diff options
Diffstat (limited to '78727-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 78727-0.txt | 5508 |
1 files changed, 5508 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/78727-0.txt b/78727-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c340331 --- /dev/null +++ b/78727-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5508 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78727 *** + + TRAMPS OF THE RANGE + + W. C. Tuttle + + Author of “Flames of the Storm,” + “The Ranch of the Tombstones,” etc. + + +The first faint flush of dawn was creeping over the Mission River +hills, as the Overland train drew to a stop at the little town of +Moon Flats. It was only a moment’s pause, but in that length of time +a man had dropped off the rods of the baggage-car, crept between the +trucks and walked slowly down the main street. + +The town was deserted at this time in the morning, and the man seemed +to study the dimly outlined, false-fronted buildings as if he had been +there before. + +Moon Flats was a cow town--nothing more nor less. It was a +shipping-point for the Mission River ranges, which also made it an +outfitting point. Like the majority of the old cow towns it had one +street, narrow wooden sidewalks, the tops of which were never securely +nailed down, long hitch-racks and a pavement of deep, yellow dust in +the Summer and a quagmire of mud and slush in the Winter. + +As the light grew stronger it illuminated the faded and battered signs +of the Moon Flats Gambling House, Buck Franey’s Place, Bill Eagle’s +General Merchandise, Jakie Dick’s Élite Café and Restaurant, Trail End +Gambling House, Mission River Stage-Office and General Post-Office. + +The stronger light also illuminated the features of the man who studied +them--a young face, although deeply lined and with a slight pallor, as +if from sickness. + +His eyes were dark, and his black hair showed slightly silvered at the +temple, as if lightly brushed with a white powder. His nose was slightly +hooked, and his lips seemed molded into a thin line above a strong chin. + +He was slightly above the average in height, but just a trifle stooped. +His garb was nondescript, dirty and greasy from travel. As he studied +the signs a half-smile passed across his face and he sat down on the +sidewalk in front of the Moon Flats Gambling House. By turning a pocket +inside out, he managed to collect enough tobacco to roll a thin cigaret, +which burned with the unmistakable odor of lint, but the man did not +seem to mind. + +Across the street, in the two-story, ramshackle Cattlemen’s Hotel, an +alarm-clock started its tin-panny whirr, and in a moment a man’s voice +was raised in sleepy profanity. The man on the sidewalk smiled. + +There was silence for a few minutes, and again the clock shattered +the silence. A moment later the cheap curtains were flung aside, an +arm described an outward arc and the faithful despoiler of slumber +splintered on the sidewalk. + +This time the man on the sidewalk laughed softly. It was all so +human--and he was unused to human things. And as if the splintering of +the clock was a signal, Moon Flats began to wake up. From behind the +Élite Café came the sounds of some one splitting kindling, and over at +the livery stable the sliding doors creaked as the stable man came out +and looked around. Doors slammed in the hotel. + +A sleepy-eyed, uncombed cowboy came around a corner from a corral, +leading two horses which he watered at the livery stable watering +trough. He paid no attention to the man on the sidewalk as he went +past, but on his return trip he stared hard and rubbed his ear with a +rope end, as if wondering or thinking. The man on the sidewalk spat +dryly. + +The door behind him opened and a man came out, carrying two wooden +buckets, while another lounged in the doorway, holding a broom in +both hands. They were swampers, getting ready to clean out the place. +The man with the buckets crossed to the pump beside the stable, where +he filled the buckets, accompanied by much creaking protest from the +old pump. + +In a few minutes the two cowboys came out of the hotel, yawned widely +and started across the street, arguing. + +“I never done no such a ---- thing!” declared one of them. “All I done +was wind it.” + +“Whatcha want to wind it fer?” queried the other. “It wasn’t your clock, +Newt. My gosh! What did you care ’f it run down? Wakin’ us up at five +o’clock! I s’pose you thought it was scientific, didn’t yuh? Knowed that +clocks would wind up; so yuh wanted to do the right thing by it, eh?” + +“Tha’s it, Monte,” agreed the other. “Let her go at that, can’t cha? +You’d holler if yuh was goin’ to be sent to the----” + +He stopped abruptly as he looked at the man on the sidewalk and squinted +sharply, as if not believing his own eyes. + +The man on the sidewalk looked them over coldly--a half-amused +expression about his thin lips. + +“Shell Romaine!” blurted the one called Newt. + +“Yeah,” nodded the man on the sidewalk. “Shelby Romaine.” + +“Well, I’m ----!” + +Newt Bowie rubbed his chin and looked at Monte Barnes, who was pursing +his lips as if trying to whistle, though no sound came forth. + +“Moon Flats ain’t changed much in a year,” observed Romaine dryly. + +“No-o-o, she ain’t--for sure,” agreed Newt, looking around as if +considering the unprogressiveness of Moon Flats. “She ain’t growed +much, Shell.” + +“When didja come back?” queried Monte. + +“Just before yore alarm went off.” + +“Oh, that ---- thing!” + +Monte glanced back at the hotel. + +“Newt, the danged fool, went and ----” + +“Aw, let up on the poor old clock,” interrupted Newt. “Anybody’d think +you’d been abused, cowboy. You ain’t seen a sunrise f’r so long that you +don’t know it ever comes up.” + +Newt and Monte sat down on the steps and relaxed. It was not difficult +for either of them to relax, and their shoulder-blades were calloused +from half-reclining against corral posts or tree-trunks. + +“Goin’ t’ be here f’r a while, Shell?” asked Newt. + +“Mebbe.” + +“Uh-huh.” + +Newt wanted information, but did not feel like asking pointblank for it. + + * * * * * + +Slightly over a year before, Shelby Romaine had been sent to the +penitentiary for five years. Two men had held up the Mission County +Bank at Sula, stolen thirty thousand dollars and shot the cashier. +The cashier was crippled for life. + +Jim Searles, a cowboy, who was an eyewitness of the robbers’ getaway, +swore that he recognized one of them as being Shell Romaine. The +Romaines, father and son, were of rather bad reputation, and it was +not difficult to secure a conviction. + +Old “Rim-Fire” Romaine, the father, battled mightily for his son. He +was an old, lean-faced, white-mustached range man; quick-tempered, +bitter of tongue, and reputed to be fast with a gun. The defense was +weak, but there still remained--circumstantial evidence. + +Shell Romaine refused to tell where the money was hidden, nor would he +implicate any one else. The prosecution was also weak, but the jury +brought in a verdict of guilty, and the judge sentenced Shelby Romaine +to serve five years in Deer Park prison. + +Old Rim-Fire Romaine cursed the judge and jury bitterly, and only +through the intervention of the defense attorney was Rim-Fire +prevented from filling the courtroom with powder smoke. Old Rim-Fire +had gone back to his little ranch-house, fairly sizzling with anger, +while Shelby, linked to Undersheriff “Splinter” See, had gone to +prison. + +Many folk were of the opinion that Shell Romaine should have received a +heavier sentence, but the State was satisfied. He was reputed to be a +hard-riding, wild sort of a ----, who respected no one; and the Mission +range-folks breathed easier after he was gone. + +But now he was back, looking like a tramp; a little leaner, slightly +more white about the temples, but still keen of eye. The prison pallor +still showed in his face, but a few days of sun would wipe that away. + +“Seen anythin’ of my old dad?” + +Shell’s voice was low. + +“Yeah, I seen him the other day,” replied Newt. “Same old feller. Know +yo’re out, Shell?” + +“No. Is he still runnin’ the ranch?” + +“Yeah.” + +Shell watched Newt roll and light a cigaret before he said-- + +“Anythin’ new goin’ on around here?” + +Newt inhaled deeply and blew the ash off his cigaret. + +“No-o-o, nothin’ much, except the feller they calls the ‘Black Rider.’” + +“He’s a-plenty,” grunted Monte seriously. + +“Black Rider?” + +“Uh-huh.” + +Newt nodded and puffed slowly. + +“Some jasper is liftin’ treasure-boxes, robbin’ banks, et cetery, and he +dresses all in black. He’s sure a dinger, that feller; and he’s got the +sheriff pawin’ his head.” + +Shell stared at the toes of his worn shoes for a moment, and a bitter +smile twisted his lips as he looked at Newt. + +“It’s a wonder they don’t say it’s the man who helped me do that Mission +Bank job.” + +“That’s what they’re sayin’,” nodded Newt. + +Shell laughed shortly. + +“He must be smarter than I am.” + +“He’s smart as ----,” agreed Monte quickly. “He’s about ten thousand +dollars ahead of the game now.” + +“Includin’ his half of the thirty thousand we stole, makes him kinda +rich,” mused Shell. + +“Yeah, that’s a fact,” grinned Newt. “’F he’s real cute, he’ll quit +while the quittin’ is good.” + +“Takes brains, I reckon,” sighed Shell. “A ---- fool never knows when to +quit. Pat Haley’s still sheriff, ain’t he?” + +“Yeah, Pat is still lookin’ for suspects.” + +“Pat’s all right--good sheriff,” nodded Shell. “Just ’cause he shipped +me to the pen, don’t make me sore at him. He treated me right. No--” +Shell shook his head--“I ain’t sore at none of them judges, lawyers nor +jury. They done their dangdest, I reckon.” + +“Jim Searles is still around here,” volunteered Monte. + +“Thasso?” + +Shell was too indifferent to this. + +“Yeah, he’s still around here.” + +“Lemme have yore Durham,” said Shell, holding out his hand to Newt. “I +ain’t had nothin’ but pocket-scrapin’s for quite a while.” + +“He’p yoreself, pardner, and then we’ll have a little mornin’ snifter.” + +“Much obliged for the smoke, but I ain’t drinkin’--thank yuh kindly, +Newt. I’ve been away from it a year, and I’m kinda sanitary and +antiseptic, I reckon. I kinda get a kick outa settin’ here and lookin’ +at the old town.” + +“She ain’t much t’ look upon,” grinned Monte. + +“It’s home,” said Shell softly as he lowered his head to lick the edge +of his cigaret paper, “and I’ve been away for a good many lifetimes.” + + * * * * * + +That same morning Cal Severn stood on the spacious veranda of the +Diamond-S ranch-house, leaning against the railing as he moodily smoked +a cigaret, his somber eyes taking in the wide vista of rolling hills and +the sun-tinted Mission range beyond. + +Just beyond the huddle of barns and shelter-sheds a long line of +cottonwoods and willows marked the twisting course of Whispering +Creek. To the south lay mile upon mile of broken, rolling hills, an +ideal cattle range. + +The Diamond-S was the largest, and reputed to be the richest, cattle +outfit in the Mission River range; owned for years by the Severn +family, of which Cal Severn was the last of his line. Square-shooting, +upstanding folks were the old Severns, proud, perhaps arrogant. + +Cal Severn was barely thirty years of age, well-built, bronzed as an +Indian. His face was lean but well proportioned, and his dusky-gray +eyes remained indifferent, dreaming, even when his lips laughed. Like +all of the Severns, he was quick of temper, slow to forgive; and Cal +Severn was a fighter--a hard-riding fighter of the old rangeland. + +Two men rode in at the big gate and halted at the corral, where they +talked with two of the Diamond-S cowboys, who were saddling their +horses. Cal Severn watched these two men turn their horses and ride +toward him. They were strangers in the Mission River range; cowboys, +by their garb. + +One of them was tall, swarthy, with a heavy mustache and a hawk-like +face; the other shorter, wiry of build, and with a face filled with +grin-wrinkles. The tall one, in spite of his serious mien, appeared +ready to laugh at any time. + +They drew rein and nodded to Cal Severn. + +“Lookin’ for work,” announced the tall one. “Me ’n’ him,” indicating his +companion. + +Severn shook his head. + +“Not taking in any hands now.” + +He shifted his position and tossed away his cigaret. + +“Fact of the matter is, I’m laying off all, but one, of my boys today.” + +“Thasso?” + +The tall one seemed sympathetic. For a moment he considered Severn, and +then his eyes swept around the confines of the Diamond-S as he reached +to an inside pocket of his vest and took out a folded paper. + +“Mind readin’ this?” he asked, handing the paper out to Severn, who took +it and unfolded it slowly. + +His eyes grew even more sober, and his lips settled into a harsh line as +he scanned the typewritten page. + +His eyes came up from the letter, and he stared off across the hills, +thinking deeply. + +“Yuh _sabe_ the idea, don’t yuh?” queried the tall one. + +Cal Severn seemed to jerk back to the present, and after a few moments +he nodded slowly and handed the letter back to its owner. + +“Yeah, I reckon I understand,” he said. “You’ll find bunks down there--” +pointing toward the bunk-house--“and just make yourselves to home. Henry +Horsecollar’ll fix yuh up.” + +“I’m Hartley,” said the tall one. “Folks calls me ‘Hashknife.’ This +wide-awake pardner of mine was christened Geor-gh, but answers to +‘Sleepy.’ How far is it to town?” + +“Six miles,” shortly. + +Cal Severn turned and walked back into the house, while Hashknife +Hartley and Sleepy Stevens rode down to the bunk-house and dismounted. +A tired-looking individual came around the corner and looked them +over. + +“Want t’ see somebody?” he asked. + +Hashknife shook his head. + +“No-o-o, I reckon not. We’ve just hired out to the Diamond-S.” + +“Thasso? Huh!” + +The man rubbed his ear violently. + +“Kinda funny, seems like. Boss said he was cuttin’ down the crew, and he +let Newt Bowie and Monte Barnes go yesterday.” + +“He hired us,” grinned Sleepy. “Mebbe he knows two danged good men when +he sees ’em, pardner.” + +“Mebbe,” dryly. “M’name’s Dryden; first name’s Henry and m’ middle +name’s Harrison. H. H. Dryden.” + +“They sure branded yuh,” grinned Hashknife. “I’m Hartley, and my +pardner’s name is Stevens. Hashknife Hartley and Sleepy Stevens.” + +“T’ meetcha,” bowed Dryden. “Howsa folks?” + +“That,” said Hashknife seriously, “would be pryin’ into our private +lives.” + +“Ex-cuse me plumb to ----!” exclaimed Dryden, very apologetic and also +very serious. “I’ll kinda he’p yuh git settled in the bunk-house.” + +He led them inside the spacious bunk-house and allotted each of them +a bunk. The room was large enough to accommodate twelve men, and as +the Diamond-S force had been cut down they were able to select their +own sleeping-places. + +“Strangers around here?” queried Dryden. + +“Uh-huh,” admitted Hashknife. “Tee-to-tally.” + +“I sure know her from stem t’ gudgeon.” + +Dryden smiled over his superior knowledge. It was not often that Dryden, +known as “Henry Horsecollar,” was able to get any one to listen. + +“I know this here country jist like a book,” he went on. “I know +everything about her. There ain’t a cañon nor a wash-out that I ain’t +fa-mil-yer with. By cripes, I sure know it well.” + +“That’s sure fine,” applauded Hashknife, looking up from his bed-roll. +“Anythin’ startling ever happen here?” + +“Now yo’re talkin’,” said Henry. “There sure is. Ain’tcha never heard of +the Black Rider?” + +“Go ahead,” grinned Sleepy. “We’ll bite, Henry.” + +“Aw-w-w-w, it ain’t no joke. Nossir.” Henry shook his head violently. + +“That there Black Rider sure ain’t no joke. He’s a lone rider, that +feller is, and he’s sure he’pin’ himself t’things around this neck of +the timber.” + +“Rustler?” + +“No-o-o, I don’t reckon he’s rustlin’ any; but he’s sure makin’ money +off the stages and banks. Rides a black horse and dresses in black. +Aw-w-w, yuh don’t have t’ believe me; yuh can ask anybody around +here.” + +“Henry Horsecollar, we believe yuh,” grinned Hashknife. “Who do yuh +reckon it is?” + +“’F I knowed I’d sure go after him--mebbe.” + +Henry was not committing himself. + +“Outlawin’ must be a good business around here,” observed Sleepy. + +“While she lasts,” agreed Henry; “but she don’t always last long. Look +at Shell Romaine. He sure grabbed off a lot of money from the bank at +Sula; but they put the deadwood on him, and he’s bustin’ rocks at Deer +Park for five years. His old man owns a little outfit between here and +Moon Flats--off to the right-hand side as yuh go from here. They calls +him ‘Rim-Fire’ Romaine. + +“Bitter? Beside him quinine would taste kinda sickish-sweet. Hates +everybody. Got a few dogey cows and some horses.” + +“What’s he sore about?” asked Hashknife. + +“Eve’ything.” + +Henry spread his hands to indicate the entire universe. + +“Hates eve’ything.” + +“Did they ever get the money back?” asked Sleepy. + +“Git it? ----, no! Shell wouldn’t tell ’em nothin’. It was thirty +thousand dollars. There was three weeks that not a danged cowboy on this +range would work. Nossir; they was all treasure-hunters; but nobody ever +found it.” + +“Did you hunt for it?” + +“Yuh danged well right I did! I was workin’ for the X Bar X outfit +at the time and when I got back I found out I didn’t have no job; so +I beat the Diamond-S outfit over here and got a job from Cal Severn. +Cal was sore as ---- at his own crew.” + +“Good feller to work for?” asked Hashknife. + +“Fine and dandy. He don’t pay much attention; but say--” Henry lowered +his voice--“this ranch ain’t no money-maker. They tell me that old man +Severn was a humdinger, but Cal sure ain’t. ----, he’s a dreamin’ +son-of-a-gun, and yuh can’t run a cow-ranch thataway. He’s hot-headed +sometimes, and he’d fight a circle-saw, but he ain’t got no idea of +business.” + +“He ought to make you the foreman,” said Hashknife. + +“Yeah.” + +Henry shifted his tobacco and spat accurately at a sawdust-filled box +beside the stove. + +“Yeah, that’s what I been thinkin’. I could sure make this a reg’lar +ranch, y’betcha. Mebbe Cal Severn don’t think it takes brains t’ run +a ranch like this, but ’f I had a chance I’d sure show him what a +li’l head-work would do.” + +“What’s yore job around here now?” queried Hashknife. + +“Aw, I kinda work around--keepin’ things tidy-like.” + +Just at that moment, Cal Severn came to the door and looked inside. + +“Henry fix yuh up?” he asked. + +“Yeah,” grinned Hashknife. “We’re all set.” + +“Yuh spoke about goin’ to town,” remarked Severn. “I’m ridin’ down right +away.” + +“And we’ll ride right along with yuh,” nodded Hashknife. + +Cal Severn saddled a horse and the three men rode away, while Henry +Horsecollar stood in the doorway, chewing rapidly. He heartily +approved of the new men. Since they were strangers, he would be able +to talk about many things that the natives would not listen to nor +believe. + +“Quite a character,” observed Hashknife, jerking his head in the +direction of the bunk-house. + +“Henry Horsecollar?” grinned Severn. “Yeah, he sure is. Did he retail +all the range gossip?” + +“Well, he got a runnin’ start,” laughed Hashknife. “Told us about the +Black Rider.” + +Severn laughed. + +“That’s a pet piece of gossip for Henry, and if he talks long enough +about it he’ll tell you who the Black Rider is and where to find him.” + +“Is it Henry’s imagination, or is there a Black Rider?” + +“There is,” declared Severn, “and he’s makin’ things bad for the money +interests. Somebody named him the Black Rider because he wore black +clothes, I reckon.” + +“Got any idea who it might be?” + +Severn shook his head. + +“No, but I wish I did. There’s an aggregate of ten thousand dollars +reward for him--and I could sure use ten thousand dollars right now.” + +“You ain’t got nothin’ on me, pardner,” assured Hashknife. “I never +could count that much, but they could short-change me and never make +me sore.” + + * * * * * + +Shell Romaine stirred the curiosity of Moon Flats, and many were the +conjectures over his appearance; but he made no explanation of why he +was out four years ahead of his sentence. Pat Haley got word of it and +lost no time in meeting Romaine. + +Pat was hard-faced, prone to hew to the line of duty, but with a soft +heart inside his deep chest; and it was with a smile that he approached +Shell Romaine. + +“Shell, me lad, I heard ye was in town.” + +“Hyah, Pat,” grinned Shell. “Howsa jail since I left?” + +They shook hands earnestly, like two old friends meeting after a long +separation. + +“The jail is still intact,” stated Pat, “and little used.” + +“She’s a good strong jail,” admitted Shell, “or I’d ’a’ bored out, +y’betcha. How’s the good wife?” + +“She’s fine, Shell. Did they treat ye right at the big corral?” + +Shell smiled grimly. + +“Did any one ever go there expectin’ good treatment, Pat?” + +“’Tis not the primary object of the thing,” agreed Pat slowly, “and I +suppose that even Moon Flats looks good to ye now, Shell.” + +“Uh-huh,” slowly. + +“Will ye be stayin’ hereabouts?” + +Pat Haley wanted some information, but did not want to come right out +and ask for it. + +“I dunno.” + +Shell shook his head. + +“It all depends, Pat.” + +“I suppose so.” + +Pat fidgeted with his belt-buckle. + +“Have ye been out long, Shell?” + +“Not very long.” + +“Uh-huh. Well, have ye seen the old man yet?” + +“No.” + +“Uh-huh,” thoughtfully. + +Evidently Shell Romaine was not going to explain anything. They stood +together on the edge of the board sidewalk in front of the Élite Café +and considered the street while Cal Severn, Hashknife Hartley and Sleepy +Stevens rode in and tied their horses at the hitch-rack in front