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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78698 ***
+
+                       THE SPARK OF SKEETER BILL
+
+                              W. C. Tuttle
+
+         Author of “Law Rustlers,” “Wise Men and a Mule,” etc.
+
+
+“Skeeter Bill” Sarg stopped at the door of his tar-paper and lath shack
+and looked back at the street. Skeeter was cranelike in his proportions,
+his long legs were slightly bowed and his skinny hands hung well below
+his thighs. He was one of those solemn-looking individuals whose faces
+appear on the verge of either laughter or tears.
+
+Just now he seemed undetermined. He rubbed a skinny hand across his
+chin, spoke softly to himself and went into the house. It was a small
+shack. A broken mirror hung crookedly from the wall, a broken-top
+table was littered with dirty dishes. On a bunk, built into a corner
+of the room, sat a man of undeterminate age. His face was frowsy with
+gray stubble, his gray hair straggling down over his ears and turning
+up from his collar at the back of his neck.
+
+The man was of powerful frame, but whisky and the lack of ambition had
+turned him into a gross, greasy figure, bellied and jowled like a hog.
+In his hands he held a worn volume. Across the bridge of his nose rested
+a pair of steel-bowed spectacles, one of the lenses missing.
+
+Skeeter shut the door carefully and sat down on a broken chair. The fat
+man looked at Skeeter, squinting one eye shut and looking through the
+empty circle of steel.
+
+“What cheer, Skeeter?” The fat man’s voice was well modulated, although
+husky from continual libations.
+
+Skeeter shifted his cartridge-belt to bring the holstered gun across his
+lap. He rolled a cigaret slowly and thoughtfully before he replied.
+
+“I killed Jeff Billings a while ago, judge.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+Judge Tareyton closed his book softly and removed his glasses. He
+polished the lenses with a once-clean handkerchief, unmindful of the
+fact that one lens was missing. He replaced them, polished to his
+satisfaction, astride his nose.
+
+“Killed Jeff Billings, eh? A pity and still a blessing, Skeeter Bill.
+It has been brought to my notice that Billings was very instantaneous
+with a gun. My congratulations.”
+
+“It was an even break,” said Skeeter slowly.
+
+“Brought about, no doubt, by what was done last night.”
+
+“He lied,” said Skeeter simply.
+
+“Yes,” nodded the judge. “Yes, he would do that. I fear that Mr.
+Billings was a dishonest horse-thief. Mr. Leeds will be very much
+annoyed, Skeeter Bill.”
+
+Skeeter nodded and reached for his tobacco. Came a tap on the door.
+Skeeter dropped his hand to his lap and turned to face the door.
+
+“Come in,” called the judge.
+
+The door opened, disclosing a scar-faced cowboy with one empty
+eye-socket. He squinted at Skeeter for a moment and then:
+
+“Leeds wants to see yuh, Sarg. He’s in his room now.”
+
+“All right, Mears,” said Skeeter, getting slowly to his feet. “I’ll go
+with yuh.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+No one seemed to know why the town was called Sunbeam. It was located
+on the summit of Cholo Pass, on the old trail to Ophir. A year before
+there had been nothing but a log-cabin; but gold had been found in the
+gulches--gold in abundance. Like magic had sprung the town--a town of
+false-fronted saloons, gambling-houses, honkatonks.
+
+The old pack-trail became a deep rutted road, over which toiled
+freighters, gold-seekers and the riffraff which infest a place where
+money comes easy.
+
+Men sang and fought as men always sing and fight, where riches come
+without the mark of the mint. Twenty miles away was the cow-country,
+sans cowpunchers, for the chaps-clad sons of the range were rubbing
+elbows with prospectors in a frenzied search for gold.
+
+But the song of gold reached beyond, and caravans of treasure-hunters,
+like the Argonauts of old, headed for the fabled land of Sunbeam. New
+ground was opened every day and men who had never earned better than a
+dollar a day now bought chips at a hundred dollars a throw and laughed
+derisively when it was swept away.
+
+Into this country came the “Sticky-Rope” gang, a crew of cattle-rustlers
+who had lately transferred their affections to “lifting” horses and gold
+shipments. “Tug” Leeds controlled this gang, planning the coups,
+disposing of the stolen stock.
+
+Skeeter Bill Sarg joined this gang. Skeeter’s reputation had preceded
+him, and Leeds was glad to add him to the crew. Leeds had planned to
+steal the cleanup from the Solomon Mine, which turned out as planned,
+except that “Kid” Sisler and “Blondy” Jones, two of the gang, had been
+killed. Skeeter got no split of the gold, but narrowly escaped being
+killed when two shots were fired at him in the dark.
+
+A hue and cry had been raised over the robbery. The Solomon men swore
+that it amounted to twenty thousand dollars, but Jeff Billings, Leeds’
+right-hand man, swore that the sacks only contained black sand. The
+Sticky-Ropes had been hoaxed. Skeeter did not believe this; he believed
+that Leeds and Billings had double-crossed him after trying to kill
+him.
+
+Skeeter and Billy Mears crossed the street and went into the Panhandle
+Saloon, the headquarters of Tug Leeds. Men looked at Skeeter, but made
+no remarks. The whole town knew that Skeeter had killed Jeff Billings
+in a fair draw, and Billings was reputed to be as swift and deadly as
+a rattler.
+
+Mears stopped at the bar, but Skeeter went through the crowd and up to
+the door of a rear room, where he knocked once and stepped inside.
+
+The room was evidently part office, part bedroom. In the center was a
+heavy table. The walls were covered with sporting pictures, cut from
+a well-known yellow weekly. In one corner stood a rumpled bed, with
+clothing hanging to the foot-posts.
+
+Sitting at the table was a big, black-bearded man. His hard, pig-like
+eyes were barely visible through the surrounding puffiness at the
+bottom and the heavy thatched brows above. His nose flared at the
+nostrils, hinting of negro blood, and his thick lips appeared swollen
+and cracked.
+
+As Skeeter came in, Leeds got to his feet, disclosing the fact that
+his trousers were too small around the waist, and one would expect
+momentarily to hear the snap of a defeated button or the ripping of
+overwrought woolen.
+
+Leeds glanced down at the Colt pistol on the table top and then at
+Skeeter, who was watching narrowly. To Sarg, Tug Leeds was merely a
+fat animal. He wondered why men obeyed Leeds--feared him. Sarg did
+not fear Leeds. In fact, Skeeter Bill Sarg feared no man. Leeds did
+not know this, for to him, Sarg was merely a rebellious hired-man.
+Leeds removed a half-chewed cigar from his lips.
+
+“You shot Jeff Billings?”
+
+Skeeter nodded indifferently.
+
+“Why?” Leeds spat the question, as he leaned across the table, shoving
+his set jaw close to Skeeter’s face. But Skeeter merely smiled and
+replied softly--
+
+“Billings lied.”
+
+“Lied?” gasped Leeds.
+
+It was preposterous. Leeds gawped around the room, as if asking the
+inanimate sporting celebrities to make note of such a foolish reason.
+His eyes came back to Skeeter.
+
+“You killed him because he lied?”
+
+“Uh-huh,” indifferently.
+
+Leeds chewed viciously on his cigar, studying the lanky cowpuncher.
+
+“What did he lie about, Sarg?”
+
+“You ought to know,” meaningly. “You told him what to say, Leeds.”
+
+Leeds’ face flushed purple and his hand twitched toward the gun on the
+table, but stopped. Skeeter was watching that hand, a half-smile on his
+lips.
+
+“Go ahead,” grinned Skeeter. “Yo’re old enough to know what yuh want to
+do with yo’re own skin.”
+
+Leeds tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat and he coughed
+hoarsely.
+
+“I told Jeff to lie to you? Why should I want him to lie to you, Sarg?”
+
+“To save yuh money. Billings packed that Solomon clean-up to yuh,
+while me and Blondy and the Kid blocked them miners. I hefted that
+sack m’self, Leeds. Them miners never killed Blondy and the Kid, and
+it wasn’t no miner what shot at me on Little Boy Trail. Billings said
+there wasn’t nothin’ but black sand in them sacks.”
+
+Leeds licked his lips and shook his head.
+
+“Them miners must ’a’ got Blondy and the Kid, Sarg. I never hired nobody
+to shoot at you.”
+
+“You ain’t spoke about the clean-up,” reminded Skeeter.
+
+Leeds shook his head.
+
+“No, I ain’t. You’ve made up your mind that we lied to you, and you’re
+bull-headed about it. Them miners foxed us, don’t yuh know it?”
+
+Skeeter Bill smiled and shook his head. He knew that Leeds was lying. No
+doubt Leeds had all of that cleanup and intended keeping it.
+
+“Look here,” said Leeds. “Billings is gone and I need a man to take his
+place. Let’s me and you talk turkey.”
+
+Skeeter shook his head.
+
+“Nope. If I took Billings’ place I’d have to lie, and I won’t lie to
+nobody. _Sabe?_”
+
+Leeds removed his cigar and stared open-mouthed.
+
+“Well, my ----, what if you do have to lie? Is lying any worse than
+stealin’ horses or stickin’ up a stage or a bank?”
+
+“There ain’t nothin’ worse’n lyin’,” stated Skeeter seriously. “Robbin’
+banks or stages or liftin’ broncs is just a kind of a livin’, but
+lyin’--yuh can’t trust nobody what tells lies, Leeds.”
+
+“You’d be a good man for the job,” insisted Leeds.
+
+“No-o-o,” drawled Skeeter. “I won’t lie for you nor anybody else. I
+don’t need to split with you nor any other horse-thief. I work alone
+after this. I was fool enough to work for you, and I got lied to and
+robbed.”
+
+Skeeter stepped in closer and leaned across the desk.
+
+“You’re a dirty, lyin’ coyote, Leeds! You and your pack of sidewinders
+can go to ----! I work alone; _sabe?_”
+
+“Work alone, will yuh?” Leeds snarled like an animal. “No, yuh don’t,
+Sarg! Sunbeam belongs to me, and what I says goes. You get that ----
+drunken lawyer pardner of yours and vamoose. I’ll give yuh----” Leeds
+seemed to choke with wrath--“I’ll give yuh five hours to git out of
+range.”
+
+Sarg laughed. In fact he grew convulsed with mirth, while Leeds panted
+and spluttered. It was too much. Leeds flung himself on to the table,
+clawing for the gun, but Skeeter’s open palm caught him on the ear and
+shoved him off his balance so that he crashed to the floor.
+
+Came a knock at the door, and a man entered. He stopped and looked at
+the tableau, inquiringly. Leeds got slowly to his feet, his face very
+white, and faced the man. The man nodded to Skeeter, then turned to
+Leeds.
+
+“Palo just come in, Leeds. He said there’s a four-wagon outfit due to
+hit Poplar Springs tonight. Four on each wagon and a couple of extras.
+Palo says they’s only enough men to handle the teams.”
+
+Leeds nodded, seemingly unable to speak. The man sensed the enmity
+between Leeds and Skeeter, but continued--
+
+“Palo says the stock looks good.”
+
+Leeds nodded again and spoke.
+
+“Send the boys to me as fast as they come in. Billings died this
+afternoon.”
+
+“Died? How--killed?”
+
+“Lied himself to death,” drawled Skeeter.
+
+The man stared at Skeeter and then at Leeds.
+
+“I’ll tell the boys to come here,” he said nervously, and went out the
+door.
+
+“The boys liked Billings,” offered Leeds.
+
+“A hawg acts just like it cared for swill,” observed Skeeter, “but yuh
+can’t blame the hawg, can yuh? Hawgs will foller the swill-bucket to
+---- and back, but it ain’t ’cause they loves the man who is packin’
+it. You’ve got a lot of hawgs workin’ for yuh, Leeds, but yore head
+swill-packer is missin’. They ain’t got brains enough to dig deeper
+than the slop from yore table.”
+
+“Will you take Billings’ place?”
+
+“No!”
+
+“By ----, you’ll wish you had!” roared Leeds.
+
+Skeeter stopped with his back against the door, his thumb hooked over
+his belt.
+
+“Leeds, do you know anythin’ about God? Anythin’ except to use His name
+when yuh need a cuss-word?”
+
+“No!” snapped Leeds. “I suppose you do.”
+
+“Yo’re supposin’ wrong, Leeds. ’Pears to me that I’d have to know a
+feller pretty well to use his name thataway. Kinda sounds too much like
+yuh was usin’ another man’s name to revile somebody with. _Adios._”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sarg softly closed the door behind him and went back through the saloon.
+Men looked curiously at him, but he gave them no heed. He knew all of
+Leeds’ gang, knew that none of them would shoot him in the back until
+ordered to do so. It was plain that Leeds had figured it would take five
+hours to get his men together, and Skeeter knew that Leeds would never
+allow him to work alone in the Sunbeam country.
+
+Sunbeam had little attraction for Skeeter Bill, but he greatly
+disliked having any one man govern his actions. Skeeter walked between
+two buildings and headed for his own shack. Leeds had ordered him to
+take his partner with him--his drunken lawyer partner. Skeeter smiled
+grimly. If he went away it was a certainty that Judge Tareyton would
+go with him.
+
+A year or so prior to this time, in a Southwest town, Skeeter had been
+arrested for robbing a stage. Knowing that the evidence was all against
+him, he refused counsel. The court offered a legal adviser, but Skeeter
+refused. Since his arrest he had talked to no one regarding his
+innocence or guilt.
+
+In that tiny court-room Skeeter bowed his head to the inevitable as the
+prosecution flayed him alive. Then from the center of the room arose
+“Judge” Tareyton, a half-drunk, frowsy looking man. In courteous, legal
+phrases he asked the court to let him defend Skeeter Bill.
+
+Skeeter made no comment. The prosecution, confident in its might,
+acquiesced. Then, without questioning the defendant, this half-drunk
+person plunged into the case, harrying witnesses, tearing down the
+prosecution, while the audience left their chairs that they might not
+miss a point. It took an intelligent jury five minutes to bring in a
+verdict of “Not guilty.”
+
+Skeeter, dazed from the trial, met his lawyer on the street and asked
+him to have a drink. Judge Tareyton, just a little more intoxicated,
+drew up in dignity and replied--
+
+“Sir, I never drink with a road-agent.”
+
+Skeeter took the rebuke in silence, while the judge became even more
+dignified and walked on. Skeeter did not feel hurt, because Skeeter
+had been born with, and had developed, a certain degree of humor.
+
+On the following morning, in an attempted stage robbery, the bandit was
+shot and killed. He fitted the description of the robber whose crime had
+been fitted to Skeeter.
+
+Judge Tareyton found Skeeter and in flowery language expressed his
+desire to retract his former words. He fairly abased himself, while
+Skeeter, his eyes dancing, accepted the apology. The judge concluded:
+
+“Sir, I have apologized from my heart for what I have said and thought.
+It is with extreme pleasure that I accept your invitation of yesterday.”
+
+“Think I wasn’t guilty?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“By gad, sir, I know you were not!”
+
+“You’re crazy as ----,” grinned Skeeter. “I was.”
+
+For a moment the judge stared blankly at Skeeter. His left hand rubbed
+slowly at his stubbly chin. Finally his right hand extended, and Skeeter
+took it.
+
+“A gentleman,” said the judge softly. “A gentleman, by gad, sir! You
+may be guilty of everything in the criminal code, but your veracity
+brands you as a gentleman. I still accept your invitation--proudly,
+sir.”
+
+Skeeter drank water, which amazed the judge and almost insulted the
+town. The prosecutor, still stinging from Judge Tareyton’s defense,
+and being somewhat of a fire-eater, decided that the town was too
+small to hold himself and the judge. The prosecutor had a number of
+friends, whom he enlisted in his behalf.
+
+Skeeter, being cold-sober, managed to drag the judge from the center of
+a bloody brawl, loaded him on the night stage, which was by no means
+ready to depart, and sat behind the driver, forcing him to gallop his
+team out of town. Judge Tareyton, the lone passenger, bounced from side
+to side in the swaying vehicle, trying to stanch the blood from a
+knife-wound and to drink from a corked bottle at the same time.
+
+The next morning at a stage-station, the judge, very painfully and
+indignantly, asked Skeeter what in ---- he meant by interfering with
+his affairs.
+
+“Gittin’ even with yuh,” explained Skeeter. “You ain’t worth much to me,
+but I reckon your life is worth quite a bit to you. You saved mine, yuh
+know.”
+
+“A debatable point, son,” said the judge. “My life is worth nothing to
+any one except myself, and I’ve grave doubts about my own valuation of
+it. Have you ever considered life?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You are a very, very wise man, my son.”
+
+“Wise?” laughed Skeeter. “Me? If I’m wise, what are you?”
+
+“I?” The judge rubbed his chin for a moment. “I am an educated ----
+fool.”
+
+“Well,” said Skeeter seriously, “a feller has got to be wise to admit
+bein’ a ---- fool, I reckon.”
+
+“Wisdom is not what you learn,” stated the judge, “but what you
+remember. I remember that we took that stage by force of arms. Knowing
+this and forgetting it is idiocy.”
+
+“I reckon we’ll move on,” nodded Skeeter. “I’m wise enough to know that
+a sheriff is on my trail, and you ain’t goin’ to be of any use to me
+when we’re handcuffed together.”
+
+Time and the tide of events drifted them into Sunbeam. Perhaps the judge
+was a little frowsier, more prone to elastic morals and a bit heavier
+drinker, but Skeeter stuck to him.
+
+Men tried to get Skeeter to cut loose from the drunken old lawyer, who
+talked in a language which none of them understood, but Skeeter shook
+his head and kept the judge in liquor and provender. The judge was the
+first human being to do Skeeter a favor, and Skeeter explained:
+
+“He’s a educated ---- fool, the judge is. Says so himself, don’t he?
+Them kinda folks has got to have somebody lookin’ after ’em. No, sir,
+I’ve got to hang on to him, y’ betcha. He’s got to have whisky or die.
+Every time I buy hooch for him it’s like bandagin’ up a cut to keep a
+feller from bleedin’ to death. Sure, it’ll kill him after while, but I
+ain’t noways responsible for a feller bleedin’ to death internally, am
+I?”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Just now, Skeeter was wondering where the judge figured in this
+five-hour order. He stopped for a moment at the shack door before going
+inside. The judge was propped up on the bed, reading. Beside the bed, on
+a box, was a tumbler of liquor.
+
+The judge reached for the liquor and waited for Skeeter to speak, but
+Skeeter sat down and stared at the wall.
+
+“What did Leeds have to say, Skeeter Bill?” asked the judge hoarsely.
+
+Skeeter smiled.
+
+“Gave me and you five hours to git out of Sunbeam.”
+
+“Five hours,” mused the judge, peering at his glass. “Three hundred
+minutes. Long enough to depose an emperor or to go broke playing
+penny-ante. What then, son?”
+
+Skeeter studied the old judge’s face. There was no denying the fact that
+the judge had imbibed much liquor in the last few hours, but there was
+no suggestion of it in his eyes nor tongue.
+
+“I dunno, judge,” replied Skeeter slowly.
+
+“Just why does Mr. Leeds desire our departure, Skeeter Bill?”
+
+“Because I refused to stay with him and his gang. From now on I work
+alone. What I take I take alone, judge. I’m plumb tired of bein’ one
+of a gang which lies and beats me out of my share. Pretty soon I’d
+learn to lie, too.”
+
+The judge got uncertainly to his feet and weaved over to a crude
+cupboard, where he secured a demijohn. He shook the jug and smiled
+softly as he turned.
+
+“Skeeter Bill, I reckon you done right. Shakespeare said:
+
+    “Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
+    For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
+    And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
+    This above all: to thine own self be true,
+    And it must follow, as the night the day,
+    Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
+
+The judge drank deeply and staggered back to the bunk, still carrying
+the jug.
+
+“Do you know Shakespeare, Skeeter Bill?”
+
+“Don’t reckon I ever met him, judge.”
+
+The judge smiled kindly and shook his head.
+
+“No, I don’t think you ever did, Skeeter Bill. He died a long time ago,
+but he still lives. After all it is not always what we do in life, but
+what we leave, that counts. I leave nothing--I think. Perhaps some day
+some one will say:
+
+“‘Remember old Judge Tareyton? Wasn’t he an old drunken pup?’”
+
+“Quit talkin’ thataway!” snapped Skeeter.
+
+“Ah, but it is true, and the truth hurts no man. I am not expecting the
+end for quite some time, Skeeter Bill. No, not until I have examined the
+bottom of many a jug of hard liquor. I have one enemy and one friend.”
+
+“Me and the jug?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”
+
+“Rank pizen and a horse-thief, judge.”
+
+“An enemy of strength and a friend of action. Who could wish for more?”
+
+The judge blinked his eyes slowly and relaxed on the blankets. Skeeter
+watched him for a few minutes and then spread a blanket across his body.
+
+“You’re a ---- old fool, judge,” said Skeeter softly, tucking in the
+blanket. “You’re killin’ yourself by the gallon, but you’re goin’ to
+die happy.”
+
+Skeeter walked outside and went to the small barn where he kept his
+horse. A tall, rangy bay horse nuzzled him as he saddled it swiftly and
+led it outside. Far in the west a bank of thunder-heads was piling up
+and fitful gusts of wind presaged a coming storm.
+
+Skeeter studied the storm for a few moments. He looked over at the
+shack, debating whether he should go and tell the judge what he was
+going to do, but shook his head. He swung into the saddle and patted
+the bay’s neck.
+
+“Bronc, we ain’t runnin’ away,” he explained. “We’re likely goin’ to get
+wet, but if we’re goin’ to buck Leeds’ outfit we’ll start in by beatin’
+him to them horses at Poplar Springs. Leeds owes us, and we’re goin’ to
+collect.”
+
+He turned and rode past his shack, headed for the desert.
+
+The cowboy had told Leeds of this caravan, which was due to stop at
+Poplar Springs that night. Here was a chance to steal sixteen horses--a
+good haul, as horses were in demand. But the monetary consideration was
+not of as much interest to Skeeter as was the chance to get even with
+Leeds. Skeeter had little foresight in such matters. He made no plans
+as to the disposition of the animals. He knew that the caravan would be
+guarded and that he would be bucking big odds, but Skeeter only knew
+that he had a definite object in view, and that was to keep Leeds’ gang
+from stealing those horses.
+
+
+
+
+                                   II
+
+
+A few stunted poplars and cottonwoods, showing green against the
+desert gray, were all that marked the Poplar Springs. A deeply rutted
+road wended its way between Joshua Palms, commonly known as “Dancin’
+Jaspers,” yucca and sage.
+
+Far to the west stretched the Thunder Mountains, black and sinister. To
+the east loomed the Ophir range, beyond the desert hills. To the south
+there was nothing but open desert.
+
+Up this winding road came a string of four covered wagons, four horses
+hitched to each wagon, creaking through the desert sand. The wind
+billowed the canvas covers until they appeared as small balloons,
+threatening to break from their moorings.
+
+The lead team swung out of the rut and headed for the green trees.
+The rest of the wagons followed, swinging in a circle, until the lead
+team almost nosed the end-gate of the rear wagon. Teams were quickly
+unhitched and unharnessed. Ropes were strung from wagon to wagon,
+making an effectual horse corral. Fires were built and preparations
+were made for the evening meal. All of the men, with one exception,
+were strangers in the country, but most of them looked capable.
+
+Rance Williams, a tall, gaunt, desert man, was driving the lead team,
+and now was inspecting the rope and wagon corral and ordering the
+distribution of horse-feed.
+
+A small, white-haired man, timid of manner, came up to him and Rance
+Williams turned from tying a rope.
+
+“Howdy, parson. How yuh standin’ the trip?”
+
+“As well as could be expected,” replied the small man. “It is unpleasant
+at times, but a messenger of God must not complain of discomforts, Mr.
+Williams.”
+
+Williams looked down at him and smiled.
+
+“Yore packin’ a message to folks what won’t _sabe_ it, old-timer.
+Sunbeam ain’t receptive to yore kind of cheerfulness.”
+
+A girl came from between the wagons near them and stood looking off
+across the desert. She was a tired-looking girl with a tangle of brown
+hair, which she brushed nervously away as the wind flung it into her
+eyes.
+
+“Evenin’, miss,” said Williams kindly.
+
+“Good evening, Mr. Williams,” she replied, turning toward them. “You
+also, Dr. Weston. Will we ever get out of this eternal desert?”
+
+“Tomorrow, miss. Sunbeam is about twelve miles away, but it’s a long
+twelve miles. I reckon the men what measured it used a rubber tape.”
+
+The girl smiled and went on toward the fires. The two men watched her go
+away and Williams turned to the minister.
+
+“Too danged bad she’s goin’ to Sunbeam. I tried to argy her out of it,
+but she won’t listen to me.”
+
+“I shall look out for her,” replied the minister.
+
+Williams looked at the rolling storm clouds for a moment and then back
+at the frail-looking man beside him.
+
+“Lemme tell yuh somethin’, old-timer; you ain’t never been in Sunbeam.
+You’ve done all yore sky-pilotin’ in a place where a policeman would
+arrest yuh if yuh yelped after nine o’clock at night. Sunbeam’s
+raw--raw as ----. Know what I mean? If one moral thought weighed a
+ton, yuh wouldn’t find enough in this country to fill a .22 ca’tridge
+with. Yuh mean right, parson, but Gawd help yuh both if yuh get off on
+the wrong foot.”
+
+The Reverend Josiah Weston shifted his feet uneasily. He did not
+understand this rough, kindly man at all. What could be the danger in
+Sunbeam, and what did he mean by “getting off on the wrong foot?”
+
+“What is this danger, Mr. Williams?”
+
+“She’s a dead open-and-shut that Sunbeam don’t hanker fer gospel, but
+they do admire a pretty face. Bein’ hated is just about as dangerous as
+bein’ desired. I reckon I better anchor some of this outfit before the
+storm hits us. Kinda looks like she was goin’ to come a-whoopin’.”
+
+Williams turned, ducked under a rope and disappeared. Dr. Weston walked
+slowly back to the camp-fires. He was an old man--old in the service of
+the church, possessor of a snug berth, but had given it up to carry the
+gospel into the dim places. This was his first pilgrimage, and his old
+body ached from the desert days. The country and people all seemed
+unreal.
+
+He missed the respect of a silk-hatted congregation.
+
+Men called him “Old-Timer” and cursed openly before him, without shame.
+When he explained his mission to Sunbeam, they laughed and advised him
+to get a pick and shovel and let the devil alone. One man had sent a
+message by him, a verbal message. It was very confidential. He asked the
+minister to give his love to the Honkatonk girls. The minister agreed to
+carry the message, and worried for fear he would forget the family
+name--Honkatonk. No doubt they were foreigners.
+
+Dr. Weston walked slowly up to one of the fires, where a man was busily
+slicing bacon. A swirl of sand blew into the man’s face and he got to
+his feet, cursing profanely. Dr. Weston started to remonstrate with him
+over his language, but just at this moment six mounted men rode around
+the circle of wagons and pulled up near the fires.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were a rough-looking crew, with rifles across their saddle-forks.
+Their restive horses sent the dust and sand flying as they milled
+around. Some of the men came from another fire, looking inquiringly at
+the riders.
+
+A whirl of sand seemed to blot out the group for an instant, but above
+the hiss of it came Rance Williams’ voice--
+
+“Look out, men!”
+
+The man beside Dr. Weston dropped his slab of bacon and jerked his
+pistol, but one of the riders swung his rifle forward, fired, and
+the man plunged forward to the ground. From behind a wagon came the
+_whang!_ of a rifle, and the rider slid sidewise off his horse.
+
+With a yell the five riders plunged forward. One of the horses struck
+the minister, knocking him under a wagon, where he fell, unconscious.
+Bullets whined above the roar of the wind. One of the riders swung
+down and cut a connecting rope between wagons, and with a yelp of
+triumph the men rode into the enclosure, cutting loose and stampeding
+the horses.
+
+Out of the dust cloud loomed a rider, swinging a rope-end at a
+frightened horse. From the billowing top of a wagon came the snap of a
+gun, and the rider went down, clutching at the air. Two more men seemed
+to ride over him, straight for the wagon, emptying their guns into the
+swelling canvas as they whirled past. A riderless horse crashed into a
+wagon and went down.
+
+Suddenly the storm broke in its fury, blotting out the world. A tiny
+light seemed to glow for an instant, as some of the campfire blew into
+a canvas wagon-cover. Suddenly it broke into a huge flame, as the gale
+caught it, and the snapping canvas seemed fairly to explode, stripping
+the bows like a flash and whirling away like a meteor.
+
+A sheet of rain seemed to hurl itself at the desert, as if dashed
+angrily from a giant pot--a crashing downpour, a deluge. Came a blinding
+flash of lightning, a deafening crash of thunder--silence. The storm was
+over.
+
+In a dripping wagon, the top of which had been burned away, crouching
+against the front end of the box, was the brown-haired girl, terrified
+beyond words. Under that wagon crouched Dr. Weston, groping blindly for
+an answer to the questions which seethed in his brain. He knew that he
+was alive, but the world seemed a vast, dripping void.
+
+Just outside the wagon wheels lay Rance Williams, his old, seamed
+face toward the sky, a pistol clutched in his right hand. The gun was
+cocked, one chamber still loaded. He had done his best, but the odds
+were in favor of Leeds.
+
+
+
+
+                                  III
+
+
+Skeeter Bill read the storm signs and knew that the open desert would be
+no place to face it; so when the whirl of wind, sand and rain arrived,
+he was safely ensconced in a sheltered spot. The deluge of rain cascaded
+past him, swishing angrily from the protecting cliff.
+
+He had no idea that Leeds’ men had visited the Poplar Springs camp.
+Skeeter had barely left the Panhandle Saloon, when five of the men had
+ridden into town. Mears, the one-eyed outlaw, sent them to Leeds, and
+the six of them had ridden out just ahead of Skeeter.
+
+Leeds had also issued an order against Skeeter Bill and Judge Tareyton,
+but the outlaws thought more of gain than of settling Leeds’ personal
+quarrels; so they proceeded to relegate the Skeeter Bill business to
+some future date.
+
+Skeeter Bill watched the storm volley down across the desert and then
+rode away from the cliff and back to the road. The deep ruts were
+gone--wiped out by the whirling sands, and nothing was left of the
+road to mark the highway to Sunbeam.
+
+Velvet blackness followed the storm, but the clouds soon broke and a
+pale, early moon shed a ghostly light over the desert. The Dancin’
+Jaspers, the gargoyles of the desert, weird in the blue haze, danced
+their ghostly measures, beckoning with their gnarled, agonized-like
+branches, throwing out long shadows, which advanced and retreated,
+giving one the illusion that the moon also danced.
+
+But Skeeter Bill paid no attention to the illusions of nature as he rode
+steadily toward the Poplar Springs.
+
+He planned nothing in advance, trusting to circumstances and swift
+action to complete his business. Perhaps he could worm his way to the
+horses, cut them loose and stampede them into the open, where he could
+round them up and drive them miles away to a little pole corral.
+
+Perhaps the wagon-train would be well guarded and drive him away, but
+Skeeter knew that, in case he was defeated in his purpose, it would
+put the train on its guard, which would also prevent Leeds’ men from
+surprising them.
+
+Skeeter had made up his mind that in case he was discovered he would
+merely retreat. He had no desire to take the horses by force. He was
+a dead shot, but knew that one man, no matter how deadly with a gun,
+was no match for half a dozen men, who were on their guard.
+
+Then Skeeter saw the wagons. There was no flicker of camp-fires, but
+Skeeter attributed this to the storm. Perhaps, he thought, they had
+made supper before the storm came. He secured his horse to a mesquite
+and went on cautiously on foot. He found the rope link between two of
+the wagons, and cut it. He listened closely, but could hear no voices.
+
+“That’s danged queer,” he muttered aloud as he peered across the
+enclosure, trying to see the horses.
+
+He walked cautiously across to the other side and halted near a wagon,
+the cover of which was missing. Suddenly he turned his head and glanced
+down at the ground. A beam of moonlight struck across the body of Rance
+Williams, lighting up his face and glinting from the pistol in his hand.
+Skeeter Bill stared at him. He knew Rance.