of Buck +Franey’s place. + +Haley noticed that there were two new punchers with Severn and also +noted that their horses were branded with the Hashknife brand, which was +a big outfit many miles to the South. Shell Romaine watched Severn until +he disappeared inside Franey’s Place, and then he turned to Haley. + +“How’s Cal Severn gettin’ along these days, Pat?” + +“Fine.” + +Some one called out from across the way, and they turned to see a man +riding swiftly down the street. He jerked his mount to a stop at the +door of the Moon Flats saloon and sprang to the ground. Several men +gathered around him as he talked excitedly, and one of them pointed +across the street in the direction of the sheriff and Romaine. + +“Somethin’ must ’a’ happened,” observed Haley. “There’s Mort Lee. C’m +on.” + +They crossed the street, where the crowd was gathering, and the excited +rider turned to the sheriff. The man was a stranger to Romaine. + +“They got the Black Rider!” he exclaimed. “He tried to stop the Mission +River stage at Medicine Creek, and Jim Searles got him cold.” + +“What do ye know about that?” grunted the sheriff. “Do ye know who he +was, Mort?” + +“Old man Romaine!” + +The sheriff shot a quick glance at Shell Romaine, whose body had +stiffened under the shock of his father’s death. Some one in the crowd +who knew Shell tried to interrupt the speaker, who continued: + +“Doc Maldeen was with Searles when the old man tried to stick ’em +up; but Searles was lookin’ for somethin’ like that, and he started +shootin’. They’ll be here in a little while.” + +The man laughed nervously as he added: + +“I come dang near gettin’ shot m’self. I was ridin’ down the creek +trail and busted right into it after it was all over. Thought I heard +a shot just before that, but the creek makes so much noise and the +twisted cañon kinda cuts off sounds. Searles lined up on me before he +recognized who I was.” + +Nearly all the men in the crowd knew Shell Romaine, and they watched him +curiously as he turned away and went into the Moon Flats saloon. + +“You ---- fool!” + +One of the cowboys grasped the excited informer by the arm. “That feller +is Shell Romaine, the old man’s son!” + +“Well, how’d I know?” he whined. “I never seen him before.” + +Cal Severn, Hashknife and Sleepy had joined the group in time to hear +it all. There were no expressions of satisfaction over the passing of +the Black Rider, although he had been a menace to the country. Both +father and son bore bad reputations, but these grave-faced men around +the sheriff did not comment upon the passing of one nor the appearance +of the other. + +One of the crowd moved over to the doorway of the saloon and peered +inside, coming back in a moment to state softly that Shell Romaine was +at the bar, drinking whisky. + +“I don’t blame him,” stated the sheriff. “I dunno what I’d do in a case +like that, so I don’t.” + +A man came up the sidewalk, surveyed the group for a moment and called +to the sheriff. The man was dressed in “store clothes,” bareheaded and +in his shirt sleeves. He handed a folded yellow paper to the sheriff +and watched him as he read: + + EXPRESS MESSENGER OF OVERLAND FOUND BOUND AND GAGGED WHEN + TRAIN REACHED WHEELOCK THIS MORNING. SAFE BLOWN AND BIG + AMOUNT REPORTED STOLEN. MESSENGER SAYS ROBBER LEFT TRAIN + BETWEEN CLEVIS CREEK AND MOON FLATS. + + (Signed) CLAVERING. + +Sheriff Haley squinted closely at the message as some of the more +inquisitive moved in close to see what it was about. Haley folded up +the message and turned to the crowd. + +“A lone bandit blew the Overland safe this mornin’ and got off between +here and Clevis Creek, accordin’ to this telegram from Clavering, the +marshal at Wheelock.” + +“By ----, this is gittin’ to be a reg’lar country!” exclaimed an old +grizzled cowman. “If it ain’t one thing, it’s two.” + +Haley nodded, and his eyes squinted thoughtfully as he remembered that +Shell Romaine had just reached town. It was only three miles to Clevis +Creek by the road, although it was much farther by rail and over a heavy +grade, where a train barely crawled. + +“If the Black Rider hadn’t been killed they’d blame it on to him,” +declared another. + +“The Overland hits there before daylight,” said another, “and the stage +don’t hit Medicine Creek before eleven o’clock or later--and it’s only +seven miles from Medicine Creek crossin’ to Clevis Creek railroad +bridge.” + +Haley glanced around the crowd, and his eyes stopped at Hashknife, who +was looking at him. Both Hashknife and Sleepy were strangers--and this +was not exactly a nice day for strangers in Moon Flats; not unless they +could furnish a good alibi. + +Several others took notice of Hashknife and Sleepy, but the coming of +the stage precluded any questions. It drew up at the stage-office, and +thither went the crowd. + +Jim Searles, the driver, was a lanky, raw-boned, long-mustached person +with pouchy eyes and red-veined cheeks. Doc Maldeen, the other occupant +of the driver’s seat, was a man of about forty years of age, +black-haired, keen of features and with a long, flowing black mustache. +He was slightly overdressed, and one might expect him momentarily to +produce a stock of cure-alls, made by some famous Indian medicine-man, +and which would cure any and all ills of mankind. + +But Jim Searles was no less the showman in spite of his appearance. +Without visible emotion but feeling that his prowess had been well +advertised by Mort Lee, Searles looked the crowd over coldly, +triumphantly. Then he handed the lines to Maldeen, got slowly down +over the wheel and with a quick motion of his arm jerked the stage +door open. + +Lying on the floor of the stage, half-reclining against a seat, was the +body of old Rim-Fire Romaine. + +“There,” said Searles dramatically, “is yore Black Rider!” + +As Searles’ eyes came back to the crowd he looked straight into the +face of Shell Romaine, the man he had helped send to the penitentiary. +Searles’ eyes widened and he swayed back against the wheel as if trying +to get farther away. + +Shell’s eyes were half-closed as he leaned forward and looked inside +the stage. He had drunk considerable whisky, but was far from being +drunk. The sheriff stepped in beside Searles and motioned for two of +the men to help him remove the body, but Shell shoved one of them +aside and took his place. + +They carried the body into the stage-office and placed it on the floor. +The old man was dressed in an old suit of rusty, badly fitting black +clothes, nondescript shirt, black slouch hat and well-worn, high-heeled +boots. The sheriff, after a cursory examination, stepped back. The old +man had been killed with a buckshot load from a sawed-off shotgun--the +upper part of his body being riddled. + +Shell Romaine still stood beside the body, his shoulders hunched as he +stared down at what had been his father, while the crowd watched him in +silence. Then he lifted his eyes and looked straight at Jim Searles. It +was not a look of anger; rather it appeared that Shell was trying to +read Searles’ innermost thoughts--and Searles turned away. + +“Mind tellin’ us about it, doc?” asked the sheriff of Maldeen. “Mort Lee +told us some of it, but he was kinda excited.” + +“There’s not much to tell,” stated Maldeen. “We came to Medicine Creek, +and Romaine stepped out of the brush just in front of us. He threw up +his hand, trying to stop us, I think--and Searles shot him. + +“He fell back into the brush. I held the team while Jim went over there +and found out that he had killed old man Romaine. As he came back Mort +Lee rode out of the brush and Jim almost shot him. Mort found out what +had happened and then came on in ahead to tell about it.” + +“Had a gun, did he?” queried the sheriff. + +Searles stepped forward and handed him a long-barreled .44 Colt pistol. + +“This here’s his gun, sheriff.” + +The sheriff looked at the gun and dropped it into his pocket as he +said-- + +“It kinda looks like Searles was right; so there won’t be no inquest.” + +“How about that reward, Pat?” asked Searles. + +He had moved in closer to Shell Romaine as he spoke to the sheriff, +and the words had barely left his lips when Shell whirled, stepped +across the body of his father and smashed Searles flush in the mouth +with a terrific right-hand swing. + +Searles went backward almost out of the doorway, where he collapsed, +half-knocked out and spitting broken teeth through his cut lips. Shell +tried to follow up his blow, but Hashknife Hartley blocked him. + +“Take her easy, pardner,” begged Hashknife. “You can’t hurt him any more +until he gets partly over that punch.” + +Shell’s face was white, and his eyes were a mere, dark-colored line, so +tightly were they drawn, but he did not try to force his way past the +tall cowpuncher. Searles crawled to his hands and knees and managed to +get to his feet. + +“I’d druther be kicked by a mule,” observed one of the crowd seriously. +“Jim Searles’ll be eatin’ his meals through Doc Hansen’s stummick-pump, +I’ll betcha.” + +But Searles made no comment. He clapped one hand over his mouth and +staggered outside, without asking further about the reward. That punch +had driven all monetary considerations from his mind. + +Shell Romaine turned to the sheriff. + +“If there ain’t goin’ to be no inquest, can’t I take him home, sheriff?” + +His voice was pitched low, and his sudden flash of resentment had passed +now. + +“There ain’t nothin’ yuh want of him--now, is there?” + +Pat Haley did not know just what to say. He looked at Shell and around +at the crowd as if seeking guidance in this matter. Then he said: + +“Well, I dunno, Shell. Why don’t ye let us bury him all regular-like +and----” + +“Knowin’ that he was an outlaw, Pat? What does Moon Flats care about old +man Romaine? My God, he was the only person on earth who cared for me! +Me and him were a lot alike, sheriff; carin’ for each other--kinda; and +if it ain’t against the law I’d like to take him--home.” + +Shell turned his head and looked down at the body, while Pat Haley bit +his lower lip and had trouble adjusting his cartridge-belt. It was +annoying him greatly; and several moments elapsed before he looked at +Shell Romaine. + +“Shell--ahem-m-m--it may be irregular as ----, but there ain’t any of us +too regular. You go right ahead, will ye?” + +“Thanks, Pat. I suppose I can hire a team and a wagon.” + +“Yuh can borry mine,” stated the man who had declared that Searles was +due to take nourishment through a stomach-pump. “It’s over in front of +the store.” + +“Thanks,” nodded Shell, and walked out past the crowd. + +Severn, Hashknife and Sleepy walked outside to the edge of the sidewalk, +where they were joined in a moment by the sheriff, who looked curiously +at Hashknife and Sleepy. + +“Do yuh think that Romaine was the Black Rider, Pat?” asked Severn. + +The sheriff spat dryly and looked at Hashknife. + +“We’re strangers,” explained Hashknife, “and I know how yuh feel, +sheriff. I’m Hashknife Hartley and my pardner’s name is Stevens.” + +Names meant nothing to Pat Haley, and he merely nodded. + +Hashknife produced the same paper he had shown to Cal Severn and handed +it to the sheriff, who perused it slowly, pursing his lips over the +words. Finally he folded it carefully and handed it back to Hashknife. + +“Ah-ha-a-a!” he grunted. “So that’s it, eh?” + +“Kinda looks thataway,” smiled Hashknife. + +“Well, I wish ye luck.” + +Shell Romaine drove up and crowded the team close to the edge of the +sidewalk, while four men brought out the body and placed it in the +wagon-box. And without a word to any one Shell Romaine kicked off the +brake and drove slowly down the street--going home. + +“May the ---- fly away wid me!” muttered Pat Haley. “I may be violatin’ +the law and me own duty in doin’ this thing, but I’ve somethin’ inside +of me besides liver and lights, so I have.” + +“Do yuh think that Shell Romaine had anythin’ to do with the Overland +robbery?” asked Severn. + +Pat Haley bit off a generous chew of tobacco and hitched up his +cartridge-belt. + +“Ye’ll never find out by askin’ me today, and if ye asked Shell--he’d +likely lie about it.” + +Hashknife grinned in appreciation of the answer, but Cal Severn turned +on his heel and walked away. + + “The Spanish cavalee-e-e-er stood in his retreat and on + his guit-ar-r-r-r played a tune, de-e-e-ear.” + +Henry Horsecollar’s voice, if it might be called a voice, wailed +dismally as he stood, razor in hand, and surveyed his half-shaven +features in the dingy bunk-house mirror. + +Hashknife Hartley sat up in his blankets and blinked sleepily at Henry, +after which he reached down and picked up one of his boots. Henry +twisted his face sidewise so as to afford a medium smooth surface for +the dull razor, and from that cramped facial angle continued-- + + “The mu-u-u-usic so-o-o-o swee-e-e-t----” + +_Blam!_ The boot crashed into the wall beside the mirror and drove all +the music from Henry’s soul. He turned and glared at Hashknife. + +“Ex-cuse me,” apologized Hashknife seriously. + +“Why for did yuh throw the boot at me?” demanded Henry. + +“Honest to gosh, I thought yuh was sufferin’,” declared Hashknife, “and +I can’t bear to see sufferin’.” + +Sleepy kicked himself loose from his blankets and sat up. + +“This is Sunday, don’tcha know it?” queried Henry. + +“And you woke us up this early!” growled Sleepy. “What kind of a ranch +is this anyway? Does everybody get up early and go to church?” + +“I betcha Henry Horsecollar has got a sweetheart,” grinned Hashknife, +and Henry’s ears got very red. + +He turned and washed his face violently in cold water, while Hashknife +and Sleepy winked at each other and began dressing. + +“What does the boss do on Sunday?” queried Hashknife. + +“Goes to see his girl,” replied Henry. + +“This must be a reg’lar Romeo ranch,” laughed Sleepy. “We’ll have to +fall in love with somebody, Hashknife.” + +Henry wiped his face and sat down on the edge of his bunk. His face was +badly cross-hatched from the dull razor, but shone from much scrubbing +with soap--that is, the part which had been scrubbed. Henry was a lot +like the average small boy, who never washes farther back than a line +drawn from temple to angle of jaw-bone. + +“Who is Cal Severn’s girl?” asked Hashknife. + +“Mary O’Hara.” + +“Swede?” queried Sleepy. + +“I dunno. She’s Pat Haley’s niece, that’s all I know.” + +“Visitin’ here?” + +Hashknife seemed anxious for information. + +“No, I don’t reckon you’d call it that. She’s been with Pat and his wife +for a couple of years!” + +“Pretty girl?” + +Henry Horsecollar scratched his chin and seemed to take the question +under advisement. + +“Well, she ain’t my idea of beauty. I never did care for yallerish-red +hair and blue eyes; and I betcha she powders, ’cause no danged human +female has got skin as white as her skin is, and--Well, I ain’t sayin’ +she ain’t pretty, but to my way of thinkin’, she ain’t.” + +“Young?” + +“Yuh can’t tell--with all that powder; but mebbe she ain’t more ’n +twenty-one. I reckon she’s a nice girl, but if she wasn’t, Henry H. +Dryden would be the last one to hold it ag’in’ her.” + +“Yo’re sure broad-minded, Henry,” applauded Hashknife. “Did yuh know +Shell Romaine?” + +“Dang right!” + +Henry grew thoughtful. + +“I wonder why they turned him loose and what he’s goin’ to do. I had a +hunch that Rim-Fire Romaine was the Black Rider. I kinda git hunches, +don’tcha know it?” + +“You look like yuh might,” agreed Sleepy meaningly. + +“It don’t look right t’ me for a man t’ take his own father home and +bury him.” + +Henry shook his head. + +“Things like that ought t’ be all fixed up by a preacher.” + +“Do yuh think that it makes any difference to God Almighty?” asked +Hashknife. + +“Well, if yo’re goin’ that deep into the matter, I’ll pass. The old man +was a tough old pelican; hated ---- out of everybody, ’specially after +Shell got sent to the pen.” + +“Shell is a hard man to whip, ain’t he?” asked Sleepy. + +“Yo’re danged well right he is!” + +Henry laughed and caressed his scratched chin. + +“He licked Cal Severn, and when yuh lick Cal yo’re some scrapper.” + +“What did they fight over?” + +Hashknife grew serious. + +“I dunno. That was over a year ago, and I don’t reckon I ever knowed +what started it. Anyway they curried each other right on the main +street of Moon Flats, and Shell jist knocked ---- out of Cal. They +both had guns on ’em, but neither one offered to do any shootin’.” + +“Probably just a friendly fight,” observed Hashknife. “Let’s see if the +cook’s got anythin’ to eat.” + +A middle-aged half-breed woman was doing the cooking. Henry Horsecollar +called her “Mrs. Wicks,” and then talked to her in the Nez Percé tongue, +which they both spoke fluently. Henry scowled over some information and +shot questions at the woman, who only repeated her statement. + +“I’m goin’ to git me a new job!” declared Henry heatedly. “By gosh, +I’m tired of bein’ bossed allatime. Sunday is supposed t’ be a day of +rest, and here the boss goes an’ passes me an order t’ stay here at +the ranch.” + +“Can’t yuh rest here?” asked Sleepy. + +“Rest, ----!” exploded Henry. “There ain’t no reason for it, by gosh!” + +He turned and spoke to Mrs. Wicks, who repeated her former statement. +Henry sighed-- + +“I don’t reckon she’s mistaken, ’cause she’s told me the same darned +thing three times hand-runnin’.” + +After breakfast Hashknife and Sleepy saddled their horses, while Henry +Horsecollar looked on disconsolate. He wanted to go and see his girl, +but a job meant a lot to Henry and he did not want to displease Cal +Severn. + +Hashknife and Sleepy rode toward Moon Flats, twisting in and out of +the low hills to a rickety old bridge which spanned the swift-running +Mission River. Beyond this the road skirted the hills. There were a +few cattle in evidence, but the better feed was farther back in the +range. + +“What do yuh think of this layout?” queried Sleepy. + +“I dunno,” grunted Hashknife. “’Pears like we’ve run into somethin’, +Sleepy.” + +Hashknife drew rein near the mouth of a gulch, up which was an old road, +showing little travel. + +“I wonder if this is the road that leads to Romaine’s ranch.” + +“Kinda looks like she might be,” agreed Sleepy, and they turned and +rode up the side of the hill, ignoring the road, which angled up the +gentle slope of the dry cañon. + +A mile farther on they cut back to the rim of the cañon and stopped +in a clump of jackpines. Below them in the bottom of the gulch was a +tumble-down shanty and barn. Behind this was a rickety old corral. An +old roan horse browsed around the corral, and a few chickens roamed +around the dusty yard. + +There did not seem to be any sign of life about the place. Suddenly +their attention was arrested by a flash of color farther up the cañon, +where a large clump of cottonwoods grew around a spring. A man and a +woman were standing there close together, but at that distance it was +impossible to identify them. There was a saddle-horse tied to a tree, +but the shadows hid its color. + +“I reckon this ain’t the place we’re lookin’ for,” observed Hashknife, +“but we’ll ride down and kinda find out whose place she is, Sleepy.” + +“Might as well,” agreed Sleepy, and they rode straight down the side of +the hill to the flat below. + +Half a dozen mongrel dogs came out of the house at their approach, and +each one tried to outdo the other in dog language. + +As they rode up to the door a disheveled-looking character came on to +the porch and stared at them. The man was a half-breed, bleary of eye +and slovenly dressed. He was without boots, and his socks were half +off his feet. + +Several loose rocks were on the porch, and one of these he hurled at +the barking dogs, sending them ki-yiing away. Then he drew himself up +in mock dignity and said-- + +“What in ---- you want here?” + +“What yuh got?” asked Hashknife seriously. + +“Ugh!” + +The man leaned against a post and put one foot on top of the other, +while he wiped his lips with a none too clean hand. + +“This yore ranch?” asked Hashknife. + +“Yeah--my ranch; yo’ ---- right!” + +“What’s yore name?” + +“Me Joe Wicks, by ----!” + +“Must be the lovin’ husband of the cook,” grinned Sleepy. “No wonder she +hires out.” + +Joe Wicks bobbed his head drunkenly and reached for another rock; but +the dogs knew what was coming and fled down toward the barn, where they +proceeded to pull off a free-for-all fight. + +“How far is it to the Romaine ranch?” asked Hashknife. + +Joe Wicks considered this a while, slobbering just a trifle and keeping +one eye on a spotted dog, which was coming toward the porch, but on an +angle which would take it just beyond the corner. + +A moment later came the slither of gravel, and Joe hurled his rock at +the corner just in time to hit a girl who was turning toward the porch. +Without a sound she crumpled up, while the dog, which had gone up to +meet her, went yapping back toward the fighting crew at the barn. + +“My Gawd!” gasped Hashknife, sliding out of his saddle and almost +colliding with Sleepy. + +They picked the girl up and placed her on the porch. The rock had hit +her on the head, but too high up to do her any permanent injury. + +Joe Wicks looked drunkenly on as Hashknife parted her hair and examined +the bruise. She was dressed in a plain calico dress, badly made, and was +undeniably part Indian, but her features were pretty. She was not over +eighteen and had not begun to acquire the shapeless figure which her +kind are heir to after the bloom of youth has faded. + +After a minute her eyes opened and she looked around. + +“Got eyes like a young doe,” grunted Sleepy, and blushed to think that +he had spoken his thoughts. + +“What was it?” she asked softly. + +“You got hit with a rock,” explained