+
+A sudden noise caused him to whirl around and his heart skipped a
+beat. Within a foot of his face was the face of a girl, peering at
+him from over the edge of the wagon-box. The girl’s face showed white
+in the moonlight, a white face with wide, frightened eyes, surrounded
+with a mass of wind-blown brown hair.
+
+For several moments they stared at each other. The girl’s hand came up
+and pushed back her hair, and the action seemed to bring Skeeter Bill
+from his trance.
+
+“Excuse me all to ----, ma’am,” he muttered inanely.
+
+“Wh-what happened?” she whispered.
+
+Skeeter Bill’s gaze traveled around, taking in the body of Rance
+Williams. From under the wagon came a half-suppressed groan and the
+figure of Dr. Weston crawled out into the moonlight. He got painfully
+to his feet and leaned against the wagon. Skeeter Bill watched him for
+a moment and turned to the girl.
+
+“When things git through happenin’, mebbe I can answer your question,
+miss.”
+
+The old minister slowly drew a hand across his forehead and looked at
+Skeeter.
+
+“I--I do not exactly understand,” he murmured.
+
+“Is that you, Dr. Weston?” asked the girl.
+
+“I think--I--I am almost positive that I am,” replied the old minister
+haltingly.
+
+He moved painfully up to Skeeter and stared at him.
+
+“I do not think I know you, sir.”
+
+“You ain’t got nothin’ on me, pardner,” said Skeeter. “Do yuh know just
+what happened?”
+
+“No.” Dr. Weston shook his head. “I remember that some riders came. A
+shot or two was fired, I think, but something seemed to strike me and
+I--I think that was all.”
+
+“I was in this wagon,” said the girl wearily. “I think I came to get
+something, and the men began shooting. Then the storm--it was terrible.”
+
+Skeeter Bill walked across the enclosure and looked down at the crumpled
+figure of a man. It was Mears, the one-eyed outlaw. Near him lay the
+body of a saddled horse. Skeeter turned and went back to the wagon.
+
+“How many folks in your party?” he asked.
+
+“Six of us,” said the girl. “There were four drivers, Dr. Weston and
+myself.”
+
+She climbed down from the wagon. Her clothes were drenched and the
+moonlight shone on her wet hair. Skeeter watched her go to the old man
+and take him by the arm.
+
+“Your daddy must ’a’ got bumped,” observed Skeeter. “Better fix a place
+and let him lay down.”
+
+He helped her lead the old man back to where the fires had been, where
+they let him sit down on a wagon-seat, while Skeeter rebuilt the fire.
+Just beyond the fire lay another man. Skeeter picked him up and carried
+him inside the enclosure, where he placed him beside Mears. It was Jack
+Brent, a young outlaw.
+
+The girl was sitting beside the old man, moodily staring into the fire,
+when Skeeter returned. He asked where he could find food and cooked
+supper in a short time. Dr. Weston’s appetite had suffered considerable
+shock, and the girl, still dazed from the events, did not touch the
+food. After a long period of silence she turned to Skeeter.
+
+“Do you know a man named Leeds?”
+
+Skeeter slopped a cup of hot coffee on his knees, staring at her,
+open-mouthed.
+
+“Leeds?” he asked wonderingly.
+
+“Yes. A man in Pickett told me that he had heard some one from Sunbeam
+speak of a man named Leeds.”
+
+“Leeds,” mused Skeeter aloud, recovering his composure. “Ma’am, I ain’t
+so awful well acquainted in Sunbeam.”
+
+Skeeter refilled his cup and stared into the fire, his brow wrinkled as
+if in deep thought.
+
+“Know him when yuh see him, ma’am?”
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+“I do not think so. It has been fourteen years since I saw him, and I
+was only four years of age. I have been trying for a long time to find
+him.”
+
+“What did he ever do to you?” asked Skeeter.
+
+The girl smiled.
+
+“Nothing, except to be my father.”
+
+This time the cup of coffee missed Skeeter’s knees and fell hissing into
+the fire.
+
+“For ----’s sake,” gasped Skeeter wide-eyed, and then quickly recovered
+and added, “That’s the second cup I’ve spilled. ‘Paw-Paw’ Jim says that
+coffee’s bad for nerves.”
+
+He raised the cup from the coals and wiped it on his sleeve. Dr. Weston
+rubbed his left shoulder and spoke to the girl.
+
+“I am feeling much better, my dear. I seemed dazed for a while, but that
+has left me. You were speaking of your father, were you not--I pray we
+shall find him for you. It is luck for us that the Good Samaritan came
+along, otherwise I am afraid we would suffer in our ignorance.”
+
+“Good Samaritan?” said Skeeter Bill. “Meanin’ what?”
+
+“You are a Samaritan, my friend,” said the old man.
+
+“Me?” Skeeter looked blankly at him, “I’ve been called a lot of names,
+old pardner, but that’s plumb fresh. What does she mean?”
+
+“You have never heard the story of the Good Samaritan, my son?”
+
+“Never heard of none,” admitted Skeeter.
+
+The old minister quoted the entire parable, while Skeeter sat on his
+heels beside the fire, listening. At the conclusion of the tale he said:
+
+“What do yuh reckon that there Samaritan feller was doin’ along that
+trail? Was he--uh--say, what do yuh reckon would ’a’ happened if
+that wounded _hombre_ had been all right when he met him. Yuh got to
+remember that this feller didn’t have nothin’ left for this here
+Samaritan to steal; so, mebbe--I dunno.”
+
+“I do not understand your question,” said the minister.
+
+“Tha’s all right,” grinned Skeeter. “I do.”
+
+Skeeter got to his feet and procured a pick and a shovel from one of the
+wagons.
+
+“Got to dig quite a hole, I reckon,” he stated. “I ain’t never buried
+’em in bunches before.”
+
+The girl shuddered. It was a ghastly business. The old minister
+protested. It was wrong to do this. There should be the usual
+formalities to be observed, notification of the relatives, death
+certificates. Skeeter listened to their combined views on the
+subject.
+
+“Yuh never took the buzzards into your figurin’. Mebbe that’s the way
+they handles things like this back in your country, but you’re here--not
+there, folks. Kinda wish we had a sky-pilot, though. Don’t seem right to
+be plantin’ folks without a preacher--not a lot of folks to oncet.”
+
+“I am a minister,” said Dr. Weston simply.
+
+“----” grunted Skeeter Bill, “I thought you was a medicine-man. She
+called yuh doctor, yuh know. ’Pears to me that them snake-hunters all
+died at the right place. Ain’t often that a horse-thief dies handy to
+a preacher. I’ll do the diggin’ and you do the preachin’, and we’ll
+give ’em a proper start. I’ll kinda look around and see how many I can
+collect, while you figures out what yuh can say about ’em. I dunno
+your outfit, except Williams. He’s worth sayin’ a few words about, but
+if you can say anythin’ good about Mears or Brent it’s ’cause yuh
+never knowed ’em.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Skeeter Bill toiled as he never toiled before. It was a man-sized job
+and Skeeter Bill was no horny-handed toiler, but the work must be done.
+Mary Leeds surprised him by coming to the open grave and standing with
+bowed head, while the old minister read the burial service.
+
+It was a queer funeral service. The large open grave, with its row of
+bodies; the old white-haired minister, bowed over his book, while Mary
+Leeds knelt on the sands near him. Across the grave from them stood
+Skeeter Bill, a tall, gaunt figure, leaning on a shovel-handle. A tall
+Dancin’ Jasper, shaped like a leaning cross, cast its long shadow
+across the pile of sand, while others seemed to dance a requiem to the
+souls of desert men.
+
+Mary Leeds and the old minister turned away toward the wagons, while
+Skeeter Bill filled in the grave, whistling softly through his teeth.
+Then he tossed the shovel aside and sat down to smoke and think of Tug
+Leeds’ daughter. It was almost unthinkable, that this girl could be the
+daughter of Tug Leeds, outlaw leader, murderer. Skeeter knew that Tug
+Leeds was a man without any morals. He handled only crooked gamblers to
+run his games, and his honkatonk girls were of the most vicious breeds.
+No, there were no redeeming features about the man. And this was his
+daughter.
+
+Skeeter Bill laughed to himself, wondering what Tug would think when
+his daughter appeared in Sunbeam. Should he tell her who her father
+was? Skeeter thought it over, but decided to let her find out for
+herself. The old preacher--what of him?
+
+Then Skeeter remembered that his five hours were long past. Sunbeam
+would be a dangerous spot for him now. Leeds had beat him to the horses,
+and now, if he went back to Sunbeam he would have to fight. Would he go
+back?
+
+Skeeter stopped the rolling of a cigaret and stared at the ground.
+Hadn’t Leeds said that Sunbeam belonged to him? Yes, perhaps Leeds did
+control the town. Then Skeeter Bill crumpled the cigaret paper between
+his fingers, threw up his head and laughed, laughed foolishly, but
+joyously.
+
+“Dance, you crooked Jaspers!” he chuckled at the Joshua palms. “Shake
+yourselves! I’m goin’ to make Sunbeam dance, too.”
+
+He walked swiftly back to the campfire, where Mary Leeds and the old
+minister were sitting. In the old man’s hands was a Bible, and his
+soft voice came droning--
+
+“‘And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other;
+and him that taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat also.’”
+
+He stopped as Skeeter Bill came up. Skeeter humped over by the fire and
+began rolling another cigaret.
+
+“Do yuh believe that, parson?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“I do believe it, my son. It is the right way.”
+
+“But do yuh foller them teachin’s, parson? If somebody stole your pants,
+would yuh yelp for him to come back and take your coat, too?”
+
+“I--I have never--uh--had my pants stolen.”
+
+“Wait till yuh do,” smiled Skeeter Bill. “No, yuh wouldn’t do it,
+parson, and if yuh did yuh’d be loco as a shepherd. Rustlin’ and
+robbin’ wouldn’t be no occupation a-tall, if them was the conditions,
+’cause everybody would be takin’ your pants--and I’m thinkin’ you’d
+be kinda pant-huntin’ yourself.”
+
+Mary Leeds laughed. It was ridiculous to think of the Reverend Josiah
+Weston stealing any one’s clothes, but there was crude wisdom in
+Skeeter Bill’s argument. The old minister smiled at Skeeter Bill, and
+finally they all laughed.
+
+“I have been warned that Sunbeam may be hostile to me,” said the old
+minister, “but I am going to Sunbeam and open a church.”
+
+“You’re ---- right you are,” agreed Skeeter warmly if profanely. “I’m
+backin’ your play plumb across the board. Me and you are goin’ to peddle
+gospel in Sunbeam as long as you can talk and I can shoot. Them coyotes
+are goin’ to church; _sabe?_ Sunbeam is headed for ----, and she’s up to
+us to crack in ahead of the stampede and turn ’em back, parson. There’s
+a lot of ring-tails in that cavvy, but me and you are goin’ to run ’em
+till the kinks come out.”
+
+Mary Leeds and the Rev. Josiah Weston stared at him. They were unable to
+decipher all of his meaning, but there was no doubt of his enthusiasm.
+
+“My son,” said the old minister, “I am glad to hear you promise
+assistance to the cause. Have you ever been converted to any faith?”
+
+“No,” said Skeeter Bill slowly. “No, I don’t reckon I have, parson, but
+I’m goin’ to get more fun out of this than yuh could shake a stick at.
+Whoo-ee! If yuh get a bell, will yuh let me ring it?”
+
+Skeeter Bill laughed and got to his feet.
+
+“I reckon you folks can find dry beddin’ in one of the wagons, can’t
+yuh? Go to sleep and don’t be scared, cause nobody is goin’ to bother
+yuh tonight.”
+
+Skeeter turned and walked back to where he had tied his horse, and led
+the animal back to the fire. He took off the saddle and bridle and tied
+the animal to a wagon-wheel. From one of the wagons came Mary Leeds’
+voice--
+
+“Good-night, tall man.”
+
+“Skeeter Bill,” he called back at her laughingly.
+
+“Good-night, my son,” came the call from another wagon.
+
+“Snore easy, parson,” he replied.
+
+
+
+
+                                   IV
+
+
+Tug Leeds was as sore as a wounded grizzly. He got up from his desk
+and glared at the three men who had come to report of the affair at
+Poplar Springs. One of the men had his left arm in a dirty sling and
+was white-faced from suffering.
+
+“Kid Brent was killed first,” said one of the men. “We didn’t look for
+any fight, Tug. Somebody yelped ‘Look out!’ and one of them campers went
+for a gun. I seen Mears fall off his horse, and then me and Monte smoked
+up the wagon where the shot comes from. About that time the storm hits
+us.”
+
+“---- of a fine job!” growled Tug Leeds. “Lose two of my best men, lose
+their horses and all we gets is eight half-worn-out workhorses.”
+
+“We done the best we could,” stated the wounded outlaw. “It was blowin’
+and as dark as pitch, and yuh couldn’t hear yourself yell. I reckon we
+was lucky to get as many horses as we did.”
+
+“Billings would ’a’ got the whole works,” said Tug. “Mears didn’t have
+no brains.”
+
+“What was this stuff about Skeeter Bill?” asked the wounded outlaw.
+
+“All through!” snapped Tug. “I gave him five hours to git out, and I
+reckon he went. If he shows up in Sunbeam, shoot him.”
+
+“Sounds all right,” grinned the wounded one painfully. “Shootin’ Skeeter
+Bill ain’t no cinch. He’s dangerous, Tug. When he stands sideways there
+ain’t nothin’ to shoot at.”
+
+“By ----, I won’t stand for him livin’ here!” snapped Tug venomously.
+
+“Me and you is two different kind of caterpillars,” smiled the wounded
+outlaw. “Skeeter Bill ain’t never done nothin’ to me.”
+
+“I’m runnin’ this town!” roared Tug.
+
+“Then run Skeeter Bill,” retorted the wounded man, turning to the door,
+“I’m goin’ to git my arm fixed up.”
+
+He shut the door behind him and almost ran into a man who was just
+coming in. The man growled and went inside. He went straight to Leeds.
+This newcomer was a lanky, pasty-faced type, and his breath came jerkily
+as he blurted:
+
+“Tug, I just heard somethin’ yuh might like to hear. Some of the miners
+had a meetin’ tonight and they’re goin’ to form a vigilance committee to
+stop----”
+
+“Hold on!” snapped Tug. “Git your breath, Cullop. Now, talk slow and
+don’t git excited.”
+
+“Up at the Keystone,” explained Cullop, “I heard ’em talkin’, Tug. Said
+they was goin’ to band together and lynch everybody what they suspected
+of robbin’ miners. There was about a dozen of ’em. I heard ’em mention
+Skeeter Bill.”
+
+Tug Leeds laughed raspingly.
+
+“That’s good. By ----, I’ll furnish the rope if they want to hang him.
+Cullop, you keep your ears and eyes open. Allen, you and Benson go to
+bed and keep your mouths shut. These miners will have a fine chance of
+findin’ out anything. If Skeeter Bill shows up, let me know right away.
+Cullop, yuh better go to Skeeter’s shack in the mornin’ and see if that
+---- drunken lawyer went away, too.”
+
+The three men went out. Tug Leeds sat down at his desk and lit a fresh
+cigar. As far as the miners were concerned he felt no anxiety, but he
+was afraid that the effect of the vigilance committee might discourage
+his men. He could ill afford to have anything moral happen to Sunbeam.
+
+He deliberated what he would do to “Sandy” McClain, the wounded outlaw,
+for insubordination. Sandy was temperamental, inclined to rebel, and Tug
+could not afford to have a discordant note in his organization. Either
+Billings or Mears could have disposed of Sandy, but both of them were
+gone. Tug left the dirty work to his assistants, not being a gunman
+himself. Tug could shoot, but not face to face with a man. He was an
+organizer--not an operative. He had at least a dozen men left, but not
+one of them could he trust as he trusted Billings and Mears.
+
+“---- Skeeter Bill!” grunted Tug aloud.
+
+He spat out his frayed cigar and prepared for bed. It had been a most
+unprofitable day for Tug Leeds, and Tug hated any day that did not show
+a balance on the right side of his ledger.
+
+
+
+
+                                   V
+
+
+Skeeter Bill slept little that night. One of the outlaw’s saddlehorses
+drifted into the camp and Skeeter Bill caught it. The horse had belonged
+to Mears. Somehow, Skeeter Bill was indignant at Leeds for sending his
+men on this mission. He felt that Mears and Brent had received their
+just deserts for robbing the wagon-train, and for some reason he did not
+feel this way because of anything antagonistic to Leeds.
+
+Skeeter Bill found himself alined with law and order, but quickly
+recovered. Didn’t he come down there to rob? Did the presence of this
+girl and the old preacher make him glad he was too late to beat Leeds’
+gang? No, that was not it. The girl did not interest him at all and he
+had no sympathy for the minister.
+
+He knew that Leeds and his gang would put him out of the way as speedily
+as possible when he showed up in Sunbeam. There were plenty ways of
+doing this--ways that would exonerate any one concerned. Skeeter was no
+supershot. It would be a dozen against one. He knew that the wisest
+course would be to start traveling away from Sunbeam, but Skeeter Bill
+had little wisdom in these things.
+
+No, he would go back in spite of Leeds. The idea of backing the preacher
+amused Skeeter. He knew that Leeds and several other men would balk at a
+sermon in Sunbeam.
+
+“Anyway,” decided Skeeter, “I’ve got to go back after the judge, and
+this sky-pilot gives me a excuse. I’ve got to present Leeds with his
+daughter. Skeeter Bill, it’s goin’ to be a busy day for you.”
+
+Skeeter Bill prepared breakfast. Mary Leeds was cheerful, but Skeeter
+was able to see that she had slept little. The old minister walked
+with a decided limp and his left arm was very painful, but he talked
+cheerfully.
+
+“Tell me something of this town of Sunbeam,” said the minister as he
+watched Skeeter deftly removing slices of bacon from the spattering
+grease.
+
+Skeeter looked over his shoulder at the old man.
+
+“---- was built a long time ago, but somebody got hold of a map of it
+and built Sunbeam after the same idea.”
+
+“I--I--uh--surely you exaggerate,” stammered the old minister. “Perhaps
+you are prejudiced.”
+
+Skeeter fished out more bacon before he replied.
+
+“Yuh got me fightin’ my own head, parson. Two of them words I don’t
+_sabe_ a-tall. You and the judge would make a good pair to draw to. He
+swallowed a dictionary. Put on your nose-bags, folks. That coffee
+looks like stewed gunnysacks, don’t it? If I was cookin’ for saw-mills
+I wouldn’t get a splinter. The judge does the cookin’ at our shack,
+when he’s sober enough, which ain’t three meals a day reg’lar. Parson,
+I wish you’d temperance him for a while. The ---- old fool is goin’ to
+kill himself. First time he seen a pink elephant, and the second time
+it was a green buffalo, and now I’m bettin’ he’s about due to see a
+pinto geewhinkus. Any time he sees a pinto gee-whinkus he’s due to
+hammer a harp, yuh know it?”
+
+The minister and Mary Leeds, neither of whom knew what Skeeter Bill
+meant, both nodded their heads and sat down to eat. Skeeter grinned,
+but the grin faded and he rubbed a hand across his chin. He turned to
+the minister and the girl.
+
+“Folks, I want yuh to understand that Sunbeam ain’t no civilized
+place. You’re goin’ into a camp-town, where everythin’ goes except
+the cook-stove and three joints of pipe. Far as I can see you’re both
+buckin’ a brace game, and I just been figurin’ out a combination that
+might help yuh both.
+
+“Suppose, parson, that you kinda adopts the lady. Let everybody think
+she’s your daughter. It ain’t goin’ to hurt neither one of you, is it?
+Kinda gives her protection, parson.”
+
+The old minister nodded slowly over his coffee and turned to the girl.
+
+“My dear, I think our friend is right. I am more than ready to offer my
+protection, if you will accept.”
+
+“But why should we stoop to deception?” asked Mary. “Surely there is no
+harm in my going to Sunbeam to seek my father.”
+
+“Sunbeam,” said Skeeter, “won’t care a ---- what you came there for.
+You’d be a maverick, miss. No, yuh better go in there as a preacher’s
+daughter.”
+
+“Well,” said Mary wearily, “it does not make the slightest difference to
+me. I fail to see why I should do this, except to humor you, Mr. Bill.”
+
+Skeeter Bill nodded seriously, but his face broke into a wide smile as
+he looked at her.
+
+“Name’s Sarg, ma’am. Everybody calls me Skeeter Bill for short. I dunno
+whether you made any more mistakes in your discourse or not, ’cause I
+don’t _sabe_ anythin’ except English and cuss-words, but I appears to
+decipher that you’ll be the preacher’s daughter.”
+
+Mary Leeds nodded and smiled. It was almost impossible to look at
+Skeeter’s homely face without smiling. The old man was slowly sipping at
+his coffee, looking absently off across the desert, but now he turned to
+Skeeter.
+
+“My son, what line of endeavor do you pursue?”
+
+Skeeter looked up quickly and stared at the old man.
+
+“Just grazed me, parson,” he said softly. “Hit me dead center with plain
+United States, will yuh?”
+
+“I do not understand you.”
+
+Skeeter reached out a hand to the minister.
+
+“Shake,” he grinned. “_Sabe_ sign-talk?”
+
+“Sign-talk? No, I--I----”
+
+“We’re kinda ace-deuce, I reckon, parson. Your talk goes antegodlin’
+to me and I reckon my _wau-wau_ fogs your brain complete-like. Just
+what did you ask me?”
+
+“He wants to know what you do for a living,” explained Mary Leeds,
+smiling at Skeeter’s serious expression.
+
+“Me?” Skeeter debated for a moment. “I’m a horse-thief.”
+
+“A horse-thief?” echoed Mary, while both of them stared blankly at
+Skeeter.
+
+“When there’s horses,” nodded Skeeter. “Feller can’t be too particular,
+yuh know. Might get into a goat country and starve to death.”
+
+“I can not believe that statement,” declared Mary.
+
+“Yuh can’t?” Skeeter’s smile faded. “That’s the worst of it,” he wailed.
+“If I lied you’d believe me, but when I tell the truth I’m called a
+liar.”
+
+“Surely you are not sincere,” said the minister. “No man will willingly
+admit a thing that would incriminate himself. It is ridiculous for you
+to assert to us that you follow such a sordid profession.”
+
+Skeeter got slowly to his feet and brushed some crumbs off his wrinkled
+shirt.
+
+“I reckon you two can ride my bronc to Sunbeam. He’s broke to pack
+double, but I dunno a ---- thing about this hammer-headed ring-tail
+what belonged to Mears; so I’ll fork him myself.”
+
+“I do not attempt to follow your discourse,” stated the minister, “but
+I wish you would eliminate the profanity, especially in the presence of
+the lady.”
+
+“My ----!” gasped Skeeter Bill, and turned to Mary. “Ma’am, I spent six
+weeks in a Cree Indian lodge. Had a busted leg, and the sheriff was
+ridin’ sign on me. It was natcheral that I hankered for information, but
+the old war-whoop didn’t _sabe_ English and I didn’t _sabe_ Cree; so we
+argued to beat ---- for six weeks and parted friends, ’cause neither one
+of us knowed what the other one meant. I’m kinda between, I reckon. A
+wise man uses words which I don’t _sabe_, and a ---- fool talks stuff
+that there ain’t no sense to.”
+
+“Please do not swear so much,” begged the minister.
+
+“Swear--so--much?” Skeeter Bill was amazed. “Why, parson, I ain’t swore
+once.”
+
+“I do not wish to appear critical,” stated the minister, “but your
+adjectives are a--uh--trifle--uh----”
+
+Skeeter Bill scratched his chin and studied the old minister, who was
+trying to grasp the proper word to convey the exact meaning. Mary Leeds
+turned away to hide a smile. Skeeter broke the silence.
+
+“We’ll let her go as she lays, parson. There’s peace between us now,
+but I’ll send you a red belt as sure as ----, if yuh don’t quit talkin’
+thataway. Let’s hit the trail. I want to get home before the judge gets
+so drunk I can’t rope him to a saddle.”
+
+
+
+
+                                   VI
+
+
+Judge Tareyton awoke from his debauch. To him there was no “morning
+after” because of the fact that his drunks corresponded to the average
+man’s daily doings. The jug was empty, which also corresponded to the
+empty cupboard to the average man. The judge did not hunger, but he
+thirsted a-plenty.
+
+As he placed the jug back on the chair, some one rapped loudly on the
+door. To have said, “Come in” would have been a very great effort for
+the judge’s dry throat; so he got shakily out of bed and answered the
+knock in person. It was a miner, bearded to the eyes and with the
+muck of the creek upon him. The judge shoved his frowsy face through
+the door and waited for the other to speak.
+
+“Feller named Sarg live here?”
+
+The judge took this under advisement, but finally admitted it with a
+curt nod.
+
+“Here now?” asked the miner.
+
+The judge considered this question, but gave a negative shake of his
+head. The man turned as if to leave, when the judge decided to take a
+chance on his vocal cords.
+
+“What did you require of him?”
+
+The man stopped and looked at the judge, as though undecided whether to
+disclose his mission or not. He stepped in closer and in a confidential
+tone inquired:
+
+“Do yuh know if he heard about the vigilance committee or not?”
+
+Judge Tareyton’s face twitched, but he cleared his aching throat and
+shook his head.
+
+“We’re goin’ to make these thieves around here danged hard to catch.”
+
+The judge swallowed with great difficulty, and watched the man walk
+away. He shut the door, stumbled back to his bunk and sank down.
+
+“Vigilance committee!” he gasped aloud, and then added, “Lookin’ for
+Skeeter Bill.”
+
+He picked up the empty jug, hoping against hope that it contained
+something beside an odor, but cast it aside, after holding it unsteadily
+over a tin cup. He looked at his watch. It was eleven o’clock. Where was
+Skeeter Bill? Maybe the vigilantes had already found him. The judge
+groaned aloud at his inability to do anything, when prompt action was
+needed.
+
+He lifted his wadded pillow and disclosed two big Colt pistols. At least
+he could help a little, he thought. His hand trembled with the weight of
+one of them, the barrel describing irregular circles. He laid the gun on
+the bed and shook his head.
+
+“I’m a menace to myself,” he said aloud. “Not even able to hold a gun.
+As God is my judge, if I ever get over this--I’ll very likely do it all
+over again. I’ll----”
+
+He stopped talking aloud to himself and stared at the floor. Again he
+looked at his watch.
+
+“Five hours!” he grunted hoarsely. “Five hours they gave us to get out.
+Where is Skeeter Bill? Have they killed him?”
+
+The judge almost squeaked that last question, but the bare walls of the
+shack did not even echo a reply. He got to his feet, found the remains
+of an old derby hat, an old Prince Albert coat, faded and torn. Fully
+attired he looked at himself in a broken mirror. For a moment he stared
+at the reflection, and with a sweep of his hand sent the glass crashing
+to the floor. His hand went to his eyes and he stumbled toward the door,
+where he stopped and looked back.
+
+“Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us, to see oursel’s as ithers see
+us,” he quoted bitterly. “Seven years of bad luck for breaking a
+mirror. Judge Tareyton, you’re a disreputable old reprobate! By gad,
+sir, you are not fit to wear a steel bill and pick food in a barnyard
+with the chickens. I repeat, sir; you disgrace me. I wish----”
+
+Came the sound of footsteps on the hard ground outside. For a moment
+the judge hesitated. There was not the slightest doubt but what this
+was either the vigilantes or some of Leeds’ men, he thought. He settled
+his battered derby at a more secure angle, squared his stubbled jaw and
+opened the door. There stood Skeeter Bill, a girl and an old man.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Judge Tareyton rubbed a hand across his eyes and stared at them. The
+girl was smiling at him, and the judge wondered if it was for him or
+at him. Skeeter turned to the minister and the girl.
+
+“Folks, I wants to make yuh used to Judge Tareyton.” Then he turned to
+the judge. “This here is a preacher named Weston, and the lady is his
+daughter.”
+
+The judge removed his battered hat and bowed low. It was an almost
+disastrous bow, for the judge was not at all steady in the knees, and
+his recovery was just a bit wabbly.
+
+“Sir and ma’am, I am honored. Welcome to our humble village. There is
+not much for a visitor to see, that is true, but you must remember that
+the place is still in its swaddling clothes. Did I understand that you
+are a minister of the gospel?”
+
+“Correctly,” nodded the minister. “I am here to bring a message to the
+dim places. Perhaps it is just a trifle strange for a man of my age to
+take up missionary work, but I felt called to do this and--I am here.”
+
+“No doubt of that,” nodded the judge absently. “Not a scintilla of
+doubt.”
+
+The judge shifted his bleared eyes and swept the visible part of the
+town.
+
+“Sir, I have often groped for a word which would describe Sunbeam, but
+until now it has evaded me. Dim. Yes, that is the word. By gad, sir,
+this most surely is one of the dim places, and I hope your light never
+flickers.”
+
+“God willing, it never will, sir.”
+
+“I’m backin’ his play, judge,” stated Skeeter Bill.
+
+Judge Tareyton stared at Skeeter, as if not believing his own ears. He
+stared at Skeeter until Skeeter shifted uneasily under that steady gaze.
+
+“Perhaps we had better go to the hotel,” said Mary Leeds.
+
+“There ain’t none,” replied Skeeter slowly. “I just been thinkin’ that
+mebbe Mrs. Porter would take yuh both in. Don’t yuh reckon that’s the
+best idea, judge?”
+
+The judge nodded slowly and cleared his throat.
+
+“A very, very good idea, Skeeter Bill. I have no doubt but what the good
+soul would welcome them.”
+
+Skeeter Bill turned as if to go on, but the judge stopped him.
+
+“Skeeter Bill, have you four-bits? The oil has all burned out of the old
+lamp.”
+
+Skeeter grinned and handed him a silver dollar.
+
+“Come on, folks, we’ll visit Mrs. Porter. _Adios_, judge.”
+
+The judge nearly fell trying to execute his bow and move swiftly toward
+the street at the same time. His whole being shrieked for liquor and he
+forgot Leeds’ warning or the danger of a vigilance committee. His right
+hand gripped that silver dollar until it fairly cut into the palm of his
+hand.
+
+“Dim places,” he muttered as he stumbled into the street. “By gad, the
+old lamp is badly in need of oil.”
+
+Blindly he entered the Panhandle and leaned on the bar. The dollar
+clattered on the painted wood, the clink of bottle-neck on thin
+glass--the old lamp flickered up again.
+
+Mrs. Porter had been made a widow by virtue of a stick of dynamite,
+which did not live up to its scientific principles of only exploding
+when detonated. She had found herself alone in Sunbeam, in dire
+necessity of making a living; so she turned to the business of
+laundress.
+
+History of the old West does not record that outlaws ever stooped to
+dealing with such plebeian things as a bundle of laundry, but it is a
+fact that many of them had human desires for clean clothes. Skeeter Bill
+and the judge had little knowledge of laundry--hence the acquaintance of
+Mrs. Porter and her flat-irons.
+
+Mrs. Porter was busily engaged in her chosen profession when Skeeter
+Bill arrived with his charges.
+
+“Would you believe it?” exclaimed Mrs. Porter, after the introductions.
+“A preacher and his girl! Well, now ain’t it too bad you didn’t show up
+a month ago? Jim Porter didn’t have no preacher to speak over him. Jim
+was pretty good--good as husbands go--and it was hard to plant him
+without any respectable prayers.”
+
+“Can yuh put ’em up for a while, ma’am?” asked Skeeter Bill.
+
+“I can, Mr. Sarg. I have a cot for the lady; and the preacher--” Mrs.
+Porter sized up the old minister, much to his embarrassment-- “I think
+he ain’t too long for the lounge. Jim hung over at both ends, when he
+layed down on it, but you’re kinda runty. Sure, I can put you up. When
+do you start preachin’?”
+
+“Is there a church?”
+
+“A church?” Mrs. Porter wiped a soapy hand on her apron and looked
+appealingly at Skeeter. “Church in Sunbeam? Now would you listen to
+the innocent man, Mr. Sarg?”
+
+“I reckon they don’t understand Sunbeam, ma’am,” said Skeeter, and
+added, “But I reckon they’ll learn.”
+
+“I dunno.” Mrs. Porter shook her head sadly. “I dunno. Jim Porter
+’lowed he knowed dynamite from A to Izzard. ’Course, nobody knows what
+Jim done, but it’s almost a cinch he got flip with a stick of it. Say,
+Jeff Billings had some laundry here, which is a total loss to me, as
+you might say.”