Hashknife. “Better lay still for a +few minutes.” + +Her hand went up to her head, and she felt tenderly of the bruise. +Hashknife pointed at Joe Wicks and said-- + +“He throwed a rock at the dog and you walked into it.” + +“---- dogs!” grunted Joe. “Too ---- much dogs!” + +She sat up, blinked her eyes dizzily for a moment and got to her feet +with Hashknife’s assistance. + +“Thank you,” she said with that peculiar, half-hiss of an Indian +speaking a strange tongue, and went into the house without speaking +to Joe Wicks. + +“My girl,” said Joe. “Marie Wicks, by ----!” + +“Your daughter?” asked Sleepy. + +“Yeah--my papoose; yo’ ---- right!” + +Hashknife considered Joe, and his mind flashed back to the squat +figure of Mrs. Wicks. Marie was pretty, graceful; but still she was +the offspring of these two. Joe’s socks bothered him considerably; so +he yanked them off and threw them aside. + +“Yo’ have drink whisky?” he grunted. + +“Where did you get whisky?” demanded Hashknife quickly. + +Joe licked his lips and his eyes narrowed, but he did not say. Hashknife +knew it was of no use to ask an Indian where he got liquor; so he did +not repeat his question. + +“Let’s go,” suggested Hashknife, getting back into his saddle. “We’ll +cut across the hills toward town, and we’ll likely find the Romaine +ranch.” + +Sleepy mounted, and they started toward the opposite side of the cañon. +Joe Wicks watched them through narrowed eyes, and called after them-- + +“Yo’ go to ----!” + +Hashknife nodded as if accepting good advice, while Joe Wicks spat dryly +and went into the house. + +“Can yuh ’magine that girl bein’ a daughter of them two? Can yuh?” + +Sleepy’s questions were explosive. + +“Well,” laughed Hashknife, “she sure don’t take after her folks, +Sleepy.” + +They rode on across the sage-covered hills, angling back toward the +road, riding silently; both men thinking deeply. Their course led down +the sharp side of a hill and on to a flat, where they passed a heavy +growth of timber and drew up at an old rail fence which enclosed a +ranch-house, little better kept than that belonging to Joe Wicks. + +There was no human being in sight, and an air of lonesomeness seemed to +pervade the old place. The roofs of the house and barn were sway-backed +from age and neglect, and everything seemed neglected, forgotten. + +Hashknife opened a broken-hinged gate, and they rode up to the house. +The door was closed and locked with a heavy padlock. Just out in the +yard was a fresh mound of dirt; mute evidence that Shell Romaine had +buried his own father. + +Hashknife shook his head sadly. + +“Dang it all, yuh got to feel sorry for Romaine. Mebbe he ain’t no +good--I dunno.” + +“He’s got guts anyway,” declared Sleepy. “He didn’t lay down and wail +about it, Hashknife.” + +“No,” agreed Hashknife; “he sure didn’t; and I like the way he pasted +the stage-driver. Man, he sure can hit. Well, I don’t reckon there’s +any use foolin’ around here.” + +They turned and rode out of the yard, heading down the road, which +would connect with the main highway to Moon Flats. Just at the edge of +the clearing, where the road twisted between a tall outcropping of +granite and a big clump of brush, Hashknife suddenly jerked sidewise +in his saddle, almost falling across his horse’s neck; while from back +somewhere near the house came the sharp snap of a high-power rifle. + +With a sharp slash of his spurs Sleepy whirled his horse sidewise, +throwing Hashknife’s mount off the road and into the brush, where both +horses raced ahead several jumps before Sleepy stopped them. Hashknife +was humped in the saddle, apparently badly jarred. Sleepy slid to the +ground and went to Hashknife’s assistance, but the tall cowboy had +already dismounted and was fumbling with his holster. + +“Where did it git yuh?” asked Sleepy anxiously. + +“Take a look,” grunted Hashknife, turning his back to Sleepy. + +The bullet had torn Hashknife’s shirt from the center of his back to a +point high up on the shoulder, cutting an ugly gash but not going deep +enough for any permanent injury. + +Sleepy started to examine it more closely; but another bullet struck a +sapling just behind them, and they both dropped low in the brush. + +“Kinda jagged me, didn’t it?” asked Hashknife. + +“Cultivated yore shoulder,” grunted Sleepy. “If that danged fool don’t +quit he’ll hit a horse.” + +“Yeah--if he don’t quit he’ll grab a harp,” gritted Hashknife, flexing +his right arm. + +Another bullet flipped above them, sending a shower of leaves down upon +their sombrero hats, but they were so low that the shooter could not see +them now, and he was evidently shooting by guess. + +“Wish we had a Winchester,” grumbled Hashknife. “Can’t do much with a +six-shooter at this range, but I can sure make one awful stab at it.” + +“Aw-w-w, look at them ---- horses!” wailed Sleepy. + +The two horses had left the brush and were working out into the open. +One of them had the reins looped around its foot and was moving along +head down, when the rifle cracked again, and the horse pitched headlong, +kicked wildly and lay still. + +Sleepy sprang to his feet, but Hashknife yanked him down. + +“Stay down, yuh danged fool! Don’tcha know he was tryin’ to hoodle yuh +into starting somethin’?” + +The rifle cracked again, and the other horse floundered back into the +brush, ran a few jumps and crashed down. + +“Well,” said Hashknife slowly, “we’re due to walk now.” + +“I reckon we better be glad that we’re able to walk,” observed Sleepy. +“That jasper is a good shot, and you just happened to turn far enough +to miss bein’ hit plumb center. Hurtin’ yuh much?” + +“Not half as much as my feet will before we get to town, Sleepy. My +boots are kinda tight.” + +“Danged dude,” sarcastically. “Tryin’ to pinch a pair of number tens +into nines. Next thing I know you’ll be usin’ cornstarch on yore nose +to take off the shine.” + +“Well,” mournfully, “I’ll still be yore little friend. No matter what +happens, I won’t turn yuh down because yuh ain’t got no sense, Sleepy.” + +Sleepy grunted explosively and peered through the brush. There was no +sign of the shooter. A magpie, dipping and sailing across the clearing, +twisted sharply and came to rest on the apex of the ranch-house roof. A +minute later another of the same species came in from the opposite +direction and perched near the first one, where they both chattered +volubly, arguing in almost human voices. + +“Either that bushwhacker is danged well hid or he’s pulled out,” +declared Hashknife. “Them magpies ain’t even cautious, and yuh can’t +hardly fool a magpie.” + +Cautiously they crawled toward the edge of the clearing, taking plenty +of time and watching closely. An exposed sombrero failed to draw a +shot. Hashknife snaked himself in behind a cottonwood bole and assumed +an upright position. The sharp eyes of the magpies discovered him, and +they flitted swiftly away, calling a warning to all of their kind. + +Hashknife gripped his gun, flung himself away from the tree and ran +to the dead horse, where he dropped flat on the ground. Still there +was no shot to break the stillness. He sat up, taking a long chance, +but no shot came. + +Sleepy walked over, and they examined the horses, both of which had been +almost instantly killed. They stripped off the saddles and bridles and +hung them up in a tree. Neither of the men complained nor swore dire +revenge upon the man who had deprived them of their mounts. + +“That there roan was a danged good horse,” declared Sleepy. + +“Such as he was,” admitted Hashknife; “but he didn’t noways compare with +my gray hawse.” + +“Both of ’em bein’ dead, it sure makes a fifty-fifty argument,” grinned +Sleepy. “That little roan bronc was all horse. Fifty miles a day----” + +“Yuh mean, a week,” interrupted Hashknife. + +“Lemme finish, won’t yuh? Jumpin’ at conclusions thataway, Hashknife, +makes me weary of yore company. I was goin’ to say that fifty miles a +day would kill that roan--dead. Want me to doctor that shoulder?” + +“Naw. It kinda burns a little, and it’s sore as ----; but yore kind of +doctorin’ wouldn’t help it none. Let’s go to Moon Flats. Can’t be more +than a couple of miles.” + +Sleepy nodded. + +“All right, cowboy. I hope they don’t cuss us nor shoot at us down +there. I never did see such a ---- uncivilized country in my life. Who +do yuh reckon shot at us?” + +Hashknife shook his head. + +“I dunno. Likely mistook us for some one else and pulled out as soon as +they found out their mistake.” + +Sleepy shook his head and squinted at Hashknife. + +“Now, you don’t even start to think thataway. They’d ’a’ found that out +before they shot our horses, wouldn’t they? They never got a look at us +after that.” + +“Mebbe they got scared and shot the horses to keep us from followin’ +’em, Sleepy.” + +“All right, all right. Mebbe this and mebby that, and all the time----” + +“We’re delayin’ the blisters on our heels,” finished Hashknife. “C’mon, +old pessimist.” + +And they started off down the road, walking with the stiff-legged +gait of a cowboy whose boots are high-heeled and altogether too +tight; walking with elbows bent and hardly swaying from the head to +the waist. + +Just before they reached the forks of the road a rider swung on to +Romaine’s road and eyed them curiously. It was Mort Lee, the cowboy +who had brought news of the Romaine killing to Moon Flats. Hashknife +grinned at him, and after a moment Mort Lee grinned widely. + +“Takin’ our daily exercise,” stated Hashknife seriously. + +“Yeah?” + +Mort Lee did not seem convinced. + +“Keeps a feller in good shape,” added Sleepy, shaking the perspiration +off his nose. + +“I betcha,” agreed Mort, and added, “’Specially in ridin’-boots.” + +“That fit tight,” added Hashknife painfully. + +Mort Lee nodded, and his eyes invited explanations which did not come. +Finally he said-- + +“Been up to Romaine’s place?” + +“Uh-huh.” + +“Shell at home?” + +“I dunno,” said Hashknife. “We didn’t see him.” + +“Oh.” + +Mort Lee pursed his lips and squinted at the sun. + +“We-e-ell, I reckon I’ll be moseyin’ on, gents. Yuh won’t find the main +road much better walkin’ than this.” + +He spurred his horse and went away in a whirl of dust. + +“If they don’t cuss yuh or shoot at yuh, they hang crape,” complained +Sleepy. “---- such a country!” + +“Country’s all right,” argued Hashknife. “It’s the folks in it that make +it bad. These people need purifyin’--that’s all it needs, Sleepy.” + +“That’s all ---- needs,” retorted Sleepy sadly. + + * * * * * + +About the time that Hashknife and Sleepy reached the main road, a crowd +of men gathered around a poker table in the Moon Flats gambling house. +Cal Severn had challenged Doc Maldeen to a single-handed game of stud +poker. Severn seldom played poker, but when he did it was for big money, +and the men around the table grinned in anticipation of large stakes. + +There was no money in sight, Severn merely requesting five thousand +dollars worth of chips. The cowboys around the table gasped audibly. +Five thousand dollars! But Maldeen did not even blink as he slid five +stacks of white chips across the table to Severn. + +“Hundred dollar chips big enough?” he asked casually, and Severn nodded +as he stacked them up in two piles of twenty-five chips each. + +They cut for deal, and Maldeen won. Both men shoved in an ante of two +hundred dollars after getting their hole-card. Then Severn drew an ace +and Maldeen a seven spot. Severn bet two hundred and Maldeen stayed. The +third card around showed another ace for Severn and a king for Maldeen. + +This time Severn bet two hundred, and, after calm consideration, Maldeen +tossed in seven chips. + +“Tiltin’ it five hundred, eh?” Severn half-smiled, as he called the +raise. + +The fourth card showed a jack for Severn and another king for Maldeen. +Severn studied Maldeen’s cards. He had Maldeen beaten in sight, but the +five hundred dollar raise made it appear that Maldeen had a king buried. +Severn passed the bet and Maldeen shoved in five chips. Severn fingered +his chips for quite a while, but finally tossed five into the pot. + +Maldeen dealt slowly, placing the next card carefully beside Severn’s +hand. It was another jack. This gave Severn aces and jacks in sight. +Maldeen flipped over his own card--another king. Three kings against +two pair--in sight. It was Maldeen’s first “say” in the pot, and he +quickly estimated Severn’s chips before shoving ten chips into the +center. + +Severn seemed to hesitate. He was beaten in sight, and Maldeen held a +hard hand to bluff. Severn was already in eleven hundred dollars. Then +he slowly picked up the rest of his chips and slid them to the center. +Maldeen smiled and shook his head. + +“Cal, that’s cold-blooded poker, but I feel that yo’re out on a limb.” + +He swiftly counted out his chips and slid them to the center, and his +pile totaled one more chip than what Cal Severn had bet. + +“Raisin’ a hundred?” queried Severn softly. + +“Thassall,” smiled Maldeen. + +Severn hesitated for a moment and cleared his throat. + +“Give me five thousand more, doc.” + +Maldeen seemed about to refuse, but counted out the required amount. +Severn was good for that amount, just on the strength of the Diamond-S +ranch. He did not stack his chips this time, but shoved them all to the +center. + +“Boostin’ it forty-nine hundred,” he stated. + +A gasp went up from dry throats around the table. It was the largest bet +they had ever seen made. Maldeen studied Severn’s cards as if seeking to +discover whether Severn was bluffing or had filled his hand. He squinted +at Severn’s face, but the young cattleman was slowly puffing on his +cigaret and looking at the fortune in the center of the table. + +“I call,” said Maldeen, tossing in his chips. Severn flipped over his +hole-card--an ace. “Ace full!” gasped a cowboy, almost overcome from +the suspense. + +Maldeen smiled grimly and turned his card. It was another seven. + +“King full!” exploded another cowboy. “Two full houses!” + +For a few moments Cal Severn did not say anything. He shoved the chips +across to Maldeen and leaned back in his chair. + +“The god of luck was with me, doc; I’m through.” + +Maldeen got slowly to his feet and went back to his private room, where +he kept a small safe. In a few moments he came back with ten thousand +dollars in gold and currency. After he had counted it out he turned to +the crowd and said-- + +“The house buys a drink, gents.” + +And the “gents” took their drink, gulping it down wolfishly, as if +seeking solace from the reaction of that big bet. + +“Never saw nothin’ like it before,” declared a cowboy earnestly. “That’s +goin’ to spoil me for any of this four-bits-a-stack game. I used to git +a thrill out of a five-dollar bet, but--Forty-nine hundred--whoo-o-ee!” + +Severn laughed softly and leaned on the bar. + +“That ten thousand will kinda help to pay up some of my debts, doc.” + +Maldeen grimaced. + +“It won’t help mine, Cal. That’s a hard jolt for the old Moon Flats, if +anybody asks yuh.” + +Severn shrugged his shoulders. + +“You dealt ’em to me, doc.” + +“I’m a ---- of a dealer,” admitted Maldeen, and the crowd laughed +boisterously. + +They appreciated a good loser, and Maldeen was not kicking. + + * * * * * + +And that same morning Mary O’Hara met Shell Romaine in the hills; +but the meeting was not planned. Mary rode the hills nearly every +day astride a wiry little sorrel horse, riding as recklessly as any +cowboy; but today she was not in the mood for a wild gallop, and was +poking slowly along a narrow trail when her horse suddenly stopped, +and she looked up at Shell Romaine, whose horse blocked the trail. + +For several moments they looked at each other, and then Shell swung +his horse on to the down-hill side, giving her plenty of room to +pass. He had removed his hat, but did not speak. He had changed from +the dilapidated suit of the day before, and was now wearing a black +sombrero, faded blue shirt and bat-winged, silver-trimmed chaps. +Around his neck was a scarlet silk muffler, while around his waist +was a wide, silver-trimmed cartridge-belt, and swinging low on his +thigh was a holstered pistol. + +“Why don’t you speak to me?” asked Mary O’Hara. + +Shell looked closely at her and dropped his eyes to the pommel of his +saddle, where the palm of his right hand was tightly clenched. + +“I didn’t reckon you’d care to have me,” he replied. + +“Did you make that up out of your own head, Shell?” + +“Well--” Shell lifted his head defiantly--“I don’t know why yuh should +want to speak to me.” + +Mary sighed and examined her well-worn gauntlets. + +“Nobody wants to speak to a horse-thief, bank-robber, killer,” he +continued; but there was no bitterness in his voice. “I reckon everybody +knows that my old man was the Black Rider.” + +“Shell, I’m sorry--for--you. It is hard luck, but----” + +“I don’t want sympathy,” interrupted Shell, “and I’m not blamin’ luck +for what happened. I reckon I’ll try to sell out the old place and +leave the Mission country. It was hard to make a livin’--before; it’ll +be impossible now.” + +Mary nodded slowly. Shell twisted in his saddle and wiped his forehead +with his sleeve. + +“Mary, I want to tell yuh somethin’ and ask yuh to forgive me for doin’ +it--if yuh can.” + +“If I can?” + +“Yeah. Before that bank robbery--” Shell paused a moment--“mebbe it +was a week or so before that, I got drunk in Moon Flats, and I got to +braggin’ to some of the boys. You was crossin’ the street and I told +them that me and you was engaged to marry.” + +Mary looked curiously at him and shook her head. + +“No one ever told me that, Shell.” + +“Well, I said it, Mary. I dunno why I lied like that, but I did, and I’m +glad it never came to you.” + +Suddenly Mary smiled. + +“Shell, it did, too; but not that you had said it. Quite a while after +you went away Cal Severn asked me if I was engaged to you. I told him +I was not, and he laughed it off. I did not ask him where he got the +idea.” + +“I reckon some of the boys told him,” said Shell slowly; and then, “Are +you goin’ to marry Cal Severn, Mary O’Hara?” + +Mary flushed and reached down to pat the shoulder of her horse, but did +not reply. + +“I wish yuh a lot of luck,” said Shell. “A lot of luck.” + +Mary lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears. + +“Shell, I must tell you something. You heard that the Overland was +robbed yesterday morning between Moon Flats and Clevis Creek bridge, +didn’t you?” + +Shell nodded his head. + +“Uncle Pat was notified yesterday morning. It was done by a lone +robber, who tied up the messenger and blew the safe. There was a lot +of money taken. The messenger was discovered at Wheelock, and he was +unable to give a good description of the robber, but said he was +dressed in dark-colored clothes.” + +Shell turned his head and stared off across the purple sage, his mind +working fast. He had been on that train. + +“Did Pat find any clews, Mary?” he asked. + +“No. But, Shell, they want to know where you were at that time, don’t +you see? Some say it was done by the Black Rider, but others point out +the fact that you came into town early. Newt Bowie and Monte Barnes say +that you were in Moon Flats at daylight.” + +Shell smiled bitterly. + +“Is there a warrant out for me?” + +“Uncle Pat did not say, but I know he has worried a lot about it, +Shell.” + +“Has he? I suppose I ought to go to town and prove that I had nothin’ +to do with it, or give myself up to the law; but one I can’t do and the +other--I’ve had a taste of, Mary. Oh, I know what the Mission range +thinks of me, and I know how much chance I’d have in their courts. I’m +already convicted, in their minds.” + +Mary nodded. She knew that Shell’s past reputation was all against +him, and she knew that many folks in Moon Flats had already declared +that Shell Romaine had robbed the train. Hadn’t he been convicted of +robbery before? Hadn’t his own father been the Black Rider and got +killed in the act of holding up a stage? + +“Couldn’t you prove your innocence, Shell?” asked Mary. + +“Prove nothin’!” bitterly. “What proof could a paroled convict bring to +a court of law?” + +“Paroled?” + +“Yeah--paroled, Mary. I’m not free--not in the right way. I’ve got to +report to the sheriff every so often, and any old time I even look +cross-eyed--back I go to the pen.” + +“Will you report to Uncle Pat?” + +“No!” + +Shell gathered up his reins and settled himself in his saddle. + +“I’m an outlaw. I haven’t got a chance in the world to prove anythin’, +and I’m not goin’ back to the penitentiary. If they got me for this +robbery I’d go in for twenty years, don’tcha know it? + +“They’re all primed to get me, I reckon. I ain’t got a friend left--if I +ever did have any; and from now on I’m goin’ to get the game as well as +the fame. You tell Pat Haley, will yuh, Mary? Tell him he can declare +open season on the last of the Romaines. I like Old Pat, and the Lord +never made a better woman than ‘Ma’ Haley. I don’t want to harm them, +but you tell Pat that I’m not comin’ in--not on my own feet.” + +Shell turned his horse down the hill, riding straight down the steep +slope to the bottom, where he swung around on to a hog-backed ridge +and disappeared in the timber. + +For several minutes after Shell had disappeared, Mary continued to watch +after him. He had wished her lots of luck in her marriage to Cal Severn. +She had liked Shell Romaine, but had never thought seriously about him. +He was a wild sort of person, willing to fight at the drop of a hat--and +drop it himself--while Cal Severn was more settled, substantial. + +She turned her horse and rode slowly back toward town, secretly glad +that Shell Romaine was not going to give himself up to the law. She +knew that it would be Pat Haley’s duty either