+
+Skeeter Bill rubbed his chin for a moment, but reached in his pocket and
+took out some money.
+
+“Dollar cover it, ma’am?”
+
+“Plenty,” nodded Mrs. Porter, accepting the silver. “Might as well take
+the stuff and wear it.”
+
+Skeeter opened his mouth several times, as if unable to frame a reply,
+but finally shook his head violently. Skeeter Bill was hard-boiled, but
+he could hardly think of wearing the clothes of the man he had killed.
+
+“Go right in the house,” urged Mrs. Porter, and Mary Leeds and the
+minister started in.
+
+“Ain’t you comin’ in, Mr. Sarg?” asked Mrs. Porter.
+
+“Nope,” Skeeter shook his head. “I--I’ve gotta job to do. See yuh later,
+folks.”
+
+“Thank you so much,” said Mary Leeds, holding out her hand.
+
+Skeeter reached for the hand, but missed and grasped her elbow, much to
+his confusion, but he shook her arm solemnly and hurried away without
+looking back.
+
+“Gee cripes!” he muttered to himself. “Clumsy danged hippy-pot-a-must!
+Can’t even shake hands. That drunken old pardner of mine makes me
+ashamed that I never learned how to bow. Now, I reckon I’ve got to turn
+reg’lar killer to make good with the sky-pilot.”
+
+He swung into the street and headed for the Panhandle.
+
+
+
+
+                                  VII
+
+
+The silver dollar worked wonders with Judge Tareyton. After the second
+drink he began to realize the seriousness of his position. Leeds’
+warning, as told by Skeeter, came back to him. Nervously he ran the
+back of his hand across his lips and turned his head slowly, feeling
+that some one was watching him.
+
+Behind him, leaning against the edge of a table, stood Tug Leeds. They
+faced each other. The liquor had made the judge strangely cool, and his
+form straightened in dignity as he gazed upon the man who had ordered
+him out of the town. Then Tug Leeds spoke.
+
+“Still in town, eh?”
+
+“I beg your pa’don,” drawled the judge slowly, brushing an imaginary
+speck from the lapel of his frayed coat. “You spoke to me, sir?”
+
+Tug Leeds walked slowly up to the judge, his heavy under-jaw shoved out,
+as if trying to intimidate the other with his physical appearance. He
+halted with his face within a foot of the judge’s face and stared into
+his eyes.
+
+“You know ---- well I spoke to you!” snarled Tug. “I told Sarg I’d give
+yuh both five hours to git out of this country. I reckon he had brains
+enough to take my warnin’.”
+
+“You gave us five hours?” queried the judge. “By gad, that was generous
+of you, sir--mighty generous. Not to be outdone in generosity, Skeeter
+Bill gave us five hours, and the least I could do would be to
+reciprocate, which gave us a grand total of fifteen hours. I am sure
+that Skeeter Bill will join me in thanking you kindly, sir.”
+
+For a moment Tug Leeds studied this reply. Tug was slow of
+understanding, but it suddenly dawned upon him that the judge was
+making a fool of him and belittling his warning.
+
+Like a flash, Tug drew back his right hand and drove his fist into the
+judge’s face. The blow sent the judge staggering back, blinded by the
+impact. Leeds sprang into him, striking with both hands. The judge went
+to his knees, with both hands covering his face.
+
+Came the scrape of a boot across the threshold and a lithe, lanky figure
+flashed past the crouched figure of the old judge and faced Tug Leeds.
+Skeeter Bill’s face was white with wrath. His eyes were mere, indistinct
+slits under his eyebrows, and the big humorous mouth was as narrow and
+harsh as a pencil-mark.
+
+Tug Leeds’ hand dropped to his gun and he tried to move back, but
+Skeeter struck--struck as the panther strikes, and the blow, curving
+downward, struck Leeds on the chin. The force of the blow seemed to
+unhook Leeds’ under-jaw and paralyze his nerves.
+
+Swiftly Skeeter moved ahead half a step. A long, left arm uncoiled,
+with the weight of that long, muscular body behind it and the fist
+caught Leeds under that sagging chin. Came the snap of teeth, a short
+animal-like grunt, and Tug Leeds slumped in a heap--knocked cold.
+
+Quickly Skeeter Bill caught his balance and faced the room, a heavy
+Colt pistol tense at his hip. But the awed crowd made no move. Several
+of Leeds’ men were in the audience, but they remained unmoved. The
+judge got slowly to his feet, blood trickling from his battered face,
+and looked around. Tug Leeds did not move. The judge looked from Tug to
+Skeeter, and then stepped over beside Tug, where he appeared to examine
+the fallen man.
+
+“Skeeter Bill,” he said painfully, “I’m sorry you hit him so hard.”
+
+“You feelin’ sorry for him?” Skeeter’s voice was barely audible.
+
+The judge nodded.
+
+“Skeeter, I am sorry for any man who was born without any conception of
+humor. This man would be a good citizen if he knew when to laugh.”
+
+Skeeter did not reply. It is doubtful whether he knew what the judge
+meant. He had not taken his eyes off the men in front of him. Now he
+spoke.
+
+“I just want to say to yuh all; I’m goin’ to stay in
+Sunbeam--as--long--as--I--live. Any of yuh can pack that talk to Tug
+Leeds when he wakes up. Yuh can tell him that I’m goin’ to kill the
+next man what touches my pardner. That goes for Sunbeam; _sabe?_”
+
+Without turning his head he spoke to the judge--
+
+“Go out ahead of me, pardner.”
+
+The judge turned and went out of the door, and Skeeter Bill backed
+slowly out of the place until he hit the rickety board sidewalk, where
+he stepped swiftly aside out of range of the windows and hurried after
+the judge.
+
+They walked back to their shack and went inside before either spoke a
+word. Skeeter got a towel and sponged the blood from the judge’s face,
+working as tenderly as a woman.
+
+“Ought to ’a’ let him start to pull,” muttered Skeeter. “Reckon I forgot
+I had a gun.”
+
+Skeeter finished his rough surgery, and the judge walked over across the
+room to where the mirror had hung, but remembered smashing it.
+
+“I am beginning to be superstitious, Skeeter Bill,” he said, turning
+to Skeeter. “I smashed our mirror today, and the old belief concerning
+broken mirrors seems to have started its baleful predictions.”
+
+“Tug Leeds must ’a’ smashed one, too,” grinned Skeeter, examining his
+sore knuckles. Then, seriously, “What did he say to you, judge?”
+
+“Chided me for not obeying his order. He was under the impression that
+you had left the country. By the way, Skeeter Bill, the miners are
+forming a vigilance committee to run out outlawry from Sunbeam.”
+
+“What?” Skeeter Bill got to his feet staring at the judge. “Vigilance
+committee? How do yuh know?”
+
+“One of them came looking for you.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Skeeter Bill’s eyes were serious and the lines deepened around his
+mouth. It was one thing to fight outlaws and another to fight against
+law and order. It was true that no one knew him as one of the outlaws,
+none that he knew about, but why should one of the committee come to
+find him? The judge’s voice brought him out of his reveries.
+
+“What about this minister and the girl, Skeeter Bill? What did you mean
+by saying that you were going to back them?”
+
+“What I said, I reckon,” replied Skeeter, staring at the floor.
+
+“Getting religious, Skeeter Bill?” softly.
+
+Skeeter looked at the judge and a smile wreathed his lips.
+
+“No-o-o, I reckon not, judge. Yuh see I kinda figured that a sky-pilot
+would rasp Tug Leeds plumb ragged. Tug orates that he owns the town, and
+I knowed he’d just about rise and shine at the idea of holdin’ church in
+Sunbeam.”
+
+“Just where did you discover these folks?”
+
+Skeeter told him of the fight at the Poplar Springs, and the wiping
+out of the whole outfit, with the exceptions of the minister and the
+girl. Judge Tareyton listened closely to the description of the
+burial, shaking his head sadly.
+
+“I knew Williams,” he said softly. “Tug Leeds’ soul, if he has a soul,
+should shrivel and die with last night’s work. Williams was a good man.
+By gad, Skeeter Bill, this outlawry should be wiped out! Leeds and his
+crew should be dangling from ropes at this minute. I’m----”
+
+“Hol’ on,” said Skeeter hoarsely, “Hol’ on, judge. I’m no better than
+they are. I ain’t never killed no helpless folks--ain’t never killed no
+man who ain’t had a even break, but I reckon mebbe they’d better string
+me up with the rest of ’em.”
+
+Judge Tareyton stared at Skeeter Bill’s outburst. It was not often that
+Skeeter Bill showed any emotion by voice or action, but now his homely
+face was very serious, and his long arms dangled loosely at his sides as
+he stared into space.
+
+For an appreciable space of time not a word was spoken; then the judge
+crossed the room and put his hand on Skeeter Bill’s shoulder.
+
+Skeeter looked up quickly.
+
+“Don’t say it, pardner. You’d argue that I wasn’t as bad as that bunch
+and didn’t deserve what they do, but you’re wrong. If they deserve a
+rope--so do I.”
+
+“Skeeter Bill,” said the judge softly, “you jump at conclusions. I was
+just going to agree with you.”
+
+Skeeter looked up at the serious expression on Judge Tareyton’s face and
+broke into a laugh. Skeeter Bill did not confine his merriment to facial
+contortions and vocal expression--he laughed from his heels to his head.
+
+“They may hang you,” said the judge when Skeeter had regained normal
+conditions, “but I am fairly sure that you will be the only one at the
+occasion to see any humor in the situation.”
+
+“I hope it’s a funny hangin’,” said Skeeter, serious again. “’Pears to
+me that it’s a even bet whether I get hung or killed with a bullet.
+Kinda between the devil and the deep blue sea, as my dad used to say. I
+ain’t got much choice, I reckon, unless it is to get out of town, and I
+hates to be herded.”
+
+“Perhaps we had better go,” suggested the judge. “There are many,
+many places where we could go, Skeeter Bill. Suppose we pack up our
+belongings and----”
+
+“Hol’ on!” Skeeter shook his head. “What about the old minister and the
+girl? I reckon I’ve got to see that they gets a square deal. I tol’ the
+old sky-pilot that I was with him from the dally to the hondo, and I
+can’t renege, judge.”
+
+“But what can you do?” argued the judge. “One man against a dozen or
+more. No, I think we had better go.”
+
+Skeeter Bill shook his head.
+
+“Nope.”
+
+Judge Tareyton studied Skeeter for a while, a half-smile on his face.
+
+“Has this--uh--young lady anything to do with your ---- stubbornness,
+Skeeter Bill?”
+
+Skeeter looked up quickly.
+
+“I don’t reckon so, judge. No-o-o, I wasn’t thinkin’ about her.”
+
+“Nice looking girl,” observed the judge wisely. “Very fine face. Well
+worth knowing, I might say. Her father did wrong in bringing her here.”
+
+“He didn’t.” Skeeter shook his head. “Not the way you mean, judge. She
+came lookin’ for him.”
+
+“Looking for him? What do you mean?”
+
+Skeeter smiled.
+
+“That preacher ain’t her father. I just fixed it up thataway so she’d
+have protection. She comes here kinda huntin’ her father, like I said
+before, but I--her father is--Tug Leeds.”
+
+“Tug Leeds?” The judge’s voice was scarcely above a whisper.
+
+“Her name is Mary Leeds,” explained Skeeter. “She’s likely forgot what
+he looks like, bein’ as she ain’t seen him for fourteen years. She heard
+somebody say that a man named Leeds lived in Sunbeam. I dunno how to
+tell her, ’cause Tug ain’t fit to be her dad.”
+
+Judge Tareyton’s mouth twitched and his hand trembled as he wiped it
+across his dry lips. For a few moments he seemed incapable of speech.
+
+“I dunno how we can keep her from findin’ it out,” said Skeeter
+helplessly. “She don’t know how low her dad is, judge.”
+
+“No,” said the judge hoarsely. “No, she don’t, Skeeter Bill, and we’ve
+got to keep her from ever findin’ it out, if we can.”
+
+“Which don’t stop him from bein’ her dad,” said Skeeter. “She’s got
+to find it out pretty soon. Tug Leeds is too prominent, and somebody
+is bound to mention him where she can hear it. Nobody outside of me
+and you and his gang knows what he really is, but everybody knows he
+kinda bosses the town, and they all knows the kind of--shucks!”
+
+“You had a fair start, Skeeter Bill, but you got all tangled up with
+words. I know what you mean anyway. Just what is to be done? We must
+try and keep the girl from meeting him, because she is too fine, I
+think, to have her future marred by knowing that she is the daughter
+of Tug Leeds.”
+
+Skeeter stared at the judge for a moment and got to his feet. He was
+very deliberate as he dug under the pillow on the bunk and took out
+one of the heavy pistols, which he shoved inside the waist-band of
+his overalls.
+
+“What is the idea, Skeeter Bill?” asked the judge.
+
+Skeeter half-smiled.
+
+“I’m goin’ to kill Tug Leeds, judge. Mebbe we can get somebody to tell
+her that Bill Jones got in the road of my bullet. Anyway, we can get him
+buried before she has a chance to find out who he was, and, anyway, she
+ain’t seen him for years.”
+
+The judge nodded slowly, as if in agreement with Skeeter’s scheme, but
+when Skeeter finished the judge said:
+
+“Rough in construction, Skeeter Bill. The intent is very good, I
+might say, but your scheme reminds me of the Frenchman’s flea-powder
+directions, ‘First you must catch de leetle flea.’ When you open that
+door again, you are an animated target for Leeds’ men. Does----”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Both men glanced at the door and at each other. Some one was knocking
+softly on the outside. Skeeter Bill backed against the wall, loosened
+both guns and nodded to the judge, who had walked close to the door.
+He opened the door, shielding himself with it as he swung it open.
+
+Three men, one of them the miner who had inquired for Skeeter that
+morning, were standing at the door. He nodded to the judge and said--
+
+“Sarg in yet?”
+
+“Sure is,” said Skeeter Bill, moving toward the door.
+
+He had a smile on his face, a careless swing to his slow movements, but
+both hands were kept near his guns, as he came up beside the judge.
+
+“Like to talk to yuh, Sarg,” said the miner. “Can we come inside?”
+
+“Sure--come on in,” nodded Sarg, and the three men filed past him.
+
+Two of them sat down, but the spokesman stood near the table. He was a
+middle-aged man, his beard and hair slightly gray. The other two were
+younger, but their clothes and general appearance proclaimed them to be
+placer miners.
+
+“My name’s John McClung,” stated the spokesman, “McClung of the
+Solomon.” He pointed to the other two. “This is Jerry Byler, of the
+Ophir, and Dick Franklyn, of the Keystone.”
+
+“Glad t’ meetcha,” nodded Skeeter. “Gents, this is Judge Tareyton, my
+pardner. Whatcha got on your mind?”
+
+McClung hesitated, as if a trifle afraid to start the conversation. He
+cleared his throat softly.
+
+“Sarg, you killed Jeff Billings yesterday.”
+
+Skeeter’s eyes flashed from face to face, but there was nothing to show
+that these men were more than mildly interested in the fact that he had
+killed Billings.
+
+“Uh-huh,” nodded Skeeter. “An’ then what?”
+
+“Billings was a gun-fighter,” stated McClung. “He had a bad rep. We
+found out today that Billings was the leader of the gang that robbed
+my place and took two hundred ounces of gold.”
+
+“Two men was killed,” said Byler. “Two men that we didn’t know. They has
+been buried.”
+
+“Two hundred ounces of gold ain’t goin’ to break me,” continued McClung,
+“but it shows that we’ve got to protect ourselves. Billings wasn’t alone
+in this here robbery. We just heard that Rance Williams was killed at
+Poplar Springs last night and his whole outfit wiped out--all except a
+preacher and his girl. This preacher told Jerry.”
+
+“Jerry was over to see Mrs. Porter,” said Franklyn meaningly. “He has
+dirty shirts every day in the week and two on Sunday.”
+
+“I found ’em,” nodded Skeeter.
+
+“They said yuh did,” agreed Byler. “That’s one of the reasons we come
+to see yuh. McClung was lookin’ for yuh this mornin’. After we found
+out that yuh brought the preacher and the girl in, we came again.”