to arrest or kill him; +knew that the men of the Mission River ranges would comb the hills +for him. Turning outlaw would be proof conclusive that he was guilty, +but for some reason Mary was glad that Shell Romaine was no quitter. + + * * * * * + +Hashknife and Sleepy came into Moon Flats tired, dusty and limping from +sore feet. They headed for the horse-trough beside the livery stable, +where they took off their boots and immersed their aching feet in the +water. + +“---- hath no fury like a busted blister,” declared Sleepy, wiggling his +cramped toes. “I wish I had the power to bring a curse upon the man who +slew our chargers.” + +“Go ahead,” groaned Hashknife, “and I’ll do my dangdest to make it come +true. The man that made my boots never knowed that a human bein’ had +more’n one toe.” + +“You will be a dude,” observed Sleepy. “Bend yore feet all out of shape +to make ’em look dainty.” + +Sleepy looked up and shoved his bare foot against Hashknife’s ankle. Cal +Severn was coming down toward them, leading his horse. + +“What’s the idea of the foot-bath?” he asked as he came up to them. + +“Gettin’ sanitary,” grinned Hashknife, reaching for his cigaret-makings. +“Washin’ feet helps clear yore mind.” + +“Thasso?” + +Cal Severn seemed amused. + +“And what is the real reason?” + +“Hot feet,” grunted Hashknife, and then proceeded to tell Severn what +had happened to them. + +“You ain’t kiddin’ me, are yuh?” he asked when Hashknife finished. + +“Go and look in Romaine’s front yard and you’ll find two perfectly good +dead horses,” declared Hashknife. + +Severn shook his head. + +“No, I’ll take yore word for it and keep away from Romaine’s place.” + +“Scared of him?” queried Hashknife, lighting his smoke. + +Severn grinned. + +“If yuh want to look at it that way. I don’t care to be shot at, +Hartley. But--” Severn grew more serious--“why should Shell Romaine +shoot at you two?” + +“Who in ---- said he shot at us?” demanded Hashknife. + +“Well, you--uh-- Didn’t you just tell me----” + +“I said we was shot at,” corrected Hashknife. + +“I getcha. But who would shoot at you? You are strangers around here. +Maybe it was a mistake.” + +“I dunno about that.” + +Hashknife proceeded to pull on his socks carefully. + +“Anyway--” looking up with a grin--“we know ---- well that we wasn’t +welcome around there.” + +“Kinda looks that way,” admitted Severn seriously, and then, “Get a +couple of horses from the stable to ride out to the ranch today.” + +Severn started to lead his horse into the stable, but turned. + +“I reckon I can fix up some saddles for yuh out at the ranch.” + +“Ne’ mind,” said Hashknife. “We’ll go out tomorrow and get our own +rigs.” + +“Out to Romaine’s?” + +“Perzactly!” grunted Hashknife, kicking a boot-heel against the trough, +trying to drive his swollen foot into close quarters. + +Severn nodded and led his horse inside. + +“I wonder what kinda whippoorwills he thought we are?” queried Sleepy. +“Think we’d give up them there good saddles?” + +“Didn’t know he had hired two brave men,” grinned Hashknife, but +grimaced with pain as he took a step. “---- it! I thought my shoulder +was sore, but these two feet of mine ain’t feet a-tall; they’re ---- in +a pinch.” + +Hobbling along, they headed for the Moon Flats saloon, where several +cowboys, including Monte Barnes, were standing on the porch. The cowboys +looked curiously at them, but said nothing. + +“I’ll buy a drink,” announced Hashknife. “I bet my pardner the drinks +that I could beat him to town from the Diamond-S, but I calculated +wrong; so I’ll buy a drink for everybody.” + +“Walk?” gasped Monte. + +“Not all the way,” said Hashknife, standing on one foot. “Part of the +way we ran. C’m on in.” + +They all went inside and lined up at the bar. Maldeen was not there, and +the conversation turned to the poker game, which had been played a short +time before. + +“Severn won ten thousand dollars in one hand,” explained Barnes. “Game +of stud. Both men filled. Never seen anythin’ like it in my life.” + +“Prob’ly won’t never ag’in,” declared another. + +Hashknife squinted at his drink and looked around the room. Finally he +turned to Barnes. + +“Ten thousand is a lot of money.” + +“More ’n I ever seen before,” declared Barnes. “It’s plumb easy to speak +about it, but when yuh see it all on the table--whoo-o-o-ee!” + +“And Maldeen done the dealin’,” added another. “He sure deals a straight +game.” + +“Severn must be a plunger,” observed Sleepy. + +“I never seen him play big before,” stated Barnes. “He plays poker once +in a while, but I think that most of his gamblin’ is done in the East.” + +“Goes East to gamble?” + +Hashknife squinted at Barnes. + +“Naw--the stock markets. Yuh know what I mean--gamblin’ in wheat and +oats and that kinda gamblin’. We took a train of beef back there two +years ago and Cal studied market stuff. Ever since then he’s gambled +thataway, and I reckon he didn’t get as square a deal as he got +today.” + +“They kinda hook yuh, I reckon,” observed Hashknife. + +“Dang right! They sure hookum-cow. Man ain’t got no chance to bluff; +don’t even get time to study his cards. I’ll takem mine over the poker +table, y’betcha.” + +“What happened to yore back and shoulder?” asked one of the cowboys, +pointing at Hashknife’s back, where the bullet had ripped the shirt. + +The wound had bled considerably, discoloring his shirt. + +“Oh, that?” + +Hashknife tried to twist his head and look over his own shoulder. + +“Well, sir, I was kinda hurryin’ along and snagged m’self on a barb-wire +fence.” + +The cowboys glanced at each other, but did not dispute the explanation. +That it was not done by a barbed wire was very certain, but they knew +better than to inquire too deeply into something that was really none of +their business. + +After the round of drinks Hashknife and Sleepy left the saloon, leaving +a bunch of cowboys trying to figure out why two sore-footed cowboys had +walked into town and why one of them had a bullet-scrape across his +shoulder. + +Jim Searles was standing in front of Bill Eagle’s general merchandise +store, and from him Hashknife found out where Pat Haley lived. Searles +scowled at them and hitched up his belt. Searles was an evil-looking +gentleman, short of body, but long of face. + +“Whatcha want him fer?” he asked after directing them. + +“Want him to say a prayer,” said Hashknife seriously. + +“Who fer?” quickly. + +“I dunno--yet,” grinned Hashknife and turned away. + +Pat Haley lived in a home-like frame cottage just at the edge of town. +Two great cottonwoods almost concealed the house, and the front yard +was a mass of rosebushes. A sorrel horse, saddled, was tied to the rear +gate, and voices were audible through the open front door. + +The two cowboys went up to the door and were about to knock, when Pat +Haley came into the short hall. He glanced quickly at them and grinned +with his pipe clenched between his big teeth. + +“Come in and rest your feet,” he greeted them. “Sure, it’s cooler in the +house, and me wife has just made a gallon of limminade wit’ ice. Come on +in.” + +They followed him into the living-room, where he introduced them to Ma +Haley and Mary O’Hara. + +“Me niece,” explained Haley. “She’s one-half of the Haley family, and me +and Ma are the other half.” + +Hashknife and Sleepy sat down awkwardly on the sofa and fondled their +hats. Hashknife winced from the jerk of his shirt as he sat down, and +Ma Haley divined that something was wrong. + +“Did ye get hurt?” she asked abruptly, getting out of her chair. + +“Now, it ain’t nothin’,” declared Hashknife. “I just got scratched with +a bullet, thassall.” + +“All?” + +Ma Haley came straight to him and made him bend his back. + +“Heavens above!” she exclaimed. “Why, the poor boy has been badly hurt! +Mary, get some hot water and car-r-bolic-acid bottle--quick!” + +“Aw-w-w-w!” begged Hashknife. “It ain’t nothin’.” + +“You’re in a ---- of a fix,” laughed Pat Haley. “When Ma finds a cut +or a bruise she niver lets up until she doctors it. But who shot ye, +Har-r-tley?” + +“I dunno. You tell him, Sleepy--I’m in the hospital.” + +“You’ve got to take off that shirt,” declared Mrs. Haley, “I never do +things by halves, me boy.” + +“Come out on the porch and I’ll tell yuh,” laughed Sleepy. “I’d get to +laughin’ if I ever seen Hashknife Hartley in the rough.” + +They went outside, leaving Hashknife groaning mentally. + +Mary came in with the water and bottle of acid, and Hashknife prayed +that she would go out again; but Ma Haley spoiled his prayer by saying: + +“I want you to help me, Mary. Every girl should know how to doctor a +cut, bruise or a gun-shot wound, and this is a bad one to star-r-rt +on,” and then to Hashknife, “Shall I cut the shirt off, or can ye +stand to have it pulled off?” + +Hashknife hesitated. + +“Bring me the shears, Mary.” + +“----!” breathed Hashknife. “I suppose there ain’t no way out of it; so +I might as well save the shirt,” and he began to take it off. + +He glanced at Mary O’Hara, who was trying to suppress a laugh, and at +Ma Haley’s serious face. It was too much for Hashknife. He bared his +back and prayed that it might not take long. + +From out on the porch came the droning of Sleepy’s voice as he explained +things to Pat Haley, while Ma Haley bathed the wound tenderly and +explained the dangers of infection to Mary O’Hara. + +For lack of adhesive Ma Haley was compelled to wind the bandages around +Hashknife’s chest and over his shoulder, which forced him to sit up and +face them, bared to the waist. He was bronzed from the sun, and the long +muscles rippled like those of an athlete. + +“Ye are no weakling,” declared Ma Haley, and Hashknife blushed like a +girl. + +“Would ye tell me where ye were when ye got shot?” + +“In Romaine’s front yard,” replied Hashknife. + +_Crash!_ Mary dropped the pan of water upside down on the carpet, and +it flooded Ma Haley’s shoes. She sprang aside and stared at Mary, who +was staring at Hashknife. + +“In Romaine’s front yard?” breathed Mary. “At the Romaine ranch?” + +Hashknife nodded and looked down at the wet carpet. Just at that moment +Pat Haley and Sleepy came in from the porch and stared at the tableau. + +“What went wrong?” asked Pat. + +“Mary fumbled the pan,” said Mrs. Haley gently. “Sure, the antiseptic +water should be good for the carpet.” + +Sleepy laughed and leaned against the wall. + +“Hashknife, yo’re all packed up and ready for shipment.” + +Hashknife merely glanced at Sleepy, but turned his eyes back to Mary +O’Hara, wondering why she dropped the pan of water. Why was she startled +when he mentioned the place where the horses were killed? Pat Haley was +talking now, and so was Ma Haley; one about the shooting, the other +about supplying Hashknife with a clean shirt while she washed the torn +one. + +Hashknife agreed with both sides and Ma Haley bustled away to get one +of Pat’s shirts, while Pat sat down on the sofa beside Hashknife. Mary +picked up the pan and went to the kitchen just as some one knocked on +the front door and Cal Severn’s voice called a greeting from the porch. + +Without waiting for any one to answer his hail, he came down the hall +and into the doorway, where he stopped and stared at the three men. + +“Excuse me,” he grinned. “I didn’t know yuh had company, Pat. Where’s +Mary?” + +“Out in the kitchen.” + +Severn walked through the kitchen door, and a moment later he and Mary +were in conversation. + +“She goin’ to marry Severn?” asked Hashknife. + +“Uh-huh,” grunted Pat. “That’s the idea, I reckon.” + +“Severn just won ten thousand dollars from Maldeen.” + +Pat took his pipe from his mouth and looked closely at it for a moment. +He squinted at Hashknife curiously. + +“Would ye say that ag’in?” + +Hashknife repeated the statement and added that it was won on a single +hand in which both men held full houses. + +“Well, well!” + +Pat blinked rapidly. + +“I’ve an idea that ten thousand is a lot of money. And ye say it was a +single hand? Ten thousand dollars! I’m thinkin’ that Doc Maldeen will +face a lean year.” + +Mrs. Haley came in with one of Pat’s shirts and gave it to Hashknife. + +“I’ll wash and mend the other one,” she stated, “and I’ll also go out +while ye put this one on.” + +“Yo’re a wonder, Mrs. Haley,” declared Hashknife. “My shoulder feels +better than it did before it was hurt.” + +“A little lyin’ directly from the heart hurts no one,” grinned Ma Haley. + +Hashknife put on the shirt and rolled a cigaret, while Pat Haley puffed +slowly, thoughtfully. + +“Sleepy told yuh all about what happened, didn’t he?” asked Hashknife, +and Pat nodded. + +“He did. I can’t for the life of me de-duct why ye were shot at, though. +If it was Shell Romaine, why would he wish to kill either of you?” + +“If he knowed why we are here he might,” said Hashknife softly. + +“Aye, but he don’t know. Cal Severn and meself are the only ones who +know. I have not told him, and I’m sure that Cal has not.” + +Hashknife studied the tip of his cigaret for a moment, and then-- + +“What do yuh know about Joe Wicks?” + +“The half-breed? He’s just Injun--no good. Got a shack in a gulch over +beyond the Romaine place. His woman cooks for Severn.” + +“Yeah, I know she does,” nodded Hashknife. “We rode up to his place +today. Joe was half-drunk--more than half, ’cause he asked us to have +a drink with him. His girl was there.” + +“Marie,” nodded Pat.--“Pretty Injun girl. She’s been to the Injun +school, and they tell me that she’s smart. Mary has taken a likin’ to +her.” + +Pat laughed and shook his head as he added-- + +“Henry Horsecollar Dryden is stuck on Marie and wants to marry her, so +Mary says.” + +“Thasso?” + +Hashknife grew interested; but just then Cal Severn came in from the +kitchen, barely nodded to them and went out the front door. + +“Well, that’s leavin’ in a hurry,” observed Pat. + +From the kitchen came the sounds of argument between Mrs. Haley and +Mary, and Pat grinned widely. + +“Sure, there’s been a battle,” he whispered. “Ma’s out there tryin’ to +pour water on the powder.” + +A moment later Ma Haley came into the room, her eyes serious as she went +to the front window and looked out. Then she turned to Pat. + +“Mary’s cryin’ her heart out, and Cal’s headin’ back toward the ranch.” + +“Well, now, isn’t that the usual thing to do, Ma?” + +Pat seemed surprised at her distress. + +“I mind the time that you bawled----” + +“I never bawled, Pat Haley! If you’d ’a’ hurt my feelin’s before we were +married--we wouldn’t ’a’ married.” + +“Ma, ye’re startin’ an argument with me,” warned Pat. “I have never won +an argument with ye yet, but I’m givin’ ye fair warnin’. I’ll win some +day, so I will.” + +“Ye will, will ye? Well, if it wasn’t for our guests I’d make ye wish +ye’d never made the statement.” + +Pat Haley grinned delightedly and was about to continue when Mary came +in. She had been crying, but her mind seemed to have been made up and +she spoke directly to Pat Haley. + +“I did not want to tell you this, but I think I must. I met Shell +Romaine this morning--in the hills. It was an accidental meeting. We +talked for a while about things, and he told me that everything and +every one was against him and for me to tell you that he was not going +to come in and report to you. He said that he was turning outlaw and +that he was going to get the game along with the fame.” + +Pat took his pipe from between his teeth and polished the bowl on his +palm while the others waited for him to speak. Finally he laid the pipe +aside and smiled softly. + +“I believe I’m not surprised. What time was it, Mary, and where did ye +meet him?” + +“It was about ten o’clock, and I met him on that narrow trail around the +head of Broken Gulch.” + +Pat turned to Hashknife. + +“About what time was it that you were shot at, Hartley?” + +“It must have been later than that. Mebbe it was ten-thirty or a little +later.” + +Pat nodded and rubbed his knees. + +“From that spot it is about two miles to the Romaine ranch.” + +He frowned for a moment and looked at Mary. + +“I’m sorry, but it looks like Shell Romaine had started real quickly to +make good his threat.” + +Mary’s eyes blinked back the tears, and she turned and went back into +the kitchen. Pat squinted after her and turned to Ma Haley, speaking +softly, + +“And what was the row about--between her and Cal?” + +“She would not say, Pat. Does a girl blab about the troubles between her +and her sweetheart?” + +Pat grinned at Ma Haley’s serious expression and turned to Hashknife. + +“It appears that Shell Romaine has challenged the law, does it not? I +hate like the ---- to accept, but me sworn duty says for me to bring +him to task.” + +“If he’s the one what shot at us, yo’re welcome,” said Sleepy. “That +jasper sure can shoot.” + +“Aye, he can that, and it will be a grand battle.” + +Hashknife got to his feet and shook hands with Ma Haley, thanking her +for dressing his wounds. + +“Come and see us,” she urged. “Ye have not been well entertained because +things are kinda upset; but drop in any time.” + +Hashknife turned and walked to the kitchen door. Mary was standing at +a rear window, looking out, but turned as Hashknife came up to her, +holding out his hand. + +“I--I am pleased to meet you,” she faltered. + +“Yes’m, I suppose yuh are, but yuh ain’t had much pleasure since I’ve +been here. I hope to see yuh again--smilin’.” + +He turned and walked on to the porch, where Pat and Sleepy were waiting +for him, and with a hearty handshake they left the warm-hearted sheriff +of Moon Flats. + +Severn had spoken to the livery stable keeper, and two horses were +saddled for them. The man volunteered the information that Severn had +gone back to the ranch. He dilated on the fact that Severn had won ten +thousand dollars from Maldeen, and was still marveling over it as they +rode out of earshot. + +Hashknife was very thoughtful, shaking his head as he debated things +with himself. Finally he said-- + +“Mary O’Hara is a danged pretty girl.” + +“Yeah?” + +Sleepy grinned. + +“Think she is, do yuh? Henry Horsecollar didn’t think so.” + +“He likes ’em dark.” + +Hashknife turned sidewise in his saddle and squinted at Sleepy. + +“I’ve got a hunch that Mary likes Shell Romaine.” + +“Yo’re dense as ---- if it took yuh that long to find it out,” grinned +Sleepy. “Didja notice that her and Cal Severn had a quarrel?” + +“Yeah, and I’d give a lot to know what it was about, Sleepy.” + +“What good would that do yuh?” + +“I dunno--no good, mebbe.” + +They rode in at the ranch and stabled their horses. Henry Horsecollar +squinted at their mounts and rubbed his chin. + +“Didja trade with the livery stable?” he asked. + +“Rented ’em,” said Hashknife. “Somebody shot both of our horses.” + +“M’ ----! Shot ’em? Where?” + +Sleepy sketched out their experience, and Henry listened in open-mouthed +amazement. + +“Well, sir,” he declared, “it’s a caution what folks will do. Cal Severn +came home a while ago, swore at me and almost jarred the winders out of +the house when he slammed the door.” + +“He won ten thousand dollars from Maldeen today,” stated Hashknife. + +Henry half-opened his mouth and leaned weakly against the corral. + +“Ten-- Aw-w-w, yo’re kiddin’ me, ain’tcha?” + +“In one hand of stud poker,” said Sleepy. + +Henry rubbed his chin slowly. + +“Well, sir, I reckon he wasn’t mad a-tall--he was crazy. The shock of +winnin’ that money kinda insaned him, don’tcha s’pose?” + +“It would me,” grinned Hashknife, and then sobered suddenly, as he said, +“I seen yore girl today, Henry.” + +“My girl--Marie?” + +Hashknife explained their mistake in thinking it was Romaine’s place, +and then he told of how Joe Wicks had hit Marie with a rock. Henry +listened calmly enough, but his lips tightened over the recital. + +“Drunk, was he?” + +“Drunk enough to ask us to drink with him.” + +“That’s pretty drunk,” admitted Henry. + +“I dunno where he gets his whisky--wish I did.” + +He sighed and leaned against the fence. + +“I never had no girl before. Mebbe folks will look down on me for carin’ +for an Indian girl, but it’s my own business. I’m shootin’ square with +her.” + +“Then we’re with yuh, Henry,” said Hashknife softly. + +“We’re with anybody that shoots square. Me and Sleepy ain’t no plaster +saints, but we sure do admire folks that shoot straight.” + +“I ain’t no saint either.” + +Henry shook his head. + +“I’ve mavericked cows and been two jumps ahead of the sheriff; I’ve done +a lot of wrong things, but I’m square with Marie.” + +“Kinda wipes out the rest of the charges,” nodded Sleepy, and added, “We +met Mary O’Hara today.” + +“Yeah? She’s goin’ to marry Cal Severn, I reckon. Anyway folks say she +is. Didja hear anythin’ more about the train-robbery?” + +“Not much,” said Hashknife. “They’re thinkin’ that Shell Romaine pulled +that job.” + +Henry grinned and shook his head. + +“I don’t believe that. I betcha Shell Romaine came back here to dig +up his half of that thirty thousand dollars he stole a year ago, and +he ain’t takin’ no chances till he gets it.” + +“There may be a hunk of truth in that,” admitted Hashknife. + +“Yo’re danged well right there is truth in it. I’ve felt that all along. +His old man has got a cache somewhere that’s a dinger. Mebbe Shell will +find that, too. Mort Lee came past here today and asked me if I’d seen +Shell. I wonder what Mort wants him for.” + +“Mort’s the cowpuncher that brought in the news of old Romaine’s +killin’,” said Hashknife thoughtfully. + +“We met him, too. What kind of a feller is he, Henry?” + +“Mort Lee? Well, I’ll tell yuh about me: If I can’t say somethin’ good +about a man, I won’t say anythin’. Mort Lee is jist so-so, if yuh know +what I mean.” + +“What about Jim Searles?” + +“That or’nary pup? Sa-a-ay----” + +Henry shook his head. + +“Words fails me when I even think of Jim Searles.” + +“That’s good,” said Hashknife. “Let’s see if Minnehaha has got any food +for the stummick.” + + * * * * * + +Cal Severn was not friendly the following morning, but the boys put +that down to the fact that the quarrel between him and Mary O’Hara +still ruffled him. He came down to the bunk-house after breakfast, +leading a saddled horse. + +“Goin’ after your saddles today?” he asked. + +“Pretty quick,” said Hashknife. “We’ll lead a couple of your horses so +we can return the livery stock.” + +“All right. Henry’ll show yuh the ridin’ stock.” + +“Reckon I’ll ride in, too,” said Henry; but Severn shook his head. + +“No; I want you to ride that upper fence today,” he said. + +Severn swung into his saddle and turned. + +“I’m goin’ up the east side of the river if anybody wants to know.” + +He rode away while Henry Horsecollar swore under his breath. + +“I dunno who in ---- cares!” he snorted. “Make me stay here all day +Sunday and then send me out to fix a ---- old fence!” + +“When yo’re foreman, yuh can do as yuh please,” grinned Hashknife. + +“Yeah, and when ----’s froze over I can skate, too!” retorted Henry +heatedly. + +Hashknife and Sleepy led two of the Diamond-S horses and rode the +livery horses across the hills toward the Romaine ranch. They did not +follow the road beyond Mission River, but swung back into the hills, +circled Joe Wicks’ place and swung around the heads of the gulches +which led down to the Romaine place. + +Just above the Romaine ranch-house the gulch forked like the letter Y, +and Hashknife and Sleepy circled both forks, which brought them out on +to the side-hill on the west side of the ranch. It gave them a clear +view of the place. The ranch-house was about four hundred yards away +and below them, as they rode into a thicket of jackpines and stopped. + +There was no one in sight about the place, but both men studied it +closely. They were going to be very sure that no one was there to ambush +them again. Hashknife slowly rolled a cigaret, never taking his eyes off +the clearing below them. + +“She’s plumb deserted,” declared Sleepy. + +Hashknife nodded in agreement, but his eyes continued to search the +tangle of timber and brush north of the buildings. + +“Look down the road!” grunted Sleepy, lifting himself in his stirrups. + +Two riders were coming up the narrow, winding road, heading toward the +ranch. They were plainly visible to Hashknife and Sleepy, who were far +above them, but they were still concealed from the ranch-house. + +“Who do yuh reckon it is?” queried Sleepy. + +“I dunno,” admitted Hashknife. “I ain’t familiar enough with folks +around here to tell who it is.” + +The riders came on, their horses kicking up a cloud of dust, swung into +the clearing and headed for the house. Then one of the riders seemed to +jerk sidewise and fell off his horse, which whirled and ran back toward +the brush, while the clear air was shattered by the whip-like _pop!_ of +a rifle. + +The other rider sprang from his horse and dropped flat on the ground, +while the horse whirled and followed the other one back toward the +brush. There was silence for several moments, and then the rifle +cracked again. A splatter of gravel lifted in front of the man on the +ground, who rolled rapidly aside as if trying to get the ranch-house +between himself and the shooter. + +Hashknife and Sleepy were watching closely, and now Hashknife drew his +six-shooter. + +“I think I see him, Sleepy. He’s shootin’ smokeless powder, but--watch +that heavy clump of willers.” + +As Hashknife spoke he lifted his gun and fired--once--twice. It was long +range for a .45 pistol, but Hashknife guessed the elevation perfectly, +and a man got up from among the willows and began running up the gulch. +He was partly screened by the brush, which made it impossible for either +Hashknife or Sleepy to tell how he was dressed or even to estimate his +physical proportions. + +It was only about fifty yards from the heavy willow clump to the forks +of the gulch, and both Hashknife and Sleepy emptied their guns at him, +but at that range it was impossible to tell where the bullets were +striking. + +At the forks of the gulch the man stopped in a screen of cottonwoods, +and a moment later a bullet splatted into the dirt under Hashknife’s +horse. Quickly they swung their horses back into the heavier thicket, +but another bullet hummed past their heads, cutting the plume off the +top of a jack-pine. + +“Dang the luck!” swore Hashknife. “If we only had a rifle!” + +He was shoving cartridges into his revolver as he spoke, and after +filling the chambers he dropped it back into its holster and turned +to Sleepy. + +“You go down and help with that wounded man. I’m goin’ to try and snag +that smart jasper.” + +Sleepy nodded quickly, and Hashknife spurred out of the thicket and +galloped off along the slope of the hill. His only chance was to circle +the heads of both gulches and try to head off the man’s escape; but if +the other had a horse close at hand he would have a decided advantage. +Hashknife could have ridden straight down the hill to the bottom of the +gulch and followed the man, but it would mean that he would have to ride +in the open in the face of rifle-fire; and this man had demonstrated his +ability with a rifle. + +Sleepy took the two lead-ropes and poked off down the hill, while +Hashknife circled the west fork of the gulch, riding recklessly but +watching the country. Between the two gulches was a wide stretch of +open country, where a rider would be plainly visible; but on the east +side of the main gulch were miles of broken hills, where a man might +hide away for months. + +Hashknife circled around the head of the west fork and galloped +straight across this wide flat, heading swiftly for the rim of the +main gulch, over a mile away. Instead of going toward the junction of +the two forks he swung to the left, cutting across to the main fork, +with the intention of striking it about half a mile from the forks. He +felt sure that the shooter, realizing that he had more than one person +to contend with, would retreat; and there was a bare possibility that +he would follow the gulch. + +Hashknife drew up at the rim and scanned the country beyond, but there +was no one in sight. The gulch was heavily timbered and extended far +beyond him. He hesitated only for a moment and then rode slowly down +through the trees, watching closely. The timber was so thick that he +knew the man’s rifle would be of little advantage. + +At the bottom was a deeply rutted cattle-trail, and a small trickle of +water showed the presence of a spring farther up the gulch. He stopped +in a thicket beside the trail and waited. + +From the top of a dead cottonwood a mourning dove called softly, +monotonously. Farther up the gulch a family of magpies started an +argument, and Hashknife smiled at the great similarity to human +voices. The old trail was deep with dust, which would muffle the +sound of passing hoofs. + +Suddenly a jack-rabbit flashed into sight, bounding along the trail like +a gray shadow. It passed out of sight, leaving a faint cloud of dust in +its wake. + +Hashknife hunched lower in his saddle. Something had frightened the +rabbit and that something was probably coming up the trail. + +Then came the muffled _plop, plop_ of a horse walking in deep dust, and +out of the brush-lined trail came a horse and rider. Hashknife leaned +forward and lowered his gun. It was Mary O’Hara! + +Her sorrel horse was streaked with sweat and dust and appeared so weary +that it did not even sense the presence of Hashknife’s mount, passing +within twenty feet and fading out in the brush beyond. + +Hashknife made no move until a full minute after she had passed; then he +rode out of the heavy thicket and went down the trail, wondering what it +all meant. What was Mary O’Hara doing there? Had she met the man who had +done the shooting? + +He watched closely as he followed the trail, but there was no sign +of any one in the gulch. It was impossible to distinguish tracks in +the deep dust; even the tracks of Mary’s mount were but hillocks of +dust. He rode out at the forks and swung wide of the brush to circle +Romaine’s fence. + +He rode over to the ranch-house porch, where Sleepy was sitting. Four +horses were tied to the porch-posts, and lying on the porch was a man, +his head bolstered on a folded coat. + +“See anythin’ more of him?” asked Sleepy. + +Hashknife shook his head and dismounted. The man was unconscious, +mumbling incoherently. + +“Splinter See,” said Sleepy. “Got hit in the shoulder. Pat Haley’s gone +after a doctor and a rig to take him to town in.” + +“Was that Haley?” queried Hashknife. + +“Yeah. He got his eyes full of sand from a 30-30 bullet and can’t see +very well, but it didn’t stop him from doin’ a complete job of cussin’.” + +Hashknife slowly rolled a cigaret as he considered Mary O’Hara. She had +known that Pat Haley was coming after Shell Romaine, and apparently had +cut across the hills to warn Shell. + +“Hurt kinda bad, ain’t he?” queried Hashknife. + +“I betcha. Me and Pat looked him over, but it’s a job for a doctor. +Didn’tcha see nobody, Hashknife?” + +“Seen Mary O’Hara.” + +Sleepy looked blankly at Hashknife. + +“Mary O’Hara?” + +Hashknife explained where he had seen her, and Sleepy swore softly. + +“Goin’ to tell Pat Haley?” + +“Nope. I figure that she knew that Pat was comin’ over here after Shell; +so she packed a warnin’ to him, and he stayed long enough to do some +shootin’.” + +“And now the whole ---- country’ll be on his trail,” declared Sleepy. +“He didn’t use no judgment.” + +“I don’t _sabe_ him,” admitted Hashknife. “There’s a lot of things +around this range that I don’t _sabe_.” + +“Well,” observed Sleepy, “things must be in a ---- of a muddle when +you’ll plead ignorance, cowboy.” + + * * * * * + +It was about an hour later when Pat Haley arrived. He was ably assisted +by several of Moon Flats’ leading citizens, among which were Maldeen and +Jim Searles. The doctor was not available, so they did not wait for him. + +The men were vociferous in the denunciation of Shell Romaine, and +assured each other that his demise was but a question of a short time. +They loaded the injured deputy into the wagon-box and trooped back +toward town. Hashknife asked Haley to take back the livery horses, and +after they were on their way Hashknife and Sleepy secured their saddles +and bridles. + +“I reckon that Shell Romaine is kinda up against it,” said Sleepy as +they mounted. + +“Sure looks thataway,” grinned Hashknife. “Everybody seems to be goin’ +after him.” + +“Kinda spikes our job,” complained Sleepy. “About the only thing we can +do is to set around and look on.” + +“Well, we sure can do that, can’t we?” grinned Hashknife. + +“Lotsa worse things than settin’ around. Let’s go back and see if Joe +Wicks has thought up any new cuss words.” + +They went back across the hills and dropped down into Joe Wicks’ road, +where they ran into old Joe astride a moth-eaten gray horse. He was +heading toward home, so they swung in beside him. Joe was just as dirty +and unkempt as before, but he was painfully sober. + +“What the ---- yo’ want?” Joe’s inevitable question. + +“How is the little girl, Joe?” asked Hashknife. + +Joe squinted at Hashknife but did not answer. + +“Rock didn’t hurt her much, did it?” + +Joe shook his head. He was evidently not in any mood for conversation. + +“Is Henry Dryden goin’ to marry her?” asked Sleepy. + +“No, by ----!” + +Joe woke up explosively. + +“Henry’s a good feller,” said Hashknife. + +“----fool!” grunted Joe. “My girl too good for him, by ----!” + +“He probably wants her to marry a king,” grinned Sleepy. + +They rode out of the willows and up the slope to the house. A tall roan +horse was tied to the porch, and Joe Wicks swore fluently, hammering his +old gray into a trot. He dropped off before reaching the porch and ran +the rest of the way. Hashknife and Sleepy rode up, but did not get off +their horses. + +Inside the house, Joe Wicks was discoloring the air with profanity, and +a moment later Henry Horsecollar came backing out of the door, followed +by Joe. Henry did not see the two men beside the porch. + +“Yo’ go to ---- out of here!” yelped Joe, waving his arms wildly. “You +le’ my Marie alone! _Hyak klatawa!_” + +“_Klatawa_ your own self, you ---- breed!” snorted Henry. “Keep yore +dirty paws off me or I’ll knock yuh plumb into the Happy +Huntin’-Ground!” + +“Yo’ go ’way, ---- quick!” shrilled Joe. “Yo’ not marry my girl, +yo’ ---- right!” + +Just then Marie came out of the door and Joe shoved her aside. + +“Yo’ keep to ---- out of this!” + +“You keep your paws off her!” howled Henry. “Leggo her, Joe!” + +“Yeh?” + +Joe leered at Henry. + +“Yo’ make me, eh? Huh!” + +Joe whirled Marie toward him and slapped her across the cheek--probably +to show Henry Horsecollar that Marie was his property to do with as he +pleased. + +Marie jerked back, throwing Joe off his balance, and in that fraction +of a second Henry Horsecollar sprang in and smashed Joe flush in the +face. It was a terrific punch, which started back about two feet +behind Henry’s right hip, described the arc of a circle and connected +perfectly with the head of Joseph Wicks. + +And the said Joe Wicks seemed to lift off the floor, straightened out +to an angle of forty-five degrees and floated off the porch, where he +fell limply among his colony of mongrel dogs. + +Henry blew on his sore knuckles and stared at Marie, who was looking at +Hashknife and Sleepy. He turned and looked foolishly at them. + +“Henry, you sure can hit,” applauded Sleepy. + +“Uh-huh,” admitted Henry. “Y’betcha I can.” + +They watched Joe Wicks get to his feet and look around. He was very +dignified and very erect. Twice he turned around as if surveying the +country, and then started out toward his corral, weaving like a drunken +man with his whole pack of dogs barking at his heels. The running-gears +of an old buggy barred his trail; but he walked into it, fell down and +went to sleep while the dogs all sat down around him and barked at each +other. + +Marie turned and walked into the house, and after a moment’s hesitation +Henry followed her in. + +“Yuh gotta hand it to Henry for bein’ a Romeo,” said Hashknife. “A +father-in-law don’t mean nothin’ to him.” + +“He’ll likely come out, draggin’ her by the hair,” grinned Sleepy, but +he was wrong. + +Henry came out alone, rather sad of face, and mounted his horse. + +“Goin’ back to the ranch?” queried Hashknife. + +“Uh-huh.” + +They rode down past Joe Wicks, but he paid no attention to them. + +“He’ll likely beat that girl after he wakes up,” said Hashknife. + +Henry started to go back, but changed his mind and rode on with them. + +“Prob’ly will,” he agreed sadly. “Mebbe he’ll beat some sense into +her--I dunno.” + +“Ain’t she got no sense?” queried Sleepy. “She says she can’t marry me.” + +“Mebbe she don’t love yuh, Henry,” offered Hashknife. + +“My ----!” exclaimed Henry seriously. “Now I never thought of that!” + +“Didn’t yuh ever ask her if she loved yuh?” + +“No-o-o, I never did. By gosh, mebbe that’s why she can’t marry me. +Whatcha know about that?” + +“And,” declared Sleepy, “all that hammerin’ on her pa’s head ain’t goin’ +to git yuh no votes from her.” + +“Huh!” + +Henry squinted both eyes and rubbed his right ear thoughtfully. + +“Love’s a ---- of a thing, ain’t it?” + +“Y’betcha,” agreed Hashknife. + + * * * * * + +The shooting of Splinter See and the open defiance of Shell Romaine +furnished food for conversation in the Mission rangeland. Splinter +was still alive, but badly injured. Ma Haley was a more than willing +nurse, and old Dr. Goodsell was thankful for her assistance. + +“When do ye look for a crisis?” inquired Pat. + +“Crisis ----!” exploded the old doctor. “When you get hit with a 30-30, +that’s the crisis--right then. If you survive the shock you’ll get +well--maybe.” + +Contrary to expectations Pat Haley did not swear in a big posse of +men and go hunting for Shell Romaine. The county offered a thousand +dollars for his arrest, and the express company offered two thousand +dollars reward for information that would lead to the conviction of +the bandit who robbed the express-car near Clevis Creek. + +To many folk it was a foregone conclusion that Shell Romaine had robbed +the train, and his early appearance in Moon Flats was but a part of his +defiance of the law. Since Splinter was shot, cowboys rode the range +with rifles handy--partly for protection, partly to try and collect the +reward. + +Mary O’Hara went softly about her work, taking little interest in +things, paying little attention to those who came to see Ma Haley’s +patient. But Cal Severn did not come again, and Ma Haley shook her +head sadly. + +She knew that Mary was unhappy, but was unable to decide whether it was +from the fact that Cal did not come any more, or-- Ma Haley sighed +deeply and reminded herself that the heart of a maid is a queer machine, +so it is. + +And Cal Severn seemed very unhappy, morose. He had little to say to +Hashknife and Sleepy, but vented his spleen on Henry Horsecollar, whose +hide was so thick that sarcasm and insult failed to penetrate. + +“If I was you, I’d bulldog that _hombre_,” declared Sleepy, disgusted at +Henry’s indifference to Severn’s vitriolic tongue. + +“He’s hard to comb,” replied Henry. “Fightin’ whelp, that feller is, +y’betcha.” + +“Then why not pistol-whip him?” + +“And be out of a job, eh?” + +“----!” breathed Sleepy. “You can’t beat humanity.” + +Mort Lee came out to the Diamond-S and talked with Severn. It was a +lengthy conversation, and when Mort Lee left the ranch he was so drunk +that he lost his hat as he mounted his horse, and did not go back after +it. Severn seemed to be cold sober. He studied the hat for a while, +kicked it aside and went back in the house. + +Hashknife was perched on the corral fence and observed all this. There +was nothing strange that Mort Lee should come to see Cal Severn; nothing +strange that Mort Lee should get drunk and lose his hat; but it caused +Hashknife to think deeply. He wondered whether Mort Lee had seen Shell +Romaine, and just why he had been looking for Romaine the day that they +had been ambushed at the Romaine ranch. + +Why had Cal Severn appeared friendly to Mort Lee, and then kicked so +savagely at Mort’s hat after Mort had ridden away? That trifling act +whispered to Hashknife that Cal Severn was not friendly to Mort Lee. + +Sleepy came from the bunk-house and climbed up on the fence. + +“Whatcha worryin’ about?” he demanded of Hashknife. “Yore nose is plumb +tied in a knot.” + +Hashknife continued to squint thoughtfully. + +“The Great Stone Face,” observed Sleepy, “has puzzled scientists for a +million years. What is it thinkin’ about? Say, I reckon I talked Henry +Horsecollar into stickin’ up for himself, Hashknife.” + +Hashknife merely grunted and glanced toward the house, where Cal Severn +was standing on the porch. He was looking down toward the bunk-house, +and in a moment he left the house and walked down that way. He showed no +effects of drink, except that he walked a trifle more erect than ever. + +He went into the bunk-house and shut the door behind him. + +“Henry’s in for another bawlin’-out,” grinned Sleepy. “I dunno how he +stands it, Hashknife.” + +“Henry’s a danged jelly-fish,” grunted Hashknife. “He might fight like +he did over at Joe Wicks’ place--kinda like an animal protectin’ its +mate; but nobody can insult him and make him fight. He’s just about +fool-proof.” + +“He sure is. Did Mort Lee go back?” + +“Uh-huh. Drunker than a whangdoodle. Lost his hat when he forked his +bronc, and after he was gone, Severn kicked ---- out of the poor old +hat.” + +Sleepy grinned and began the manufacture of a cigaret. The bunk-house +door banged open, and Cal Severn came out, kicked the door shut and +went down to the barn, where he began saddling his horse. + +“Look!” gasped Sleepy, pointing at the bunk-house. + +Henry Horsecollar was standing in the doorway, dangling to the sides of +the door with both hands, while he carefully felt for the one step with +his foot. Then he came out, looked all around and weaved slowly toward +the corral. + +Cal Severn mounted and rode past him, but Henry Horsecollar did not look +at him; neither did Severn even give Henry a passing glance. Henry came +up to the corral fence and looked up at Hashknife and Sleepy. Henry’s +two eyes were swollen almost shut, his upper lip stuck out like a duck’s +bill and the two front teeth in his lower jaw were missing. + +“You--you--give me thom good advith, like ----!” lisped Henry painfully. + +“My gosh, what happened to you?” gasped Hashknife. + +“Well,” mumbled Henry, caressing his swollen lip and trying to open +his eyes wide enough to see his listeners, “well, I told you he wath +a fightin’ thon-of-a-gun, didn’t I? He asked me to thaddle his horth +and I thought it wath a good time to atthert my independenth.” + +Henry twisted his face and spat painfully. + +“I told him to go to ----.” + +“And he didn’t want to go?” queried Hashknife. + +“He didn’t thay.” + +Henry shook his head. + +“Anyway he didn’t go thoon enough. By ----, I’m all through taking +advith, and that’s a thinch. I’m got thom brains now, y’betcha.” + +“Then you ain’t so much loser, after all,” said Hashknife. “Swellin’ +will go down, but brains remain.” + +“Better go and ask the cook for some beefsteak,” advised Sleepy. +“That’ll take out the swellin’.” + +“More advith?” queried Henry seriously. + +“I’m advisin’ yuh what to do to take out the swellin’, thassall!” + +“Thankth.” + +Henry squinted painfully toward the ranch-house, squared away and went +seeking raw meat. + +“He sure stuck up for himself,” observed Hashknife. + +“Yeah,” sadly. “I