+
+“Just why did yuh want to see me?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“’Cause you’ve got nerve,” stated McClung quickly. “Sunbeam needs a man
+with nerve right now.” He looked at the judge and back at Skeeter. “Your
+pardner is a lawyer, and we kinda reckoned that a lawyer won’t hurt us
+none, bein’ as we wants this kinda done right. We’re formin’ a vigilance
+committee and we need a leader. You are the man we need.”
+
+Skeeter turned his head slightly and looked at the judge, who was
+staring at the floor, a half-smile on his flabby face.
+
+“Tug Leeds said you was the right man to get,” said Byler.
+
+Skeeter’s mouth sagged for a moment at this statement, but he turned
+slowly to Byler, a quizzical smile on his lips.
+
+“Tug Leeds said that?”
+
+“Today,” nodded McClung. “Kinda funny, at that. We talked about you
+last night. Tug has bought half-interest in the Keystone--bought it
+this mornin’, and he comes to Dick and opines that the best thing to
+do is to get up a vigilance committee to stamp out the outlaws. He
+said that you was the one man in Sunbeam to be the leader.”
+
+“Anybody speak about me before he did?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“I did,” replied Franklyn. “Tug offered me a big price for half of my
+claim, and after the deal was all closed, he suggested this committee.
+I told him we had talked it over, and kinda figured on gettin’ you for
+a leader. He said he thought it was a good scheme, but he said he’d
+take charge if we couldn’t get hold of you.”
+
+“It’s goin’ to take a little time,” said McClung. “We don’t know just
+what we’re goin’ to do first, and we don’t want to make no bad moves.
+All we wants is for you to take charge of it, if yuh can. Yore pardner
+can give us the benefit of what he knows about law. We don’t want to
+go ----in’ into somethin’ and do it all wrong.”
+
+“No,” agreed the judge absently, “you do not want to do things wrong.
+It is a weighty problem, gentlemen, and I would like to talk things
+over with Mr. Sarg before he decides what he will do.”
+
+“Sure, take your time,” agreed McClung. “This ain’t nothin’ yuh can
+rush, but we’ve got to kinda get organized as soon as possible. When
+can yuh let us know?”
+
+“Tomorrow,” replied the judge. “Tomorrow morning, I reckon.”
+
+“Seen Leeds lately?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“Not since early this mornin’,” replied Franklyn. “He came to my cabin
+and bought in with me. Said he thought you had left Sunbeam for good.”
+
+“Might be a good thing for you to have a talk with Leeds,” suggested
+McClung. “Seems like he’s got some good ideas on handlin’ this here
+proposition.”
+
+Skeeter nodded slowly.
+
+“Mebbe I better do that, McClung. I’ll try and see yuh tomorrow.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The three miners shook hands with Skeeter and the judge and went out.
+Skeeter watched them walk back toward the north end of town and then
+turned back to the judge, who was sitting on the edge of the bunk,
+holding his head in his hands.
+
+“Skeeter Bill,” he said hoarsely, “I want to laugh. I want to shake my
+sides with merriment, but I am--too-- ---- dry. I’d sell my soul to a
+scavenger for one drink of bad whisky.”
+
+Skeeter studied him for a few moments. There was no question but what
+Judge Tareyton was suffering. Skeeter walked to a corner of the room,
+lifted a half-nailed board and groped under the rough flooring. His
+hand came up holding a quart flask of liquor, and he looked at it in
+disgust. He looked back at the humped figure on the bunk, and the
+lines of his face softened.
+
+“Judge,” he said, as he walked slowly over to the bunk, “I had this
+cached away for a rainy day. I reckon we’ll prognosticate a stormy
+night.”
+
+Judge Tareyton lifted his head and stared at the bottle. His tongue-tip
+ran slowly across his dry upper lip and his bushy eyebrows lifted
+perceptibly, as he reached for the bottle.
+
+“Skeeter Bill, you have saved my life,” he whispered. “The devil laughs
+at a time like this.”
+
+He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank greedily. The liquor flashed
+through his being and he shrugged his heavy shoulders, as if shuddering
+from pain.
+
+“Well!” He looked up at Skeeter seriously. “Well, I hope he gets a good
+laugh out of it, because I believe in giving the devil his due.”
+
+“What do you think of Leeds?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“Clever scoundrel,” pronounced the judge; “anticipated the vigilantes by
+joining at once. Became a mine-owner for self-protection.”
+
+“Told ’em I’d make a good leader,” mused Skeeter.
+
+“Protecting himself in case you are assassinated,” declared the judge.
+“Make you the leader, because you can’t very well denounce him without
+incriminating yourself. You will soon be killed and he will be the
+leader. Tug Leeds is fairly clever, Skeeter Bill, and he will use the
+vigilante organization to further his own ends.”
+
+“No, I can’t tell on him,” agreed Skeeter. “I kinda like these
+miners, judge. They’re right, don’t yuh know they are? I ain’t no
+danged milk-fed calf, judge, but I kinda wish me and you was right.
+Aw, I ain’t afraid of Tug Leeds, nor afraid of them honest miners,
+but----”
+
+Judge Tareyton sat staring at the half-empty bottle, scratching at the
+dirty label with a rough thumb nail. He looked up at Skeeter.
+
+“I know how yuh feel, Skeeter Bill. God put a spark of something into
+all of us--a spark that flares up once in a while. I had one--once, but
+I guess I drowned it with hooch.”
+
+“Aw-w, you’re all right,” said Skeeter quickly; “I was thinkin’ about
+me. I’ve stole cows, horses, money and I’ve killed men. I’ve been a
+----winder of a cute little person, ain’t I?
+
+“Now, some honest men comes along and asks me to help ’em put a rope
+around the necks of my own kind. Me and you and Tug Leeds are the only
+ones in Sunbeam what knows who I am. Tug knowed about me from somebody
+down Mohave way, I reckon, and that’s why he asks me to work with him.
+Billings and ‘Blondy’ Jones and ‘Kid’ Sisler knowed I was in that
+Solomon deal, but they’re all gone now. Tug is the only one of the gang
+what could yelp out loud about me. The rest could only say what they’ve
+heard.”
+
+“You promised to help that preacher,” reminded the judge.
+
+“Sure did, judge. That goes as she lays, and I reckon the only way I can
+help out his cause is to kill Tug Leeds right away.”
+
+Skeeter opened the door to go out, but stopped on the threshold, facing
+the Reverend Josiah Weston.
+
+
+
+
+                                  VIII
+
+
+Skeeter’s blows had both injured and humiliated Tug Leeds. His lower
+jaw pained him greatly, but the greater pain was within his soul, for
+Tug Leeds had never been knocked out before. He knew that his power in
+Sunbeam had dwindled, because no man respects or cares to take orders
+from the vanquished.
+
+Nothing was said about the fight to him. He was allowed to recover in
+his own way, get to his feet by his own volition. Tug was in a killing
+mood when he went back to his own room and proceeded to imbibe
+quantities of liquor and rub liniment on his wrenched jaw muscles.
+
+“Twin” Shevlin, who had charge of the Panhandle gambling business,
+thoroughly enjoyed it. Tug had beaten Twin thoroughly a week before,
+and Twin’s crooked mind had worked overtime in wishing disaster to
+come upon Tug Leeds.
+
+Twin was a frail anemic flash gambler type. His linen was always
+spotless, his nails manicured and his tiny mustache always trimmed
+to a nicety. Twin was a crooked gambler. Otherwise he would not have
+been in Tug Leeds’ employ.
+
+It was Twin who first saw Mary Leeds as she came quietly into the
+gambling-hall, looking timidly around, and he lost no time in
+approaching her. He listened while she asked permission to post a
+notice in the place. He read one of the hand-printed notices and
+looked thoughtfully at her.
+
+“I’ll see the boss, if you want me to,” said Twin and went back to the
+room, where Tug was lying on his bed.
+
+Tug cursed vitriolically at the request, but sat up when Twin described
+the girl. Girls were scarce in Sunbeam. The habitués of the Panhandle
+were greatly interested in Mary Leeds. The coarse dance-hall girls
+examined her raiment at close range and were not a bit delicate in their
+comments, but scattered like partridges at the approach of Tug Leeds.
+
+Tug read the notices, a cold glint in his eyes, and was about to give
+the girl to understand that religion was not wanted in Sunbeam, when
+she mentioned the fact that Mr. Sarg was going to help them. Tug grew
+interested.
+
+“What did yuh say Sarg was goin’ to do?” he asked.
+
+Mary told him about the trouble at the Poplar Springs, and of how
+Skeeter Bill had assisted them. The Panhandle crowd listened closely
+while she innocently told of how Skeeter Bill was going to help them
+bring the gospel to Sunbeam. Tug nursed his sore jaw and worked his
+mind overtime.
+
+The Reverend Josiah Weston came to the Panhandle, looking for Mary
+Leeds, just in time to be taken into consideration by Tug Leeds.
+
+“Your daughter’s been tellin’ me about how yuh got taken in by Skeeter
+Sarg,” stated Tug. “He’s a slick _hombre_, that feller. Murdered Jeff
+Billings yesterday, and we runs him out of town. Likely mixed up in
+that killin’ at the Springs and came back to see if there was anythin’
+he overlooked.”
+
+The Reverend Dr. Weston was shocked. Mary Leeds started to voice her
+unbelief, but the buzz of corroborative conversation, regarding the
+killing of Jeff Billings, convinced her that her estimate of Skeeter
+Bill was all wrong. It was hard to believe that Skeeter Bill was a
+murderer, but facts are facts. Skeeter had told them that he was a
+horse-thief.
+
+“But,” objected the Reverend Weston, “why should he be so anxious to
+assist us?”
+
+Tug grinned and caressed his sore jaw. His eyes turned to Mary Leeds and
+back to the minister.
+
+“Pretty girls are scarce in this country,” he said enigmatically.
+
+Mary Leeds flushed and a suppressed giggle came from the group of
+dance-hall girls.
+
+“Do you mean to say that Mr. Sarg had ulterior motives?” asked the
+minister.
+
+“I reckon yuh might call it that, if yuh wanted to be polite,” agreed
+Tug. “He sure had a motive.”
+
+Tug grinned and glanced around the room. There was no one in the place
+except his own crowd. Leaning against the bar, one arm in a sling, stood
+Sandy McClain, indifferently watching and listening. Tug’s eyes narrowed
+at the sight of McClain and their glances met.
+
+McClain was thin-faced, thin-lipped, with eyes as expressionless as blue
+agate. McClain was a capable man--too capable. He was like a wolf which
+runs with the pack, but is not one of them; a strong fighter, which
+seems to bide its time to step in and wrest the leadership from the old
+pack master. Tug Leeds feared McClain.
+
+Tug’s eyes shifted from McClain and he spoke directly to the minister.
+
+“Your horse-thief friend promised yuh a lot, I reckon, but I’ll show yuh
+that Sunbeam appreciates your comin’. Tonight at nine o’clock I’ll let
+yuh preach right in here--here in the Panhandle.”
+
+For a moment there was silence--then McClain laughed. It was not a
+hearty laugh, but a toneless flutter of the vocal cords. The crowd
+flashed a look at McClain, but his face had not changed expression.
+In fact he was not seemingly interested in the conversation. Tug’s
+heavy body stiffened, but he made no move. That laugh annoyed him.
+
+“You--you mean that we can hold services in here?” faltered the
+minister.
+
+“Y’betcha,” nodded Tug, his eyes still on McClain.
+
+“I think it is very kind of you,” said Mary Leeds sweetly.
+
+Again McClain’s lips parted in that toneless chuckle. His eyes lifted
+and he looked blankly at Tug for a moment and then moved sidewise to
+the door and went out.
+
+The going of Sandy McClain seemed to leave a chill over the place.
+Gamblers looked at each other meaningly. One of the dance-hall girls
+drew a hand across her lips, leaving a crimson smudge across her
+cheek. They all had a feeling that something was going to happen very
+soon. McClain was a killer--a rattlesnake which might strike without
+any warning. There was also Skeeter Bill to reckon with. They looked
+askance at Mary Leeds, as if blaming her for interrupting the peace
+of Sunbeam.
+
+“Then it is settled,” said the minister, breaking the quiet, “I shall
+hold services here this evening, and I want to thank you for your
+kindness to me and my--er--daughter. Good-day, sir.”
+
+Mary Leeds turned and followed the old minister outside, while the
+crowd watched them in silence. Then Tug Leeds laughed loudly. Some of
+them, appreciating the wit and humor of their king, also laughed, but
+there was little mirth and no joy in the laughter.
+
+
+
+
+                                   IX
+
+
+Skeeter Bill stared at the minister.
+
+“I--I was just goin’ to start in helpin’ yuh,” stammered Skeeter,
+foolishly.
+
+“I thank you,” said the old minister kindly. “It was fine of you not
+to forget me, but I do not think I will need any assistance. Things
+are progressing very nicely.”
+
+“Yuh got started already?”
+
+“Yes, indeed. Miss--er--my daughter----”
+
+“Miss Leeds,” corrected Skeeter, as the minister hesitated at the sight
+of Judge Tareyton standing behind Skeeter. “The judge _sabes_ the whole
+works.”
+
+“Ah, yes,” nodded the minister; “I see. As I was saying, she has been of
+very much service to me today. I was a trifle dubious over the reception
+accorded me, don’t you see. I talked with the estimable Mrs. Porter and
+she suggested that I--er--preach on the street. I could see the wisdom
+of such a course at once.
+
+“Miss Leeds and I discussed this, with the result that I prepared
+several announcements for services this evening. Miss Leeds and I
+proceeded to post these in prominent places. There was no doubt of
+the sensation these created.”
+
+“I reckon not,” drawled Skeeter.
+
+“But that is not all,” said the minister triumphantly. “Miss Leeds
+asked the owner of a place called the Panhandle if she might post a
+notice therein. The man read it, rather curiously, I think, but
+acquiesced. He talked with Miss Leeds and I for some little time,
+but at the conclusion of this talk he offered to let us have the use
+of his entire establishment for the evening. I told him about your
+kindness to us.”
+
+“Keep on talkin’,” said Skeeter seriously. “What did he say about me?”
+
+“I told him that you were going to help me and he seemed to be greatly
+amused. You were very good to us, Mr. Sarg, and I came over to assure
+you that in spite of anything we appreciate your kindness.”
+
+“In spite of anythin’,” repeated Skeeter. “You’re just as welcome as if
+you burned your shirt.”
+
+For a while there was silence. The minister seemed to be trying to
+continue the conversation, but lacked fitting words. Skeeter Bill’s
+gaze slowly swept the rear of visible buildings and came back to the
+minister.
+
+“Yuh don’t know what that man’s name was, do yuh?”
+
+“They called him Mr. Tug, I think.”
+
+“Mr. Tug,” said Skeeter slowly. “I know him.”
+
+“Yes, I thought you did,” said the minister. “He told me he had ordered
+you out of town.”
+
+“My ----!” gasped Skeeter. “He didn’t leave much of anythin’ to talk
+about, did he? Was the lady there when he talked so much?”
+
+“Yes. He said she should know everything. But I assure you that we are
+very grateful----”
+
+“You’re awful danged welcome,” said Skeeter bitterly. “Good day.”
+
+Skeeter started to shut the door.
+
+“Just a moment,” said the minister, and Skeeter turned his head. “Do
+you know of a family named Honkatonk? I have a message to the Honkatonk
+girls, and I----”
+
+But Skeeter Bill shut the door, leaving the minister finishing his
+sentence to the exterior of the shack.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Judge Tareyton faced Skeeter and they stared at each other for several
+moments. From outside came the sound of footsteps as the minister turned
+and started away. Then the judge sat down on his bunk and picked up the
+bottle.
+
+“At any rate, Skeeter Bill, you are relieved from any further necessity
+of assisting the spreading of gospel in Sunbeam town.”
+
+Skeeter stared at the floor and rubbed a hand slowly across his chin.
+
+“Well, judge, they can’t say I lied to ’em. I told ’em I was a
+horse-thief but they wouldn’t believe me.”
+
+“Skeeter Bill,” said the judge seriously, “you have been vindicated, but
+I still maintain that we are in a ---- precarious position.”
+
+“Feller can’t die but once, judge.”