sure feel sorry for Henry. Severn has got him +buffaloed for fair. Somebody told Henry that Severn was a ---- of a +fighter, and Henry believed it.” + +“Lookin’ at Henry,” said Hashknife, “I’d be kinda inclined to think that +Henry heard a lot of truth. Let’s go to Moon Flats and see if there is +any late scandal.” + + * * * * * + +Mary O’Hara was standing in the kitchen door, looking off across the +hazy hills, when Hashknife and Sleepy rode up and tied their horses +to the fence. She smiled wistfully as they came up to her. + +“Yo’re lookin’ mighty pretty t’day,” grinned Sleepy. + +“Why emphasize ‘t’day?’” asked Hashknife reprovingly, and Sleepy blushed +bashfully. + +“Pat out huntin’ bushwhackers?” asked Sleepy. + +Mary’s smile faded, and Hashknife scowled at Sleepy, who fingered his +hat and tried to think of something to say that would mend matters. Ma +Haley spied them and came bustling out. + +“Why do ye come sneakin’ in the back way?” she asked. “Ain’t the front +way wide enough, or--” she glanced at Mary and smiled knowingly--“was +there an attraction?” + +“There was,” nodded Hashknife. “How is the sick man t’day?” + +“Cranky as the ----, if ye please. I think he’s gettin’ well too fast. +Won’t ye come in? Pat’s out in the hills today.” + +“Sleepy will go in,” said Hashknife. “He likes to talk to you about +nursin’; don’t yuh, Sleepy?” + +Sleepy squinted closely at Hashknife and was about to protest, but +nodded understandingly and followed Ma Haley into the house. Mary +watched them go inside and turned to Hashknife as if wondering why he +sent them away. + +“I wanted to talk to yuh,” said Hashknife softly. + +“Yes?” + +“Uh-huh.” + +Hashknife examined the palm of his right hand for a space of time as if +wondering just where to begin. + +“Things ain’t just right around this country,” he observed. “’Pears to +be a lot of unhappiness. Mebbe it ain’t nothin’ I can mend, but I’d sure +like to try.” + +“What do you mean, Mr. Hartley?” + +“I like to see folks smile, Miss Mary. Me and Sleepy are just a pair +of common old range tramps--not much good for anythin’, never havin’ +anythin’ except the smiles we’ve helped to bring to humanity.” + +“I don’t think I understand,” said Mary softly, wonderingly. + +“Nobody does,” admitted Hashknife, “until after the smile comes--then +they know.” + +“But what do you want of me, Mr. Hartley?” + +“Well--” Hashknife hesitated--“I’m goin’ to ask yuh a personal question. +I don’t reckon you’ll care to answer it, but nobody ever gets real smart +without askin’ questions. What did you and Cal Severn quarrel about?” + +Mary was staring at him; but her lips shut tight, and she turned away. +Hashknife reshaped his sombrero while he waited for Mary to consider the +question. + +“Why do you ask me that question?” + +“Just--kinda--wantin’ to know, miss.” + +“Oh!” softly. “Why should you be interested?” + +“Well, I can’t just come out and tell yuh, but it ain’t just curiosity. +I reckon I know how yuh feel about things. I’m a lot older than you, +Mary O’Hara; and I ain’t makin’ love to yuh.” + +Hashknife’s homely grin brought a smile to Mary’s serious face. + +“But just the same,” continued Hashknife, “I don’t reckon that age ever +stops a man from lovin’ a sweet girl.” + +“Thank you,” smiled Mary. “I shall remember that.” + +They were both silent for a few moments, and then Mary smiled sadly and +said: + +“I don’t know why you want to know what happened between Cal Severn +and me, but I feel that it is not just curiosity; so I will tell you. +He accused me of meeting Shell Romaine in the hills.” + +She flushed hotly and shut her lips. + +“Thank you, miss,” nodded Hashknife. “Thassall. I reckon I’ll go in and +see the sick man.” + +As he started in through the door he met Sleepy. + +“Patient’s asleep,” whispered Sleepy, “and Ma’s in there fannin’ the +flies off him. By grab, it’s a cinch to be sick around here.” + +“I reckon we’ll drift up-town then,” stated Hashknife. “And don’t forget +the smiles, Mary O’Hara.” + +“I’ll try to remember them,” she assured him. + +“What’s goin’ on around here?” grinned Sleepy as they rode toward the +street. “You tryin’ to make a mash on the fair lady?” + +“Mebbe,” said Hashknife absently. + +They tied their horses to the Moon Flats saloon hitch-rack and went +inside. There were several horses at the rack, and among them was Cal +Severn’s horse and Mort Lee’s brown mare. + +Maldeen, Severn, Monte Barnes, Newt Bowie and another cowboy were +playing poker. It was too early in the day for a heavy play, and the +rest of the games were deserted. Jim Searles was sitting behind +Severn, watching his play. + +The bartender had moved all the glassware from the back-bar and was +industriously painting a soap picture on the bar mirror, while in front +of the bar a couple of the dance-hall girls offered frank criticism of +his skill. + +The men at the poker game looked up as Hashknife and Sleepy came in, +but none of them spoke. The girls moved away from the bar and went +to the rear of the room, while Hashknife and Sleepy made known their +wants to the bartender. + +Hashknife studied the soap picture. It was well drawn, and depicted a +bucking horse almost unseating its rider. Hashknife frowned and bent +his head over his glass, but in a moment he shot a searching glance at +the bartender and said, with a grin-- + +“‘Soapy’ Evans, I had a hard time rememberin’ you.” + +The bartender’s eyes narrowed perceptibly as he stared at Hashknife and +said coldly: + +“You got the name wrong, pardner; my name’s Hill.” + +“Thassall right,” nodded Hashknife. “Hill’s as good as Evans. You +can’t hardly help paintin’ soap pictures, can yuh? Remember the one +you painted on the lookin’-glass in Bill Bird’s place in Elkton?” + +“I dunno what yo’re talkin’ about,” growled the bartender. “I never was +in Elkton.” + +“My mistake,” said Hashknife quickly. “It was in Bearpaw.” + +The argument had been loud enough for those at the poker table to hear +it, and Hashknife turned to see Maldeen looking closely at him. + +“What’s the argument?” asked Maldeen. + +“I called yore bartender Soapy Evans, and he kicked about it.” + +Maldeen laughed. + +“His name is Hill. He’s been working for me almost two years.” + +“All right,” grinned Hashknife. “If two years’ work will change a man’s +name from E to H--mine’s Zachariah.” + +Maldeen snorted and turned back to his cards, and after a moment +Hashknife and Sleepy rattled their spurs out of the front door. + +“Where in ---- did you ever know anybody by the name of Soapy Evans?” +demanded Sleepy as they sat down on the edge of the sidewalk away from +the Moon Flats saloon. + +“Never did know him,” grinned Hashknife. “About two years ago I dropped +in at the Cross-in-a-Box outfit in Wyoming for a few days. One of the +punchers was tellin’ us about Soapy Evans. Seems that he knowed Soapy +for a long time, but kinda lost track of him. + +“One night a gamblin’-house in a town near there was robbed--safe blowed +open. Whoever done the job knocked a watchman on the head and finished +up the job by paintin’ a picture in soap on the mirror. + +“This puncher said he knowed danged well that Soapy done the job on +account of the good drawin’ on that mirror, but he never told on Soapy. +I reckon it was partly because he was a friend of Soapy’s and partly +because he was afraid Soapy might find it out and come callin’.” + +“I betcha this is the same whippoorwill,” declared Sleepy. “He sure +acted guilty as ----; don’tcha know he did? And he’s been with Maldeen +for two years.” + +“Let’s get some information,” suggested Hashknife, and led the way over +to Bill Eagles’ merchandise store. + +Mort Lee was in there, or rather was just coming out as they went in. +Mort was still half-drunk and in a rather hilarious mood. He was wearing +a new hat which did not fit him very well, and this fact seemed to amuse +him greatly. + +He went weaving toward the Moon Flats, taking up much more than his +share of the street. Hashknife went up to the counter and replenished +his stock of tobacco. Bill Eagles was a squat-figured, dark-faced man +with keen brown eyes and a wide-mouthed smile. + +“Mort lost his hat,” he volunteered. “Mostly allus does lose his hat +when he gets drunk. + +“You fellers are working for Cal Severn, ain’t yuh? Thought yuh was. +How’s Henry Horsecollar these days? Ain’t seen him lately. Saw Pat +Haley ride past a while ago, but he didn’t have no prisoner. + +“I jist got some fresh sardines and a barrel of crackers in if you +fellers are hongry. Got a lot of nice canned peaches, too. Thirty-five +cents a can. Ain’t such big cans, but them peaches are dingers. + +“Got two kinds of sardines this time. One kind is in big cans and all +kinda gooied up with mustard. Fat Kahler ate two cans and they made him +kinda sick. I been wonderin’ if they’re all right.” + +Bill Eagles stopped for breath and handed some tobacco to Hashknife. + +“How long has Maldeen owned the Moon Flats?” queried Hashknife. + +“How long? Hm-m-m--lemme see. Why, I reckon about two years. He bought +out----” + +“How long has Hill been tendin’ bar for him?” + +“Hill? Lemme see. Why, he came here with Maldeen. I allus figured that +Hill owned an interest in the Moon Flats.” + +“Didja ever see any of Hill’s soap pictures on the saloon mirror?” + +Bill Eagles looked blank and shook his head. + +“I never seen none. Ain’t sure I know what yuh mean.” + +“Pictures painted with soap on a lookin’-glass.” + +“No, I never see any.” + +“All right; give us some of them mustard-soaked sardines and some +crackers.” + +“Yuh heard what I said about them peaches, didn’t yuh?” + +Bill Eagles did not want them to overlook their dessert. + +“And some peaches,” agreed Hashknife, sitting up on the counter. + +Bill Eagles spread a piece of paper on the counter and laid out the +lunch, keeping up a rapid-fire of comment on range happenings, asking +questions and never waiting for an answer. + +About fifteen minutes later Monte Barnes and Newt Bowie came into the +store. Hashknife invited them to dine, and they lost no time complying. +Bill Eagles opened another can of sardines and more peaches and invited +himself into the feed without an invitation. + +“Game busted up,” Newt informed them with his mouth filled. “Me and +Monte won six dollars and forty cents. Severn said it wasn’t interesting +to play four-bits-a-stack; so we cashed in and busted up the game. Say, +what was you kiddin’ Hill about?” + +“Mistook him for another feller,” grinned Hashknife. + +“Yeah?” + +Monte squinted at Hashknife. + +“He got mad and wiped out that soap horse after you left. Gosh, that +feller sure can draw! Maldeen said it was a ---- of a thing to put on +a lookin’-glass, and Hill rubbed it out.” + +The conversation turned to Shell Romaine and the express-car robbery. + +“Shell came to Moon Flats that mornin’, that’s a cinch,” declared Newt. +“Me and Monte run into him early in the mornin’.” + +“Wonder where he is now,” said Hashknife. + +“I betcha he’s up in the Sulphur Cliff country,” said Monte. “That’s +about the only place a feller could hide out around here unless he +hived up in the breaks between this place and Mission River, which +ain’t noways likely.” + +“Where are the Sulphur Cliffs?” asked Hashknife. + +“Back on Clevis Creek about ten or twelve miles from here.” + +“But why should he stay around here?” queried Hashknife. “Ain’t nothin’ +to keep him from pullin’ out of this country, is there?” + +“I been wonderin’ about that myself,” declared Monte, “and she kinda +looks to me like he was hangin’ around until he finds the old man’s +cache. Yuh see, the old man must ’a’ lifted a fortune.” + +“Yeah; but Shell must ’a’ had some of that thirty thousand dollars he +helped steal from the bank at Sula,” argued Bill Eagles. “What more +would he want? My ----, if I had thirty thousand dollars--uh-uh-h-h-h!” + +Came the unmistakable thud of a pistol-shot. At the moment Monte was +holding half-a-can of sardines, which fell from his hand, caromed from +his toe and landed upside down on the none too clean floor. + +“Somebody’s shootin’!” exclaimed Bill Eagles. + +“Nervous, like old wimmin!” complained Newt. “Actin’ like a pistol-shot +was somethin’ unheard of.” + +Nevertheless they all moved toward the front of the store and looked +out. Doc Maldeen and Jim Searles came out of the Moon Flats, and Searles +started for the hitch-rack; but Maldeen called sharply to him, and he +stopped. After a short conversation Searles turned and started down the +street toward the sheriff’s office. + +Hashknife flung open the door and started across the street, with the +others strung out behind him. Maldeen looked across at them and went +hurriedly back into the saloon. + +Inside the saloon they found Mort Lee lying half-under the poker table, +flat on his face with both arms flung wide. The elbow of his right arm +was resting on a Colt revolver. Cal Severn was standing at the end of +the bar, leaning on one elbow, while Maldeen stood near the card-table. +The bartender was leaning on the bar with his chin cupped in his hands, +looking down at Mort Lee. The air was still acrid from powder-smoke. + +The men from the store stopped just inside the door and considered the +tragedy. + +“He tried to shoot Searles,” volunteered Maldeen, “but Jim beat him on +the draw.” + +“What was the row about?” queried Bill Eagles. + +“Just a fool thing.” + +Maldeen shook his head. + +“Mort wanted to play Jim a game of seven-up for the drinks. They both +had six, don’tcha see, and Jim, who was dealing, turned a jack. Mort +swore that Jim cheated. That’s where it started.” + +“Jim went to give himself up.” This from Severn. + +“Is he dead?” asked Hashknife. + +“Yeah,” Maldeen nodded. “Drilled plumb center.” + +“How in ---- do you know?” flashed Hashknife. “Did yuh turn him over +after he was shot?” + +Maldeen was flustered for a moment and groped for a reply; but at that +instant footsteps sounded outside the door, and Pat Haley came in with +Searles. Pat glanced around the room and went straight to Lee. He shoved +the table away and knelt down. + +“Help me turn him over, somebody.” + +Maldeen assisted him, and they placed Lee on his back. Lee’s face was +ashen, and the breast of his faded shirt was sloppy with blood. Pat +grasped his limp wrist for a moment and looked up at the circle of +faces. + +“Somebody rustle around and find Dr. Goodsell while we take this +feller down to my place. He sure ain’t dead yet. Get a blanket for a +stretcher.” + +Some one found a blanket; and Hashknife, Sleepy, Monte Barnes and Pat +Haley carried Lee down to Haley’s home, where Ma Haley welcomed them +with open arms. The doctor was ready for the job when they arrived, +and his swift diagnosis showed that Mort Lee had a fighting chance. + +Pat Haley singled out Cal Severn and asked him about the shooting. +Severn’s evidence was the same as that given by Maldeen--exonerating +Searles. Mort Lee was drunk, quarrelsome, but not too drunk to draw +a gun. It was a simple case of self-defense. + +But Hashknife was dissatisfied, and did not conceal his feelings. Why +didn’t some one stop Mort Lee from starting the quarrel? He was drunk +and irresponsible; probably fumbled considerably, trying to draw a gun. +Why did three other men stand aside and let it end in powder-smoke? + +It was in the Moon Flats that Hashknife sounded his queries, which +only brought blank or black looks from the witnesses to the affair. +Only Maldeen resented it openly, and his resentment took the form of +sarcasm. + +“Some of these tramp cowpunchers wear kinda long horns,” he observed to +Severn, who did not reply, but half-smiled in agreement. + +“And some of ’em kinda hookum-cow,” remarked Hashknife meaningly. + +Maldeen leaned against the bar and studied Hashknife. There was no +doubt in Maldeen’s mind that this lanky cowboy was well able to take +care of himself. The wide holster and heavy gun, hanging low on his +hip, were too well-worn for ornaments. + +“Well, mebbe it was kinda foolish of us,” admitted Maldeen, “but it all +happened so quick, don’tcha see?” + +Maldeen’s inventory of Hashknife had caused him to assume a conciliatory +tone, but Hashknife was not to be won over by soft words. + +“Quick, ----! Didn’t they argue over the turnin’ of that jack? They +must ’a’ been standin’ up when they was arguin’, or Mort Lee wouldn’t +’a’ fell under the table in that position.” + +“Yo’re quite a detective, ain’tcha?” sneered Maldeen. + +“No, but I’ve got sense enough to smell a frame-up that’s as raw as this +one.” + +“What do yuh mean by that?” + +Severn whirled on Hashknife, his face black with anger. + +“You better take that back!” + +“Thasso?” + +Hashknife laughed in Severn’s face and shook his head. + +“Them are my sentiments, pardner, and I’ll hang on to ’em until Mort Lee +gets well enough to tell me I was wrong.” + +“‘Tend to yore own knittin’, Hashknife,” said Sleepy. “I’m estimatin’ +the rest of the crowd.” + +Sleepy had backed against the bar, where he could keep an eye on every +one, and he did not want Hashknife to worry about outside-interference. + +Just then came the scrape of a boot on the threshold, and Pat Haley +came bustling in. He stopped and looked at Hashknife and Cal Severn, +facing each other in the middle of the room, and his eyes shifted +around the place. + +“The doctor,” he said distinctly, “says that Mort Lee will pull through. +And I want ye to distinctly understand that the next cripple will have +to be shipped to a hospital, ’cause Ma Haley’s extra beds are all full.” + +Severn turned and walked away. The tension of the room relaxed, and +Maldeen offered to set up drinks; but Hashknife and Sleepy went outside, +where they mounted and rode out of town. + +“Do you think that was a smart thing to do?” queried Sleepy as they +swung into the Diamond-S road. + +“What do yuh mean--callin’ ’em on that frame-up?” + +“Are yuh sure it was a frame-up, Hashknife?” + +“I think so, Sleepy. Anyway I sure got a rise out of Cal Severn. He’ll +fight, that’s a cinch.” + +“That’s a ---- of a lot of satisfaction,” dryly. “Didja ever stop to +think that we came here for a purpose, Hashknife? We didn’t come here +to do battle with the natives.” + +“No-o-o, that’s right,” admitted Hashknife; “but in the course of human +events it become necessary to horn in and show some folks their errors. +Mort Lee don’t mean anythin’ to me or you, except that I’d sure like to +know why Mort Lee was looking for Shell Romaine, and why Cal Severn +kicked his hat.” + +“That don’t mean nothin’,” declared Sleepy. “Yo’re allus makin’ a +mountain out of a mole-hill, cowboy.” + +“Sleepy--” Hashknife turned sidewise in his saddle and considered his +companion seriously--“tell me just how you figure things up to date? +Lookin’ at it from yore angle, what does all this shootin’ amount to?” + +“Well, I dunno,” faltered Sleepy. “Kinda looks like Shell Romaine was +makin’ good, don’t it? The Black Rider is under the sod; Shell Romaine +is holed up. Mebbe he mistook me and you for the sheriff and deputy +and took some shots at us. The next time he don’t make no mistake, but +we put the run on him. + +“I figure that Mary O’Hara knowed that Haley was goin’ after Romaine; +so she packed a warnin’ to him. It’s a cinch that she likes Shell +Romaine--or did like him. It’s a mixed-up deal, Hashknife, but that’s +my opinion.” + +“Yeah?” thoughtfully. “Why did Jim Searles shoot Mort Lee?” + +“Drunken row. Searles is a gun-man, that’s a cinch. He got old man +Romaine.” + +“Jim Searles was the one that identified Cal Severn as bein’ the Sula +bank bandit. Then he kills old Rim-Fire Romaine, the Black Rider, and +this last time he smokes up Mort Lee, who was the one that packed the +news of old Romaine’s killin’. Mort said that he danged near got +killed by Searles. + +“That part of it was all right. I can imagine that Searles was kinda +jumpy over it, and when Mort Lee came bustin’ out of the brush Searles +didn’t know but what it was somebody workin’ with the old man.” + +Hashknife grinned as he visualized the scene. Mort Lee had said that +the twisted cañon and the running stream would effectually cut off the +report of a gun from him, and it was a wonder that Searles did not take +a shot at the man who appeared there at the moment. + +“At that, it was kinda lucky for Searles that Maldeen was with him,” +said Sleepy. “There was a reward offered for the Black Rider, and Jim +Searles wouldn’t mind collectin’ it--on any promising carcass.” + +They were at the forks of the road, where one road led across the +river to the Diamond-S and the other to Sula, thirty-five miles away. +Hashknife drew rein and considered both roads, while Sleepy looked +curiously at him. + +“Let’s go this way,” said Hashknife, pointing up the Sula road. “We +ain’t never been to Sula, and we ain’t goin’ to be none too welcome +at the Diamond-S after what happened today.” + +“I dunno why we’re goin’,” declared Sleepy, “but yo’re handlin’ the +rudder of this ship, cowboy.” + +“I dunno anythin’ about Sula,” confessed Hashknife, “but I might find +somebody to answer a civil question.” + +They swung into an easy gallop, heading toward the purple haze of the +Mission range; following a white ribbon of road, broken by the long, +late-afternoon shadows; two tramp cowboys, going out of their way to +help some one or to satisfy their own curiosity--or souls. + + * * * * * + +The departure of Hashknife and Sleepy did not bring any sadness to the +Moon Flats saloon. Cal Severn was sore over the accusation that there +was anything crooked over the shooting of Mort Lee, but talked little. +Searles was told of Hashknife’s insinuations and grew indignant. + +“Who in ---- are these two short-horns?” he demanded of Cal Severn. “If +I was you, I’d