+
+“Nor live,” nodded the judge, “I am still of the opinion that our skin
+is worth more to us than to posterity. Tonight, when the mantle of
+darkness covers the hills, we really must fold our tents and silently
+steal away.”
+
+“I am a thief,” nodded Skeeter, “but I won’t steal away. Tonight when
+this here mantle covers the hills, I’m goin’ to church; _sabe?_”
+
+Judge Tareyton measured a spot on the bottle and lowered the contents to
+the exact spot.
+
+“Skeeter Bill, I shall go with you. It will shock the devil--I am
+very sure of that, but there will be little cause for the angels to
+sing--yet.”
+
+Judge Tareyton sighed with regret as the supply of liquor dwindled.
+Night came swiftly after the sunset, and the room was already in
+semidarkness. Across the room from the judge stood Skeeter Bill,
+leaning against the one window, his tall figure slightly bowed. There
+were no sounds in the room except the creak of the bed as the judge
+reached for and replaced the almost empty bottle.
+
+Suddenly Skeeter straightened and peered out of the window. A figure was
+coming toward the shack. As it came closer Skeeter saw that it was Mary
+Leeds. As she passed the corner of the shack, Skeeter stepped over and
+opened the door.
+
+She stopped just short of the doorway and peered at him. Neither of them
+spoke for nearly a minute, then Skeeter Bill said softly--
+
+“Evenin’, ma’am.”
+
+“Oh, I--I couldn’t see you very well,” faltered Mary Leeds, “I----”
+
+“Won’t yuh come in?” asked Skeeter.
+
+“No, I----”
+
+“Thassall right,” nodded Skeeter. “I don’t blame yuh.”
+
+“But I want you to--I--” Mary Leeds grew confused.
+
+“Lemme say it for yuh, ma’am. You know I’m a bad _hombre_, but you’re
+tryin’ to excuse me. That’s fine. I sure do appreciate it, but the fact
+that I’m a bad _hombre_ still hangs around, don’t it? Mebbe you’re sorry
+for me, ma’am.”
+
+“Yes,” said Mary Leeds simply.
+
+“Don’t do it, ma’am,” Skeeter straightened up. “Don’t do it. Laugh at me
+if yuh want to, but----”
+
+“I just wanted you to know that it doesn’t make any difference what
+they say about you,” interrupted Mary Leeds. “You were very kind and
+considerate, and I want to thank you for it.”
+
+Judge Tareyton came slowly to the door, brushing back his long hair and
+trying to make his weak knees carry his dead-weight body.
+
+“Good evening,” said Mary Leeds.
+
+“I have never seen a better one,” replied the judge hoarsely, bowing
+with difficulty. “The night hath many charms, but never before have I
+observed them from my own door. Will you not come in?”
+
+“No,” Skeeter shook his head. “No, judge. It ain’t square to her to
+ask her into our house, ’cause she might accept to keep from hurtin’
+our feelin’s.”
+
+“I’m sorry,” said Mary Leeds softly, and turned away.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They watched her disappear in the direction of the Porter home.
+
+“She is sorry,” stated the judge. “Did you hear that, Skeeter Bill? She
+pities you, and pity is akin to love.”
+
+Skeeter laughed hoarsely.
+
+“Pity a horse-thief? Mebbe she could, judge, but it would be as
+impossible as ---- for her to love one. No, she don’t feel sorry for
+me. She’s like a lot of human bein’s, who comes around and tells yuh
+how sorry they are--not doin’ it because they’re sorry, but because
+they figger that it’s the proper thing to do. If she was honest she’d
+tell me that she was much obliged for my help and sorry she bothered
+me.”
+
+“I would rather hear you laugh, Skeeter Bill,” said the judge. “Tug
+Leeds would howl with delight if he knew how you were feeling at
+this moment. I anticipate something out of the ordinary in sermons
+tonight, as I am keyed to such a pitch that I could enjoy something
+extraordinary.”
+
+“If I go there it will mean a killing,” said Skeeter thoughtfully. “The
+preacher and the girl both think I’m plumb ornery now, and if I start a
+killin’ they won’t feel any better about me.”
+
+“Painful but true,” admitted the judge. “But just why did Tug Leeds give
+them the use of the saloon? It is a sure thing that it is not because he
+favors a sermon. Mary Leeds is a mighty likely-looking girl, Skeeter
+Bill.”
+
+Skeeter nodded and turned away from the door. It was dark in the cabin
+and Skeeter mechanically picked up an old bottle and lit the candle
+which was stuck in the neck. The candle flickered for a moment from a
+draught from the open door. Came the crash of splintering glass, the
+candle disappeared, and from outside sounded the whip-like crack of a
+rifle.
+
+Skeeter flung himself sidewise against the wall, while the judge
+stumbled out of line with the door. Two more shots pinged through the
+door, splintering their way out through the back of the cabin.
+
+“Skeeter!” called the judge fearfully.
+
+“Present,” grunted Skeeter. “Everythin’ accounted for except the bottle
+and candle. Keep out of line with that door, judge.”
+
+“Tug Leeds opens the dance,” observed the judge.
+
+“With a bad mistake,” chuckled Skeeter. “He should ’a’ held a foot
+further to the left. That’s the beauty of bein’ skinny, judge. If you’d
+’a’ been in my place you’d a been a ghost right now.”
+
+“What will we do now?”
+
+“Kill somebody, judge. That was a good bottle. I reckon we’ll have to
+Injun a little, but it kinda makes me happy, don’t yuh know it.”
+
+They remained flattened against the walls for a while, but no more shots
+were fired. A cloudy sky blotted out the moon, which made it safe for
+them to leave their protection.
+
+“Just what is our move, Skeeter Bill?” asked the judge. “It is likely
+that the bushwhacker still desires our demise.”
+
+“I dunno,” confessed Skeeter softly, searching around on the floor for
+their candle and placing it on the table.
+
+“I’ve got to see Tug Leeds for a minute or two, and then I’ll--sh-h-h!”
+
+Some one was walking boldly to the cabin, making no pretense of keeping
+quiet. Skeeter stepped in closer to the half-open door, covering the
+opening with his gun. A man stumbled on the crude step and grasped the
+side of the door.
+
+“Sarg!” he called softly.
+
+“Kinda close to yuh, pardner,” said Skeeter Bill easily.
+
+The man laughed.
+
+“Thought I’d missed yuh, Sarg. This is McClung.”
+
+He stepped inside. Skeeter Bill scratched a match as he closed the door,
+and walked over to the candle.
+
+“Didn’t see no light, so I thought mebbe yuh was uptown,” observed
+McClung, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
+
+“The mosquitoes were bad,” explained the judge. “They’re deadly enough
+in the dark and we don’t intend to give them a light to work by.”
+
+“I dunno much about ’em,” grinned McClung. “Never seen one in this
+country.”
+
+“Perhaps I was wrong,” admitted the judge; “I am no bugologist, but I
+heard several of them humming and just drew a natural conclusion.”
+
+McClung looked curiously at Skeeter, who laughed.
+
+“Somebody fired three shots through the door and one of ’em busted the
+light.”
+
+“In the dark?” asked McClung.
+
+“Few minutes ago,” assented Skeeter. “Didn’t amount to nothin’, but
+kinda shows that a feller’s home ain’t sacred nowadays.”
+
+McClung smiled, but grew serious.
+
+“Sarg, we gave you until tomorrow to decide about leadin’ us, but the
+boys are at the Keystone cabin and they want to see yuh.”
+
+Skeeter looked at the judge, who was hanging a blanket over the one
+window. Suddenly the judge staggered back, as if from a heavy blow,
+and from the outside came the _whang_ of a rifle.
+
+The judge regained his balance and turned, a quizzical look on his
+frowsy face. He looked at Skeeter and McClung and pointed back at the
+window.
+
+“Skeeter Bill--you--forgot--window--I--I--they--by--gad--it’s--dark----”
+
+He swayed forward and Skeeter Bill caught him in his arms and
+half-dragged him to the bed. McClung helped Skeeter remove the judge’s
+old Prince Albert coat and the faded shirt. The bullet had torn its way
+completely through the shoulder, making a wicked wound.
+
+“Lucky it was on the right side,” muttered McClung.
+
+Skeeter Bill’s homely face was drawn with suffering as he looked down
+at his partner--his old drunken lawyer partner--and then he looked up
+at McClung.
+
+“He can’t make it, McClung,” hoarsely. “He’s all burnt up with whisky.
+Might as well hit him dead center.”
+
+Judge Tareyton gasped and opened his eyes. For a moment he seemed
+uncertain, but the blurred look faded from his eyes and he half-smiled
+up at Skeeter.
+
+“I know you won’t lie to me, Skeeter Bill,” he said weakly. “Have I got
+a chance?”
+
+Skeeter’s eyes turned slowly away and the lines of his face seemed to
+harden to granite as he turned slowly back and looked down at the judge.
+
+“Judge, that ain’t a fair question. God A’mighty is the only one what
+can answer that. Old pardner, you’ve got a big hole in your right
+shoulder and your body ain’t fit for a hard battle. You’ve still got
+a fightin’ chance, but it’s got to be fought with your brains.”
+
+Judge Tareyton smiled.
+
+“Brains? Skeeter Bill, if I had brains I would still have a fighting
+body. You have been good to me, son. It appears that until now I have
+not realized how good you have been.”
+
+Skeeter Bill turned away, rubbing the palms of his hands on his hips.
+The blurred look came back to Judge Tareyton’s eyes and he began to
+talk incoherently.
+
+“Doc Brashear went to Ophir this afternoon,” said McClung softly. “There
+ain’t a soul what can help him, Sarg.”
+
+“Oh, ----, don’t I know it?” groaned Skeeter. “He’s just a drunken old
+lawshark, McClung, but he’s my pardner. He’s the only one what cares a
+---- about me. That shot was for me, don’t yuh know it?”
+
+Skeeter looked back at the bed for a moment and then turned to McClung.
+
+“Friend, will yuh stay here with him for a little while? I dunno
+whether he’d like it or not, but I’m goin’ to get that preacher. They
+use preachers when folks are passin’ out, don’t they?”
+
+“They do when they can get ’em,” agreed McClung.
+
+Skeeter shifted his cartridge belt and pulled his hat down over his
+eyes.
+
+“Mebbe this one won’t want to come, but he’ll come if I have to cripple
+his legs and pack him here.”
+
+Skeeter hurried to the Porter shack, but there was no one at home.
+Skeeter had no way of telling what time it was, but he knew that the
+minister must be at the Panhandle and that it would be a man-sized
+job to hold conversation with him in that place.
+
+
+
+
+                                   X
+
+
+Sunbeam had started in early on its nightly orgy. The yellow lights from
+the saloons and gambling-houses threw shadows out of which weaved miner
+and cowboy as they made their way from place to place. The rasping notes
+from fiddles, the discordant jangle of out-of-tune piano, blended with
+the raucous whoops from alcoholized vocal cords.
+
+Skeeter Bill noticed that the larger crowd was at the Panhandle and he
+surmised that the sermon was the attraction. Straight to the doorway he
+went and squeezed his way inside. Luckily Skeeter was taller than most
+of the crowd, which gave him an almost unobstructed view of things.
+
+On the performer’s platform stood the minister, with Mary Leeds beside
+him. At the other end of the platform was the fiddler and piano player.
+Tug Leeds leaned against the piano, grinning at a half-nude dance-hall
+girl, who was just coming from the rear of the platform. She halted at
+the center and laughed down at the crowd, which yelped a welcome to
+her. Tug Leeds swung away from the piano and came to her side, where he
+held up his hand for silence.
+
+“Gents, it’s customary to open church with a song, ain’t it? All right,
+we’ll have the song.”
+
+The two-piece orchestra broke into the introduction of a vulgar
+honkatonk song--a song too unclean for sober minds. Skeeter Bill
+knew what it meant--knew what Tug Leeds was aiming at. He was going
+to disgust the minister. Mary Leeds’ face was indistinct through the
+haze of tobacco smoke, but Skeeter could see her glance around as if
+seeking an avenue of escape. The minister moved closer to her, as
+though to protect her as much as possible.
+
+The shrill voice of the singer began on the second verse, when Skeeter
+moved forward. No one gave him any heed except to swear at him for
+jostling them. Tug Leeds’ gang were grouped close to the platform,
+enjoying the song, when Skeeter Bill shoved his way past the last man
+and sprang to the platform. The fiddler blocked his way, but Skeeter
+flung him aside and he fell off the edge of the platform into the
+crowd.
+
+Tug Leeds leaned forward and stared at Skeeter, who stepped back until
+he had no one behind him. Skeeter swung a heavy pistol in his right
+hand as he faced the assemblage. Like a flash the singer darted back
+and disappeared to the rear of the platform. Not a sound came from the
+audience. Suddenly a man seemed to move. Like a flash Skeeter fired
+straight down into the front row of the crowd.
+
+The heavy pistol seemed to shake the building--then absolute silence for
+a moment. A man spoke:
+
+“By ----, that’s shootin’! Cullop never moved, ’cept to go down.”
+
+“What do you want here?” asked Tug, and his voice was almost a croak.
+
+Skeeter Bill never moved a muscle and his eyes were invisible slits,
+which seemed to hide the pupils completely, making it impossible to
+tell just where he was looking. His lips barely moved as he replied:
+
+“Your hired murderer missed me and hit my pardner. I want the preacher
+to go and see him.”
+
+“Don’t move, Tug,” he gritted, as Leeds relaxed. “I’m takin’ a little
+time on your case. ’Pears to me that I can’t make up my mind whether
+to shoot yuh through the head and kill yuh all to once or to shoot
+your insides out one at a time and give me somethin’ to laugh at.”
+
+From down in the crowd came a toneless laugh. Sandy McClain was standing
+on the front row, one arm still in a sling. The laugh jarred on Tug’s
+nerves and he turned his head to glare at McClain.
+
+Men began to ease out of the place, backing into each other in their
+haste to get out of range. The minister and Mary Leeds had turned and
+were staring at Skeeter.
+
+“You want the preacher?” asked Tug hoarsely. “I ain’t keepin’ him, am
+I?” Tug’s voice shrilled at the finish of the sentence.
+
+“You dirty coyote!” Skeeter’s voice was dangerously even. “You brought
+that preacher and the girl here to make ’em ashamed. You invited ’em to
+use this place for a church and then you makes ’em listen to a rotten
+song sung by a naked woman who ain’t got no more shame than a buzzard.”
+
+Tug Leeds did not reply. From down on the floor in front of the crowd
+came a muffled curse. Some one had trampled on the fiddler’s hand. Again
+came Sandy McClain’s toneless chuckle. Skeeter Bill spoke directly to
+the minister.
+
+“Go to my place as fast as yuh can and see if there’s anythin’ yuh can
+do for my pardner. Take the girl with yuh, and see if yuh can’t find
+Mrs. Porter. This ain’t no place for either of yuh. Git goin’, can’t
+yuh?”
+
+The platform was built about three feet above the floor level and the
+entrance was at the rear, but the minister dropped to the floor and
+helped Mary Leeds down. The crowd parted to let them through, but
+closed in behind them again. Skeeter saw three of Leeds’ men swing in
+behind them, but he was unable to stop them before the lane was choked
+with moving figures. For an instant Skeeter was off his guard, but it
+was enough.
+
+Like a flash Tug Leeds grasped the back of the fiddler’s chair and
+hurled it at Skeeter. Leeds was a powerful man and he threw the chair
+as an ordinary man would fling a cane. Skeeter whirled and fired, but
+the chair struck him across the face and hand, spoiling the shot.
+Before he could shoot again Leeds was into him with a rush and they
+went backward off the platform.
+
+The crash of their fall shook the building, but they fell sidewise
+with neither man on top. A pistol flashed almost in Skeeter’s face
+and the powder seared his cheek, but he broke Leeds’ hold and plowed
+forward on his hands and knees. Men were kicking at him and more
+than one landed, but he managed to block them from his face. Above
+the yells of the attack came the slow _pop-pop_ of a pistol, as if
+some one were shooting deliberately.
+
+Skeeter fought his way to his feet, crashing a man against the wall
+and securing his gun by main strength. He dashed the blood from his
+forehead, where he had cut it in the struggle for the gun, and
+whirled.
+
+Against the side of the platform stood Sandy McClain, leaning on his
+injured arm, and as Skeeter looked he fired his last shot. A man slid
+against the wall, clawing for support and went down. From the packed
+crowd came a shot and McClain dropped his gun. He swayed for a moment,
+looked over toward Skeeter and spoke clearly:
+
+“Go after Leeds, Sarg! He’s got it framed to steal the girl for himself
+and then lead the vigilantes to hang you for it. You’ve spoiled his
+game, but he’s tryin’ to get her anyway.”
+
+Skeeter Bill shoved away from the wall, covering the remains of the
+crowd.
+
+“Why do you tell me this, McClain?” asked Skeeter.
+
+McClain laughed tonelessly, swaying on his feet.
+
+“Go and get her, man. For ----’s sake don’t let Tug----”
+
+He swayed to his knees and sat flat on the floor.
+
+Skeeter backed to the door and sprang into the night. He had no idea
+of where to go. Blindly he ran to the Porter shack and flung the door
+open. Mrs. Porter, resplendent in a new hat, which was half-twisted on
+her head, her dress torn and soiled, as if she had been in a battle,
+was sitting rigidly in a home-made rocking-chair, staring into space.
+
+“Where is that girl?” asked Skeeter breathlessly.
+
+Mrs. Porter looked at him trance-like, and he went over and shook her
+roughly.
+
+“Where is that girl?” he repeated.
+
+“The stable!” Mrs. Porter’s vocal cords suddenly came to life. “Tug
+Leeds’ stable! I was near the door of the saloon when they came out. Two
+men grabbed her. I tried to stop them but they knocked me down.” Mrs.
+Porter shook as if she had a chill, but continued. “Then Tug Leeds came
+running and helped them. I--I--they struck me when I screamed, but I saw
+them go to Tug’s stable.”
+
+Skeeter Bill whirled and ran out. It was about three hundred yards to
+Leeds’ stable and corral, but Skeeter covered the distance as if running
+for his life. Around the corral fence he ran and stopped just in time to
+keep from crashing into several saddled horses. Muffled voices came from
+inside the barn, and he could hear Tug Leeds’ voice cursing harshly.
+
+The door was flung open and the three came out, carrying a muffled
+figure. Skeeter was standing on the right side of the horse, motionless
+as a statue. The men came up to the left side of the animal.
+
+“Is this the right horse?” asked Tug.
+
+“Uh-huh,” growled one of the men.
+
+“Well, rope her on good,” ordered Tug. “Tie her feet to the stirrups and
+under the horse’s belly and then tie her to cantle and horn. I hope to
+---- that somebody killed Sarg. He busted up a good thing for me, ----
+him! Now, we’ve all got to leave. Anyway, I got that old booze fightin’
+lawyer.”
+
+Not a sound came from the muffled figure as they hoisted it to the
+saddle.
+
+“Go around and rope the other side, Allen,” said Leeds.
+
+Skeeter stepped in close to the horse, and as Allen came up from under
+the horse’s neck Skeeter brought the barrel of his six-shooter down
+across his head. Allen dropped without a sound.
+
+“What in ---- was that?” asked Leeds.
+
+Skeeter reached out, picked up the reins and with a swift spring swung
+on behind the saddle. As his left leg whirled across he felt the toe of
+his boot strike a man in the head.
+
+Came a muffled curse, and the flash of a pistol lit up the scene. The
+horse whirled sidewise, snorting with fear, and bucked viciously. It
+was probably its first experience in carrying double and it resented
+it with every muscle in its body.
+
+Skeeter grasped the swaying figure in both arms, locked his heels
+into the animal’s flanks and rode as he had never ridden before. They
+crashed into the corral fence and the horse stumbled to its knees,
+but floundered back into its stride and pitched straight ahead in the
+dark, while behind them came curses and pistol shots.
+
+Skeeter had no control over the bucking horse, as he had to devote all
+his time to keeping himself and the blanketed figure in the saddle from
+being thrown. He was forced to drop his gun. Leeds and his men had
+selected a powerful horse--a horse well versed in the arts of bucking,
+and Skeeter was riding under a handicap. He was unable to judge the
+future actions of the animal, unable to see where they were going.
+
+Suddenly the animal seemed to spin in the air, came the crash of
+splintering poles and the horse and its riders came down in a tangle.
+The horse had bucked sidewise into a pole corral.
+
+Skeeter rolled loose from the tangle, dazedly trying to prevent the
+horse from regaining its feet. He knew that Mary Leeds’ right foot
+must be tied to a stirrup and that he must not let the horse get up.
+Suddenly he realized that the horse was making no effort to rise. It
+was but the work of a moment to remove the ropes from the stirrup
+and drag her away from the saddle.
+
+He found a match and scratched it on his boot heel. From the folds of a
+large blanket Mary Leeds’ frightened eyes looked up into his face.
+
+“Skeeter Bill,” she whispered painfully.
+
+“One and the same,” grinned Skeeter painfully. “We sure do meet in the
+----est places, don’t we, ma’am.”
+
+As the match flickered out he saw her eyes close and her body relax.
+
+
+
+
+                                   XI
+
+
+Skeeter could hear horses running and the hoarse cry of a man, trying
+to give an order. A running horse passed them and swung to the left
+beyond the corral fence. Skeeter got to his feet. He was bruised and
+wrenched and one sleeve of his shirt was missing. He shook the haze
+from his brain and leaned against the fence.
+
+Skeeter knew that Leeds would not give up trying to get the girl and
+he laughed foolishly as he thought of Tug Leeds trying to kidnap his
+own daughter. Then he thought of Judge Tareyton. Events had happened
+so fast that he had forgotten his old partner.
+
+He picked up the inert figure of the girl and stumbled around the
+corral, tripping over loose poles in his haste. Shadowy outlines of
+buildings gave him direction and he weaved toward his shack. He saw
+the door open and a man went inside, leaving the door half-open. The
+figure looked big and unreal, as it bulked into the doorway, blotting
+out the candlelight.
+
+Into the doorway stumbled Skeeter Bill with his burden and stopped,
+letting the girl half-slide to the floor. Mary Leeds was conscious
+again and grasped Skeeter for support. Skeeter stared around the
+room. On the bed was the judge, his face as gray as his unkempt hair.
+The gross appearance seemed to have left his features--bringing back
+the old lines of character. The blanket had been pulled to his chin
+and, except for his eyes, he was as motionless as though dead.
+
+Skeeter’s eyes shifted to McClung, who was standing near the head of the
+bed, his hands raised as high as his shoulders. Skeeter turned quickly.
+Standing between him and the door was Tug Leeds, a pistol in each hand
+and a sneering grin on his face. Mary Leeds shuddered as she clung to
+Skeeter.
+
+“You was so ---- strong for religion, Sarg; go ahead and pray.”
+
+Tug Leeds’ voice was quivering with anger. He stepped slowly around, as
+if afraid some one might come to the door behind him.
+
+Skeeter Bill made no move. Tug had McClung’s gun, and Tug knew that
+every one in the room was at his mercy. Skeeter Bill glanced back at
+the judge, whose burning eyes were fastened on Tug Leeds.
+
+“Where is the preacher?” asked Skeeter softly.
+
+Tug Leeds laughed aloud and without turning his head, pointed toward the
+corner, where Skeeter could see the crumpled figure of a man.
+
+“Tried to tell me my business,” sneered Tug.
+
+“Well, what do yuh aim to do?” asked Skeeter bluntly.
+
+Tug laughed mockingly.
+
+“You won’t care, Sarg. No, you won’t care, ’cause you won’t see it,
+---- you; you’ve ruined me in Sunbeam, but it ain’t goin’ to be no
+satisfaction to you, _sabe?_ I don’t mind tellin’ you that I’m goin’
+to take that girl with me.
+
+“I ain’t got a ---- bit of use for her, Sarg. I can get all the girls
+I want--plenty of ’em. You’ve crossed me and I’m doin’ this to make
+you pay, do yuh understand? When I get through with her she can blame
+you for it all, and I want you to die knowin’ that I’m doin’ this--not
+because I want the girl, but because I want to get even with you.”
+
+Skeeter looked down at the terrified eyes of Mary Leeds and back at
+Tug’s grinning face.
+
+“You can’t take her, Tug.” Skeeter’s voice was cold as ice. “You can
+kill me, but yuh can’t take her.”
+
+“Can’t I?” laughed Tug. “Who will stop me?”
+
+“You will,” said Skeeter wearily.
+
+Tug leaned closer, his knuckles white around the butt of the heavy
+caliber pistol.
+
+“I will? Whatcha mean?” Tug’s voice was barely above a whisper.
+“Talk--can’tcha?”
+
+Skeeter Bill looked at Mary Leeds.
+
+“I’ve gotta do it, ma’am. I don’t want no hurt to come to yuh, but I
+reckon the hurt is less this way.
+
+He lifted his eyes and stared at Tug Leeds for a moment, and then:
+
+“Tug, you ---- near made a big mistake. This girl----”
+
+The shack seemed to shake with a muffled explosion. Skeeter whirled
+toward the bed, where a cloud of smoke eddied from under the corner
+of the blanket and a tiny spiral mounted from a torn, smudgy spot
+just over where the judge’s hand would be.
+
+Beyond a slight jerk, Tug Leeds did not move for a moment. His hand
+unclasped from the butt of his pistol, which had covered Skeeter, and
+it fell to the floor. The other pistol dropped from his left hand and
+he looked foolishly around.
+
+“Well,” he whispered, as if in agreement, “well--that--is--finished--”
+and fell slowly, as a tree falls.
+
+Skeeter swept the two guns from the floor, looked down at Tug Leeds and
+then stepped quickly over to the bed, smothering out the fire from Judge
+Tareyton’s pistol. He looked down at the judge, who was trying to speak.
+
+“Skeeter Bill,” he whispered painfully, “I had to do it to save you
+both. Keep smiling, son, and don’t forget that God put a spark in you--a
+spark that will flare up and build a big flame for you--if you let it. I
+never gave mine a chance, but----”
+
+He tried to lift himself a trifle, but sank back.
+
+“Skeeter Bill, the preacher was right, when he said it was a dim place.
+Yes, by gad, it’s getting awful dim.”
+
+He smiled up at Skeeter and his voice was barely audible.
+
+“I--I--guess--the--old--lamp--needs--oil.”
+
+Skeeter turned away, his eyes blurred. A man stumbled through the
+door and stopped near the middle of the room. It was Sandy McClain,
+hatless, almost shirtless, with a smear of blood across his face and
+chest. His eyes stared vacantly around the room and came to rest on
+the prone figure of Tug Leeds.
+
+Mary Leeds stepped in close to Skeeter and grasped him by the arm.
+
+“What--who is that man,” she asked, pointing to Tug. “What were you
+going to tell him? Who is he?”
+
+“Somebody beat me to it,” said McClain in a hollow voice, shaking his
+head sadly. “I kinda wanted to kill Tug Leeds myself. I--I wanted
+to--honestly.”
+
+“Tug Leeds?” asked Mary foolishly, looking up at Skeeter. “Tug Leeds?”
+
+Skeeter nodded.
+
+“Yes, ma’am. I reckon you’ve got to know it sometime.”
+
+“My father?”
+
+Mary Leeds moved forward, staring down at the body of Tug Leeds. Sandy
+McClain stared at her, open-mouthed, vacantly. He looked at Skeeter Bill
+and back at her.
+
+Mary turned to Skeeter.
+
+“Why--why didn’t somebody tell me that he was my father?”
+
+McClain stepped closer to her, peering at her face.
+
+“What is your name?” he asked slowly. “Your name?”
+
+“Mary Leeds.”
+
+Sandy McClain stared at her--stared at her as if she was a ghost. A look
+of wonderment flashed across his face and he glanced quickly around the
+room. His lips twitched for a moment and he turned back to the girl.
+
+“What was your mother’s name?”
+
+“Jane.”
+
+“Jane Holden.”
+
+“Yes,” said Mary Leeds wonderingly. “My father’s name was James Leeds.”
+
+“He was a thief,” said McClain slowly. “He was sent West to buy a lot
+of cattle, but he--” McClain stopped and looked around. “That was years
+ago and the West was a long ways from the East. He went back East and
+lied to those men. He told them that he had been robbed--that a man had
+impersonated him and cashed the checks. They sent him to prison.”
+
+Mary Leeds looked down at Tug Leeds and shook her head, while the tears
+ran down her cheeks. She threw out her arms in a gesture of weariness.
+
+“That was not true,” she said brokenly. “I have been trying to find him
+and tell him it isn’t true, but now----”
+
+“What was that?” exclaimed McClain. “Wasn’t true?”
+
+“No, it wasn’t true. One of the men--a man who knew he was going West
+with that money, and who followed and helped rob him--died over a year
+ago, but before he died he confessed enough to clear my father’s name.
+But my father escaped from prison the night of that confession.”
+
+Mary Leeds dropped on her knees beside Tug Leeds’ body and sobbed
+brokenly. Sandy McClain, wounded outlaw, laughed hollowly, foolishly.
+Skeeter Bill stepped in close to him, thinking that McClain had lost
+his mind, but McClain shoved away from him and weaved over to Mary.
+
+“Get up,” he croaked, and Mary looked appealingly up at him. “Get up!
+My ----, don’t waste tears on that carrion. That man is the one who
+impersonated your father. Don’t you hear me? He took the name of Leeds
+and he’s never been able to change it.”
+
+“This man is not my father?” Mary Leeds got to her feet and stared
+around. “Not--my--father?”
+
+McClain shook his head.
+
+“No. I knowed your father, Miss. Me and him was in the same
+penitentiary. That man--” he pointed at Tug Leeds’ body--“that man
+wasn’t fit to oil his boots. He ruined your father and ended by
+killing him.”
+
+“What do yuh mean?” gasped Skeeter Bill.
+
+McClain pointed to the bunk.
+
+“Judge Tareyton was James Leeds. I knew his story. My time was up a few
+days after he escaped.”
+
+McClain finished his explanation and turned toward the door, where a
+crowd of miners were coming in, headed by Jerry Byler and Dick Franklyn.
+They stopped and stared at the body of Tug Leeds. The old minister had
+got to his feet and was looking weakly around, a welter of blood on his
+gray hair, where Tug had hit him with a gun.
+
+“Boys,” said McClung, “I reckon there ain’t much use for a vigilance
+committee now. Dick, your pardner was the head of the whole gang.”
+
+“We kinda cleaned up up-town,” nodded Franklyn. “That feller Cullop
+told us a few things before he cashed in and we rounded up all the
+rest--cripples and all. Sunbeam is rid of outlaws, Mac--thanks to
+Sarg.”
+
+“Thanks to Sarg,” said Skeeter Bill slowly. “Boys, I’ve lost my
+pardner--my old drunken lawyer pardner. I asks yuh to see that he gets
+p-planted right--preacher and all. He wasn’t much to anybody--but me,
+don’t yuh see--not while he was alive. I--I reckon I’ll say _adios_ to
+yuh all, folks.”
+
+Skeeter Bill turned and started for the door. The miners stepped aside
+to let him pass out, but McClung stopped him at the threshold.
+
+“Sarg, you ain’t goin’ to leave Sunbeam, are yuh?”
+
+Skeeter smiled wistfully and nodded.
+
+“Sunbeam has got to be clean, McClung--clean of outlaws. There’s two
+left. McClain is entitled to your thanks for what he done tonight, and
+I know danged well he’ll go straight if yuh give him a chance--and a
+doctor.
+
+“The other one--” he stopped and glanced back at the figure on the
+bed--“the other one don’t want no thanks--not till he works that little
+spark up to a decent-sized blaze. He’s goin’ now--thanks to Sarg.”
+
+He stepped quickly outside and went around the corner toward his little
+barn. The miners poured question after question at Mary and McClung, but
+the girl shoved them away and ran to the door.
+
+“Skeeter Bill!” she called. “Skeeter Bill!”
+
+The crowd edged in behind her, wonderingly, silently listening for a
+reply.
+
+A few moments later it came--a _diminuendo_ of galloping hoofs. Skeeter
+Bill Sarg was heading for the desert, following a star, which was, as
+yet, only a tiny spark.
+
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the March 30, 1922 issue of
+Adventure magazine.]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78698 ***