fire ’em bodily off the Diamond-S.” + +“The long one,” said Pat Haley slowly, “might not take kindly to it. The +small one--ye can’t tell about. Be the hang of his gun, I’d say they’re +a pair, them two.” + +“Well, they’re headin’ into trouble.” + +Thus Maldeen prophetically. + +“A man is skatin’ on thin ice,” he added, “when he accuses folks of +a frame-up shootin’ scrape. Why should Jim Searles want to kill Mort +Lee, I ask yuh?” + +“I wish I could tell ye, Doc,” said Pat Haley, “but it’s beyond me, so +it is. Mebbe Mort Lee can tell--if he lives and keeps his voice.” + +“The doctor thinks he’ll live, does he?” queried Jim. + +“That’s what he says,” replied Pat; “but ye never can tell. The doctor +has no powers over life or death, except to do what other doctors has +done.” + +Pat Haley finished his drink and went back home, leaving Maldeen, Severn +and Searles alone beside the bar. Jim Searles was ill at ease and helped +himself several times from the bar-bottle. + +“If I was you, Jim,” said Maldeen. “I’d pull out, while the pullin’-out +is real good.” + +“Yuh would, eh?” + +Searles scowled and rested his elbows on the bar; after which he reached +for the bottle again. + +“Don’t be a fool,” grunted the bartender. “You can’t afford to get a +skinful of hooch, Jim.” + +“The ---- I can’t!” indignantly. “Whose skin is this that I’m wrapped up +in, I’d like to know?” + +He turned and leered at Cal Severn. + +“You jaspers are full of advice, ain’tcha? I notice that the long, +grin-faced puncher run his li’l blazer on you, Severn. He didn’t take +back anythin’ he said, did he? Hah!” + +Severn’s brows lifted a trifle. + +“Do as yuh like, Jim; only I’d be away from the Mission range when Mort +Lee got his voice back if I was you.” + +“To ---- with him and his voice!” + +Searles was working himself into a rage. + +“You and Maldeen were here and seen it all. It’s three ag’in’ one, ain’t +it?” + +“Don’t get to yelpin’,” advised Maldeen. “Yo’re howlin’ loud enough to +be heard all over town. There ain’t nobody goin’ to give you the worst +of it, Jim. If you want to stay here--stay.” + +“Yo’re ---- right I’ll stay! I ain’t never collected the reward for the +Black Rider yet.” + +“And yuh likely never will,” said Maldeen. “The county commissioners say +that there is not sufficient evidence to prove that it was the Black +Rider. They contend that old man Romaine might have tried to imitate the +Black Rider, and that the real Black Rider is liable to show up any old +time.” + +Maldeen laughed and ordered the bartender to serve more drinks. + +“That’s a ---- of a way to look at it,” grumbled Searles. “I reckon the +only way I can grab off a reward is to go out and catch Shell Romaine.” + +“Why catch him?” queried Maldeen. + +Searles shook his head and shot a side glance at Severn, who was moodily +looking into his glass. + +“If he’d ’a’ stole my girl--” began Searles; but the next instant he +received the contents of Severn’s glass in his eyes, which was followed +up by a terrific smash in the face. + +The blow knocked Searles down, but did not knock him out. He spat +out blood and profanity and tried to draw his gun, but Severn sprang +into him, kicked the gun loose from his hand and flung it across the +room. Searles’ face was still swollen from Shell Romaine’s fist, and +Severn’s blow did not tend to increase his beauty. + +He got slowly to his feet, scowling at Severn, but did not speak; and +without looking for his gun he went out of the door. + +“That,” said Maldeen slowly, “was a bad move, Cal.” + +“Yeah?” + +Severn’s face was white with passion. + +“Because,” continued Maldeen. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could +toss a steer by the tail.” + +Severn looked down at his skinned knuckles, flexing his fingers slowly. + +“He’d be a fool to hang himself, doc.” + +“There’s been a lot of fools hung,” said Maldeen, “and they’re still +bein’ born every day.” + + * * * * * + +Hashknife and Sleepy knew the country through which they were riding +only from description; but a weather-beaten sign marked the trail up +Medicine Creek. They drew rein and looked over the scene of the +killing of the Black Rider. + +The road sloped sharply to the crossing with fairly heavy foliage on +either side and a box cañon on the right, through which Medicine Creek +came brawling its way over rock and drift. Beyond this to the left the +country was more open, although fairly well covered with brush. + +“She was a good place for a holdup,” said Hashknife as they rode on, +“with everythin’ in the favor of the bandit.” + +Fifty yards farther on he stopped his horse. There was a slight +breeze from the northwest, and Hashknife wrinkled his long nose like +a hunting-dog. + +“Somethin’ unclean in the world,” stated Sleepy. “Prob’ly a dead cow.” + +“Prob’ly,” admitted Hashknife, but swung his horse off into the brush +and tried to follow the scent. + +Sleepy growled a malediction upon any cowboy that would search for a +deceased cow-critter, but followed. About a hundred yards from the +road Hashknife dismounted at the side of a dead horse, which still +bore a saddle and bridle. The animal had been dead for several days, +and was already half-eaten by coyotes and magpies. They examined it +closely, silently. The saddle was almost new, but already discolored +and warped. + +“Horse wears a Box-R brand, and has been shot square in the forehead,” +said Hashknife. + +“Must ’a’ been shot kinda close,” observed Sleepy, “’cause it’s been +powder-burned. Whatcha make of it?” + +“Take a look,” said Hashknife, pointing at the front leg of the animal. +“Busted half-way between ankle and knee. Somebody had to shoot it.” + +“That part’s all right, Hashknife; but why didn’t they take their saddle +and bridle?” + +Hashknife rolled and lighted a cigaret before he replied. + +“Cowboy, that’s the horse that old man Romaine was ridin’ the mornin’ he +was killed.” + +“Thasso? There wasn’t no horse mentioned in the story.” + +Hashknife squatted on his heels and chuckled to himself. It seemed to +amuse him greatly. + +“Where’s the joke?” grumbled Sleepy. “Settin’ there chucklin’ at a dead +horse!” + +Hashknife sighed with evident satisfaction and got back on his horse. + +“Cowboy, she’s workin’ out,” he declared joyfully. “A dead horse ain’t +nothin’, but when yuh find one that is saddled and bridled and left to +the coyotes she sure means a lot to old man Hartley’s fav’rite +offspring.” + +“I’m just with yuh,” complained Sleepy. “I reckon I’m supposed to +chuckle with glee and applaud yuh for havin’ a wonderful brain, ain’t I? +Yo’re sure a wonder, Hashknife. My ----, I dunno how any human bein’ can +have a brain like you got! + +“She’s workin’ out, is she? Y’betcha she is, and the sooner we get out +of the wind from yore latest find, the better it’ll suit yore silent +pardner.” + +“Yuh still got faith in me, ain’tcha?” asked Hashknife seriously. “Yuh +ain’t doubtin’ me, Sleepy Stevens?” + +“Can yuh ask a question like that, Hashknife?” + +“Uh-huh-h-h-h.” + +“Then guess the answer,” retorted Sleepy. “Let’s go to Sula.” + + * * * * * + +While Hashknife and Sleepy headed for Sula, Jim Searles mounted his +horse and left Moon Flats, smarting from his injuries. Searles was +usually cold-blooded, but now he was hot with rage against Cal Severn. +He was not a man to take a knockdown without repaying it, and just now +his mind was working overtime on plans for revenge. + +But Searles was no fool. He knew the temper of both Severn and +Maldeen. Curiously enough he held no grudge against Shell Romaine for +the knock-down in the stage-office, in which he had lost both teeth +and prestige. + +He had no destination in view when he left Moon Flats, and suddenly +realized that he was nearing the forks of the road, which led to Sula +and the Diamond-S. + +He checked his horse to a slow walk as he rode down through a wooded +swale. Suddenly a man stepped out of the brush beside the road, causing +Searles’ horse to plunge sidewise with fright, almost unseating its +rider. Searles whirled the horse back into the road and met Shell +Romaine face to face. + +Romaine was watching Searles closely, coldly, with his hand covering +the butt of his heavy Colt revolver, and Searles instinctively lifted +both hands even with his shoulders. He knew that Romaine was lightning +fast with a gun, and was taking no chances on being misunderstood. + +“Whatcha want, Shell?” he asked, and his voice was hardly more than a +whisper. + +The ghost of a smile crossed Romaine’s face as he said casually-- + +“Yo’re kinda gettin’ in the habit of havin’ yore face busted, ain’t yuh, +Jim?” + +Searles’ hand went to his bruised face, feeling tenderly of his swollen +lips as he nodded. + +“Some friend of yours, Jim?” + +“No, by ----!” emphatically. + +“I’m kinda lookin’ for news,” said Romaine; “but I expect yuh to lie to +me, Searles.” + +Searles said nothing, and Romaine considered the remote possibility of a +truthful answer. Then he said-- + +“Is the sheriff huntin’ me?” + +Searles shook his head. + +“May or may not be the truth,” reflected Romaine out loud. “Who are +those two punchers who are workin’ for the Diamond-S?” + +“Couple of ---- fools that don’t mind their own business.” + +Romaine laughed. There was no possibility that Searles was not telling +the truth this time, he was so earnest. + +“The tall one ran a blazer on Cal Severn,” volunteered Searles. + +“What for?” + +Searles refused to say. He caressed his face and wished he was far away +from there. He did not care to answer some questions. + +“Goin’ out to the Diamond-S?” asked Romaine. + +Searles considered the question. He had not intended going there, but +he did not care to tell Romaine that he was just riding around; so he +nodded. + +“Will yuh pack a message to Cal Severn?” + +Searles shut his lips tight. He was about to explode a curse at the +mention of Severn’s name, but thought better of it, and said-- + +“Yeah, I’ll pack a message to him, Shell.” + +“Then tell him for me--” Romaine spoke very distinctly--“that if he +don’t keep away from Marie Wicks I’m goin’ to send him to the +undertaker. That’s all.” + +Searles stared blankly at Romaine. So Cal Severn was hanging around the +breed girl! Searles knew her; knew that she was pretty, and he also knew +that she was Henry Horsecollar’s girl. He had no idea of carrying that +message to Cal Severn, but there was no harm in agreeing to do so. + +“All right,” he nodded. “I’ll sure tell him, Shell.” + +“Much obliged, Jim. And yuh might also tell him that it’s ag’in’ the law +to furnish liquor to Injuns.” + +Searles grinned. + +“You _sabe_ quite a lot about things, don’tcha? Yo’re takin’ a lot of +chances hangin’ around so close to civilization when there’s rewards +out for yuh.” + +“I’m not the one that’s takin’ the big chances.” + +Searles considered this statement. It might mean a whole lot, or little. +Romaine stepped back against the fringe of brush. + +“You can go now, Jim.” + +Searles picked up his reins and settled himself in his saddle. + +“All right, Shell; s’long.” + +Romaine did not reply. At a turn in the road Searles looked back, but +there was no sign of Romaine. The size of the reward almost tempted +Searles to go back and try to take Romaine, but he thought better of +it, and rode on. + +In fact he rode faster now. He was going to the Diamond-S ranch, and +he did not want to be there when Cal Severn came home. He wondered +why Shell Romaine did not shoot him on sight. He had sent Romaine to +the penitentiary, had killed Romaine’s father, and still Romaine did +not seem to seek personal revenge. Searles could hardly understand +Romaine. + +He rode in through the Diamond-S gate and up to the bunk-house, where +Henry Horsecollar was humped up on a box, busily greasing a set of buggy +harness. There was a smear of grease across his upper lip, and his bare +arms were greasy to the elbow. He spat dryly and looked up at Searles. + +“How yuh comin’, Henry?” greeted Searles. + +Henry squinted closer and grinned a toothless grin that almost matched +Searles’. + +“Somebody give you some bum advice, too?” he asked. + +Searles felt of his face. He and Henry were both alike in facial +disfigurements. + +“Nobody gave me any advice,” grunted Searles. + +“Mebbe they forgot to, and that’s how yuh got yours.” + +Henry laughed as he poured some oil on his hand and applied it to the +harness, but Searles did not see the humor of the thing. He squinted +back down the road, being sure that Severn was not coming in behind +him, and then watched Henry a few moments before he said-- + +“Man sent a message to Cal Severn.” + +“Thasso?” + +Henry showed little interest. + +“Cal’s in town, I reckon.” + +“Well, I ain’t goin’ plumb back there to deliver it to him. I reckon you +can tell him, Henry.” + +“Shoot.” + +Henry wiped his hands on his overalls and leaned back to receive the +message. + +“A man told me to tell him that he’d better keep away from Marie Wicks, +or he’d fill him full of lead.” + +Henry did not say anything for several moments. He stared past Searles, +looking blankly into space. Then he wiped a greasy hand across his lips +and looked up. + +“Tell me that ag’in’, will yuh, Jim?” + +Searles repeated the message, and Henry’s greasy lips opened and shut as +if repeating it after Searles. + +“I--reckon--I--heard--yuh--right,” said Henry slowly; and then quickly. +“Who sent that message?” + +“Shell Romaine.” + +“Shell----” + +Henry gawped widely. + +“Where’d you see him?” he asked. + +“Ne’ mind where I seen him.” + +Searles grinned knowingly. + +“Well--” Henry bent over his harness and fingered at a buckle--“I’ll +tell him, Jim. Kinda hot t’day; ain’t it?” + +“Yeah, ’tis, Henry. Well, I gotta be movin’. S’long.” + +Henry watched him ride out through the gate, where he swung into the +hills instead of going back on the road. He blended into the gray of +the hills, and Henry turned back to his work. + +“S’long,” he muttered, never giving thought to the fact that Jim Searles +was a mile away by this time. “I’ll tell him what yuh said.” + +For a long time Henry bent over his work, polishing a buckle with the +ball of his thumb, a queer tightness about his throat. Shell Romaine had +sent that message to Cal Severn. Why did Shell Romaine send the message? +Did Shell Romaine want her, too? + +He knew now why Cal Severn had ordered him to stay at the ranch. It was +to give him a chance to make love to Marie. + +“Feller that’d do that won’t play square with a girl,” declared Henry +softly. “I’ve gotta buck Romaine and Severn. I ain’t scared of Romaine, +but Severn’s got money. Money! No!” + +Henry shoved the harness aside and upset the oil-can, but did not pick +it up. + +“I ain’t no ---- gun-man, and I ain’t got no money; but I’m playin’ +square with the girl.” + +He got to his feet and leaned against the bunk-house door; a pathetic, +lanky figure in his ill-fitting range clothes, his lips set tight with +determination. After a while he shook his head slowly, shoved his hands +down deep in his overalls and said out loud: + +“The only ---- girl I ever had was Injun; and I couldn’t keep her. I’m +a ---- of a lover all right.” + +Then he stumbled back into the bunk-house. + +But Jim Searles was not through yet. He circled the hills, arriving at +Moon Flats just before dark and going straight to Pat Haley’s home. Pat +was sitting on the porch smoking his pipe, and he looked curiously at +Searles, who dismounted at the gate and strode briskly up the gravel +walk. + +Mary O’Hara came to the door to call Pat to supper, but hesitated as she +saw Jim Searles coming up to the porch. + +“Hyah, Pat,” said Searles and tipped his sombrero to Mary. + +Pat grunted and removed the pipe from his mouth, while his keen eyes +studied Searles’ battered face. + +“I wanted to see yuh,” said Searles slowly, “’cause I thought yuh might +like to know that I seen Shell Romaine today.” + +“Ye did?” + +Pat stared at him quizzically and shoved the pipe-stem between his +teeth. + +“Where did ye see him?” + +“Back in the hills.” + +Searles glanced at Mary, who was leaning against the door, trying to +appear at ease. + +“Which covers a lot of territory,” remarked Haley. “Would ye mind bein’ +more specific, Searles?” + +“Well, along the road between here and the river. He stopped me, and we +talked a while.” + +“Hm-m-m.” + +Pat Haley grew curious. + +“And why didn’t ye bring him back with ye?” + +Searles grinned and shook his head. + +“I’m no officer.” + +“So ye came to tell me where to find him, eh?” + +“Well, I thought yuh might like to know he was still in the country.” + +“Which I would,” nodded Pat. “What did he have to say?” + +Searles grinned widely. + +“He sent a message to Cal Severn, but I don’t jist _sabe_ the meanin’ +of it, Pat. He told me to tell Cal to quit makin’ love to Marie Wicks +or he’d fill him full of holes.” + +For a moment there was complete silence. Searles glanced at Mary’s face, +which had gone gray as ashes. Pat heaved himself to his feet, gripping +his pipe so tightly that his teeth snapped through the amber stem. Came +Ma Haley’s voice just inside the door-- + +“Have ye no appetites, or do ye think I’m runnin’ a short-order caffay?” + +She came out of the door and looked at every one. + +“Now, what the ----?” she began, but stopped as Pat stepped off the +porch and grasped Searles by the shoulder. + +“Who told ye to come here and say that?” he demanded. “Did Shell Romaine +tell ye to say that before Mary?” + +“Wait a minute!” snapped Searles, yanking away from Haley. “What’s all +the fuss about? I was just tellin’ yuh what Romaine told me to tell Cal +Severn.” + +“And he knowed you’d tell everybody else, eh?” + +“Don’t say that,” begged Mary. “Shell Romaine may be an outlaw, but +he wouldn’t hurt me. He knew I was engaged to Cal Severn, and he +wished--us--luck.” + +Pat turned from Mary and glared at Searles. + +“What do you know about Cal Severn and Marie Wicks?” + +“Not a thing, Pat. I didn’t know I was goin’ to start an explosion, or +I’d ’a’ kept my mouth shut.” + +“What was it?” demanded Ma Haley. “What about Cal Severn and the Injun +lass?” + +“We’ll not repeat it,” declared Pat firmly as he turned toward the door. +“Good evenin’ to ye, Searles.” + +Searles turned and went back to the gate, while Mary O’Hara went softly +back into the house. Pat shook his head slowly and stared down at the +ground. Ma Haley had heard enough to know that it affected Mary O’Hara +and coupled the names of Cal Severn and Marie Wicks. Then Pat said +softly, bitterly-- + +“Sure, it’s broke square in two, Ma.” + +“Mary O’Hara’s heart, Pat?” + +“No--me good old pipe,” pointing down where it had fallen after the stem +had snapped. + +“Aw, to the ---- wid yer old pipe!” exploded Ma Haley, and whirled back +into the house. + +“Aye,” muttered Pat, “to the ---- it is, sure enough. Now I’ll have +to buy me some cigy-reet papers and burn a hole in the middle of me +mustache. And they’re a poor counterbalance for the lower jaw of a +man, so they are.” + +He shook his head sadly over the remains of his pipe and went slowly in +through the open door. + + * * * * * + +The following morning in the little town of Sula, Hashknife and Sleepy +came out of the hotel dining-room and looked over the one long street. +Sula was a mining community, although partly supported by the northern +end of the Mission cattle range. In front of the stage-station a +pack-train of burros were being loaded, and a number of men had +congregated there to offer useless advice. + +Hashknife and Sleepy drifted over there and watched operations until +the departure of the pack-train, after which they loitered around the +stage-station. The keeper of the station, a little, dried-up-looking +person, wearing a badly warped pair of glasses, asked them what he +could do for them. + +“Not a thing, pardner,” grinned Hashknife. “We’re strangers here. Got in +last night after dark, and we’re just kinda lookin’ around.” + +“Well--” the man adjusted his glasses and rubbed the palms of his hands +on his overall-clad thighs--“you can almost see Sula at a glance.” + +“Yeah, I noticed that,” grinned Hashknife. “The old-timers just built +along the pack-trail. Anythin’ excitin’ ever happen around here?” + +The man looked curiously at Hashknife and shook his head. + +“No, I can’t say there is. Things are about the same every day. On +pay-day the boys come in and kinda razoo the old town, but most of the +time she’s like you see her right now.” + +“We came here from Moon Flats,” explained Hashknife. “Do yuh know +anybody down there?” + +“No, not many. They don’t usually come up this far.” + +“Know Doc Maldeen?” + +“Runs the Moon Flats saloon, don’t he? Yeah, I know him when I see him, +but not pers’nally.” + +“Been here lately?” + +The man squinted thoughtfully and shook his head. + +“Not for a month or two. Used to come up here on pay-day. Town’s pretty +good for gamblers at that time.” + +“What do yuh think about the killin’ of the Black Rider?” + +“I dunno. It ain’t been exactly proved that it was the Black Rider, has +it? I ain’t seen Searles since that day. Yuh see, he was only drivin’ +for about a month, and that was his last trip.” + +“Did the Black Rider hold him up any time?” + +“Nope. He just tried it once. Wasn’t no use anyway, ’cause we never sent +any money on the stage. That mornin’ I was talkin’ to Searles about the +Black Rider. It’s a long ways to ride alone, and I don’t blame him for +not liking the job.” + +“Where did Maldeen do most of his playin’ up here?” + +“Up at the Cinnibar saloon mostly. I expect he’ll be up here ag’in about +the twentieth of the month--pay-day.” + +Hashknife and Sleepy went back up the sidewalk and over to the Cinnibar +saloon, where they leaned their elbows on the bar. The bartender, a +smooth-haired, silk-shirted individual, greeted them warmly. + +“Came in from Moon Flats,” volunteered Hashknife. “Got in late last +night, and we’re still clogged with dust.” + +“Yeah? How’s my old friend Doc Maldeen?” + +“Doc’s fine as frawg-hair. Probably be up here on pay-day.” + +“I betcha.” + +The bartender examined the part of his hair in the fly-specked mirror, +and, finding it perfect, turned back. + +“Doc swears that Sula is the best town in the State,” the bartender +remarked, “but he never comes to see us except on pay-day.” + +“Ain’t he been here since last month?” casually. + +“Naw. He waits for the money to come in. He’s some card-player, +y’betcha.” + +“Lost ten thousand in one hand to Cal Severn the other day--and dealt it +himself.” + +The bartender grinned widely. + +“Brother, don’tcha try to make me swaller that; I know this country too +well.” + +“She’s a fact,” declared Hashknife. “There’s a number of folks seen the +play and seen Maldeen hand out the _dinero_.” + +“Well--” the bartender set out the bottle and motioned for them to +help themselves--“I don’t doubt but what you fellers are tellin’ me +the truth, but I’ll bet the feller that told you lied like ----. Ten +thousand! Say, have you got any idea of how much money that is? Ten +thousand dollars, ----!” + +“I’m sorry to upset yuh thataway,” consoled Hashknife. “Bothered with +asthma, aint’cha? Yuh kinda wheeze like yuh was. Keep away from wild +flowers and don’t rub a cat’s back any more than yuh have to. C’mon, +Sleepy.” + +They went out of the Cinnibar, leaving the bartender leaning across the +bar and trying to figure out just what Hashknife meant. He finally swept +the glasses into the wash-tub beneath the bar, swore softly to himself +and examined his hair again. + +Hashknife and Sleepy went down to the little hotel and paid their bill +to a grouchy old individual, who seemed to be soured on the world and +all therein. + +“Goin’ away, are yuh?” he asked. “Dag-gone it, seems like nobody stays +here any longer than they have to. Which way yuh goin’?” + +“North,” said Hashknife, which was untrue. “I was just wonderin’ if I +could leave a note with you for Doc Maldeen. Know him, don’t yuh?” + +“Yeah, I know him.” + +He turned to an old calendar back of his desk and studied it closely. + +“He won’t be here for about ten days.” + +“Don’t he never come here except on pay-day?” + +“Well, I don’t say he won’t, but I will say that he never has. If yuh +leave a note I’ll----” + +“Ne’ mind--I’ll likely see him before that. Much obliged, old-timer. +S’long.” + +They went to the livery stable and got their horses. Sleepy had not +spoken a dozen words since breakfast, but when they rode out of town, +heading back toward Moon Flats, he said: + +“Yuh came thirty-five miles to find an honest man and picked on a +stage-station boss, a bartender and a grouchy old hotelkeeper. What +did yuh find?” + +“Three honest men, Sleepy. I never seen such an honest town in my life.” + +“Yuh kinda lied a little yourself, didn’t yuh, Hashknife?” reprovingly. + +“Uh-huh. Yuh see, when yo’re lookin’ for truth in yore feller men, +Sleepy, yuh may have to lie to get ’em to tell the truth.” + +“Mebbe,” admitted Sleepy; “but yuh still got me fightin’ my head, +cowboy.” + +“That’s a good part of yuh to fight--it’s so hard that yuh can’t never +do it no permanent injury, Sleepy.” + + * * * * * + +Cal Severn did not go out to the ranch that night. He was in no mood +to meet Hashknife Hartley, and he was under the impression that the +two punchers had gone back to the ranch. He was troubled about Jim +Searles too, and was sorry that he had knocked him down. + +Searles had not showed up again at the Moon Flats, and Severn wondered +where he had gone. The next morning he ran face to face with Mary +O’Hara, who was coming out of Bill Eagles’ store. She tried to go past +him, but he blocked her way. + +“Wait a minute, Mary,” he said. “I want to talk with you.” + +“I do not think it interests me at all,” replied Mary coldly. “Will you +please stand aside, Mr. Severn?” + +“Aw, shucks!” + +Severn stepped aside, but walked beside her down the sidewalk. + +“Mary, I want to apologize for what I said the other day. Dog-gone it, +won’t yuh accept an apology? I was a darned fool, and I didn’t have no +right to say what I did.” + +“I am glad you realize that part of it,” said Mary coldly, “and I don’t +really think you had better go any further with me.” + +Severn laughed, but there was little mirth in it. “Now, listen, Mary. +I’ve apologized and admitted that I was a darned fool, haven’t I? What +more can I do?” + +“You can turn around and stop annoying me.” + +“Thasso? Aw, what’s the matter with you, anyway? Lemme have a talk with +yuh, Mary.” + +Severn’s voice was low and pleading, but it had no effect on Mary +O’Hara. + +He followed her in through the gate and up to the porch, where they met +Pat Haley, who was coming out of the house. Without a word Mary stepped +around him and went in through the open door, while Pat Haley blocked +the passage to Cal Severn. + +“What’s the big idea?” asked Severn wonderingly. + +“Ye’re not welcome here, Severn,” replied Pat easily. + +“Not welcome?” + +Severn frowned thoughtfully. + +“What do yuh mean, Pat? What’s gone wrong?” + +“Come away from the house and I’ll talk to ye.” + +They walked down to the gate, which Pat opened and motioned Severn +outside. Wonderingly he obeyed and turned, facing Pat. + +“Now tell me what in ---- is the matter with you, will yuh?” + +Severn’s voice was trembling slightly. + +“I will,” nodded Pat. “It has been told to us that ye have been makin’ +love to Marie Wicks, the Injun girl.” + +Severn’s face flushed hotly, and then the color drained out, leaving +it a gray tinge. He gripped the top of the gate and leaned closer to +Pat Haley. + +“Who packed you that ---- lie?” he rasped. “Tell me who told yuh that +and I’ll shoot his ---- heart out!” + +“Which wouldn’t disprove the statement,” said Pat softly. + +“----! Do yuh believe a lie like that, Pat Haley?” + +“Can ye prove it’s a lie, Severn?” + +Pat’s gray eyes bored into Severn’s soul. + +“Prove it? My ----, do I have to prove a thing like that?” + +“Ye do--unless ye don’t care to, Severn.” + +Severn relaxed a trifle and began the manufacture of a cigaret. His +hands trembled slightly, and he spilled half a sack of tobacco on the +ground. + +“Did Hartley and his pardner pack that talk to yuh?” + +“I’ll name no names,” declared Pat. “It was not told to me in +confidence, but I’ll not say who told it. In fact, the man was carryin’ +the same message to you--to keep away from Marie Wicks.” + +“I don’t getcha.” + +Severn squinted away from the match as he lit his cigaret. + +“Do yuh mean to say that this ---- liar said he was bringin’ me a +message like that from somebody else?” + +“Ye have a complete understandin’,” said Pat. + +“Well--” Severn hitched up his cartridge-belt and sighed deeply--“if you +won’t tell me who it was--how can I prove that it’s a lie?” + +“I’m not askin’ ye to prove it.” + +“You’d rather go on believin’ it, eh?” harshly. “You know why I hired +Hartley and Stevens. It wasn’t because I needed ’em, Haley. I seen +that lanky Hartley lookin’ at Mary O’Hara, like a ---- coyote lookin’ +at a lamb. Well, if yuh want to believe him--go ahead.” + +“We’ll leave her name out of it, if ye please.” + +Pat’s voice cut like a knife. + +“Oh, all right.” + +Severn turned and started away, but stopped after a few steps. + +“I just wanted to tell yuh that the way yo’re runnin’ yore office don’t +make no hit with folks around here, and they’re wonderin’ why you ain’t +makin’ no effort to find Shell Romaine. Some of them say yo’re afraid +and others kinda suggest that it’s kind of a family affair.” + +Severn turned on his heel and went back up the street, while Pat Haley +lifted his right hand from near the butt of his gun and gripped the +gate. + +“Ye unspeakable pup!” he breathed. “Ye have unfurled yer flag to me, and +the colors are yellow.” + +Pat turned wearily away from the gate and went slowly back to the +house. He saw Mary saddling her horse near the rear gate and watched +her ride away toward the hills. He went back to the porch steps and +sat down heavily, his mind mixed with strange emotions. Then he took +out a book of cigaret-papers and a sack of flake tobacco. + +“Until Bill Eagles gets a shipment of pipes I’ve got to do this,” he +muttered, his lips set in a thin line of determination, “and ’t’s goin’ +to be the ----’s own job to make one unless there’s some tougher papers +in this package than there were in the last bunch I wore out.” + + * * * * * + +Cal Severn went back to the Moon Flats saloon, where he drank straight +whisky, filling the glass to the brim four times and drinking at a +single gulp. Maldeen was at a card-table, studying a solitaire layout, +but stopped his game to watch Severn. + +Searles was sitting across from Maldeen, watching his play, but out of +the corner of his eye he noted the feverish way in which Severn bolted +his liquor. Something seemed to tell him that Severn had received a hard +jolt, and he felt that Shell Romaine’s message had been delivered. + +It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Severn knew who had delivered +the message. Perhaps Severn was getting up courage enough to start +trouble. + +Searles reached down slowly and slid his holster over the top of his +leg and loosened the Colt six-shooter a trifle. Being prepared had +saved Searles several times, and he thoroughly believed in the law of +self-preservation. + +Severn turned and leaned back against the bar, looking calmly around. +His half-shut eyes dwelt for a moment on Maldeen and Searles, but the +set expression of his face did not change as he said-- + +“C’m and have a drink, you two.” + +It was an order, but neither man resented it. They walked to the bar, +and Severn turned around with them. + +“How yuh comin’, Cal?” asked Maldeen. + +Severn did not reply until he had imbibed another full glass of raw +liquor. He turned his head and looked curiously at Maldeen. Severn was +not a drinker, and the successive jolts of bad whisky had taken effect +already. + +After looking at Maldeen he turned back to the bar and called for more +liquor. + +“Take it easy, Cal,” advised Maldeen. “You’ve had too much already.” + +“Yeah?” snarled Severn. “When did you get the right to preach to me? +Have a drink, yuh tin-horn.” + +Maldeen knew that Severn was drunk in the head, but that his nerve +and body was cold sober; so he accepted another drink and the rebuke +in silence. Searles held his glass in his left hand, while his right +hung close to the butt of his gun; but Severn paid no attention to +him until after the drink was finished. + +Several other men had come into the place, and Maldeen shifted around +uneasily. Severn was just in the right mood to start trouble, but he +merely looked drunkenly at the men and took Maldeen by the arm. + +“I want to talk to yuh, Doc,” seriously. “You and Jim Searles. C’mon.” + +Maldeen led the way back to his private room, and Searles, filled with +misgivings, trod close to Severn. He was all set for anything that might +happen. They went into the room, and Maldeen locked the door. There was +a couch, a couple of chairs, a table, littered with papers, ore samples +and an empty bottle. The rough walls were speckled with old photographs +and pictures cut from sporting magazines and papers. + +Severn sat down heavily on the couch, flung his hat across the room and +leaned back wearily against the wall. Maldeen sat down beside the table, +but Searles remained standing just inside the door. Maldeen waved him to +a chair, but he shook his head and leaned against the wall. + +“Nobody’s goin’ t’ hurt yuh, yuh ---- fool!” snorted Severn drunkenly. + +“I know it, Cal,” grinned Searles, but did not sit down. + +“Nobody can hear us talkin’ in here, can they?” asked Severn, and +Maldeen shook his head. + +“Either one of you seen them two strange cow-punchers today?” he asked. + +“Not today,” said Maldeen. “They left town right after you and the long +one almost had trouble.” + +“I don’t think they’ve been back since,” added Searles. + +“I hope to ---- that they never come back!” exploded Severn. “But they +will, ---- ’em!” + +Maldeen was interested now. + +“What’s the idea, Cal?” + +“One of ’em went to Pat Haley and said that I was makin’ love to Marie +Wicks.” + +Searles jerked visibly and burned himself on his cigaret. This was +interesting news to him. + +Maldeen half-smiled. + +“Tryin’ to queer yuh with Mary O’Hara, eh?” + +“Oh, go to ----!” blurted Severn. “He said that somebody sent the +message to me to let her alone.” + +Searles inhaled deeply and studied Severn closely. It might be a scheme +to allay his fears, but he was not going to be caught napping. + +“Somebody, eh?” + +Thus Maldeen. + +“Tryin’ to pass the buck to somebody else, eh?” + +“Yeah,” snarled Severn blackly, but leaned forward and lowered his +voice. “I never told anybody who them two punchers are, doc. Me and Pat +Haley are the only ones who know about ’em; so I kept my mouth shut. I +didn’t want to tell anybody, ’cause it might not look good, comin’ from +me; _sabe?_” + +“Thasso?” + +Maldeen hitched forward in his chair. + +“Shell Romaine’s out on parole, which yuh probably know,” continued +Severn. “He was sent up for five years and got out in one year. Didja +ever wonder how he got paroled in one year? Yuh didn’t? There was +thirty thousand dollars lifted in that robbery, and not a cent of it +ever recovered. + +“The mornin’ that Shell Romaine showed up here them two punchers rode in +and asked for a job. I didn’t want to hire anybody but Hartley handed me +a letter which showed who they were--and I hired ’em. + +“I reckon it was sort of a political pull that the bank directors had, +but anyway they got Shell paroled in a year thinkin’ that he’d come +back here and lift his cache. Hartley and Stevens were workin’ for the +Cattlemen’s Association and they were selected to come here and watch +Shell Romaine. The bank wants that thirty thousand dollars.” + +“I see,” said Maldeen softly, wonderingly, while Jim Searles whistled +softly and sat down in the empty chair. + +“Well they ain’t been trailin’ Shell Romaine, that’s a cinch,” declared +Searles. + +“How could they?” queried Maldeen. “Things broke against ’em. Anyway +they don’t look like they had the sense of a shepherd.” + +“Thasso?” + +Severn seemed to wake up out of a trance. + +“Don’tcha fool yoreselves. What about that shootin’ scrape yesterday? +Don’t tell me that they ain’t got no sense.” + +“Well, whatcha want to do?” asked Searles. + +“I don’t want to do a ---- thing,” declared Severn; “but I’d give a +thousand dollars if somethin’ would happen to wipe out the both of +’em. One thousand cold dollars.” + +“Apiece?” queried Searles softly. + +“Yeah,” said Maldeen meaningly. + +Jim Searles burned himself again on his cigaret and flung it quickly +aside as he got to his feet. + +“Well, what’s all the delay?” he grunted. “Ain’t nothin’ more to talk +about, is there? Let’s go.” + +“Nobody settin’ on yore shirt tail is there?” queried Maldeen. “Go +ahead.” + +“Cal’s goin’ with me,” explained Searles. + +“Where?” asked Severn vacantly. + +“Out to the Diamond-S.” + +“What for?” + +“To git the two thousand dollars f’r one thing.” + +“Whatcha mean?” + +“Well,” said Searles, yawning widely. “I may be a fool, but I ain’t +no ---- fool. On a job like this I git paid in advance.” + +“Oh, yuh do?” + +Severn spat dryly. + +“You must think I’m somewhat of a fool myself.” + +“Thinkin’ ain’t goin’ to git us nowhere,” declared Searles. “I ain’t +doin’ no credit business with my gun, y’betcha.” + +Severn heaved himself off the couch and secured his sombrero. He was +a trifle unsteady on his legs now. He motioned Searles out of the +door. Maldeen followed them out into the saloon, but Severn did not +stop at the bar. He and Searles went straight to the stable, saddled +their horses and rode out of town. + +Pat Haley, from the porch of his home, saw them ride away and wondered +what would have happened to Searles if Severn knew he was the +tale-bearer. Then Pat Haley looked down at the steps littered with bits +of torn cigaret-papers and at the folds in his shirt bosom, which were +filled with loose tobacco, and shook his head. + +“Smokin’ cigy-reets is not a habit--it’s a accomplishment,” he declared +wearily. + + * * * * * + +Severn and Searles rode slowly along the edge of the low hills, saying +little. Severn’s mind was deeply engaged in trying to puzzle out who +would send that kind of a message to him, while Searles was also doing +quite a lot of wondering himself. Somehow he could not shake the +feeling that Severn knew who delivered that message, and that Severn +was keeping still until he--Searles--had finished the job of getting +rid of Hashknife and Sleepy. + +Searles was a gunman whose ability in that direction was for sale, but +he cared a lot for his own skin and meant to keep it intact. He had +formed no plans for getting rid of the two offensive cowpunchers; but +Jim Searles was not brainy enough to plan out any mode of procedure. + +They were passing the mouth of the gulch which led up to Romaine’s ranch +when Severn whirled his horse aside and shoved Searles’ horse into the +brush beside the road, where they both stopped. + +A horse and rider were coming in from the south, and they were able to +identify the rider as Mary O’Hara. She crossed the road and stopped, +while she looked over the country. It took her perhaps five minutes to +satisfy herself that no one was in sight; then she went on up the road +that led to Romaine’s place. + +Cal Severn laughed aloud and swung back into the road. + +“Where’s she goin’?” queried Searles. + +“To meet Shell Romaine,” grinned Severn, “and we’re goin’ to be there at +the meetin’.” + +“And get a .30-30 bullet in our ribs,” protested Searles, shaking his +head. “Anyway she couldn’t ’a’ had no appointment with Shell Romaine. +Why, he likely ain’t in this country, Severn.” + +“Yo’re crazy!” grunted Severn. “I betcha she meets him at the +ranch-house.” + +“All right, let her meet him.” + +Searles evidently did not care to run into Shell Romaine. Neither did he +want Severn to know that he had met Romaine the day before. + +“How about the reward?” grinned Severn. “Can’t yuh use half of it?” + +“Yeah, I could use the money--if Romaine didn’t see me first.” + +“Yellow, eh?” sneered Severn. “Well, come along, and I’ll take chances +on takin’ him. I’ll get some satisfaction out of it anyway.” + +They turned off the road and went slowly up the gulch, taking plenty +of time, because the road wound through the brush and they were unable +to see any distance ahead. Severn realized that they were taking big +chances, but he had a desire to catch Mary O’Hara with Shell Romaine. + +They came at last to the fringe of the timber and stopped to watch the +ranch-house. There was no sign of Mary O’Hara’s horse, but they knew +she would not leave it in sight. There was no possible way to sneak up +on the house; so Severn decided to go boldly up, taking a chance on +being seen. Searles demurred. He did not want a soft-nose bullet mixed +up in his carcass; but when Severn started for the house, Searles rode +up behind him. + +They dismounted at the rickety porch and stood still. There was a +soft murmur of voices coming from the rear of the house, and Severn +grinned widely as he heard Mary’s voice. He knew that there was sort +of a lean-to at the rear, and it was likely that this was where Mary +had taken her horse. + +He motioned to Searles for silence and led the way around the house, +flattening themselves against the wall, with guns ready. Near the door +of the lean-to they stopped. The voices were clearer now and Mary was +saying-- + +“--said he met you; so I came.” + +“Yes,” said Romaine. “I sent that message, Mary. I knew that you loved +Cal Severn, and I was going to see that he played fair with you as far +as I was able.” + +Severn’s lips curled in a sneer. Now he knew who had sent the message. + +“But it doesn’t matter now,” said Mary. “I am not going to marry Cal +Severn. I had made up my mind not to, and that message only strengthened +my resolve. He accused me of meeting you in the hills that day, Shell.” + +“Did he? Where was he, Mary?” + +“I don’t know. Do you remember seeing those two strange cowboys with +him? One of them asked me what Cal and I quarreled about, and he asked +it in such a way that I just had to tell him.” + +“Who are they, Mary?” + +“Hartley and Stevens. The tall one, who looks like he was just going to +laugh, told me that they didn’t do much except to make smiles come where +smiles belong.” + +“Well, that’s kinda funny,” observed Shell Romaine. “It ain’t such a bad +business either if yuh stop to think it over.” + +“I can’t stay long,” said Mary. “It took me quite a while to get here, +because I went around through the hills.” + +“It sure was mighty good of yuh,” said Shell; “but I’m afraid +somebody’ll see yuh and look at it all wrong. Mebbe yuh better not +come ag’in’.” + +They stepped out of the lean-to, and Shell Romaine looked square into +the muzzle of Cal Severn’s six-shooter. Searles stepped around and +covered him with his gun while he took Romaine’s gun from his holster. + +“The pitcher went too often to the well,” grinned Severn. “Much obliged +to yuh, Mary. Yuh sure kept him interested.” + +Romaine turned and looked searchingly at Mary, who was staring at +Severn. + +“Never trust a woman,” advised Severn. “They sure make a fool out of +yuh, Romaine.” + +“Did you lead them to me, Mary?” + +Romaine’s lips were white at the very thought of being trapped through +the girl. + +“My God--no!” gasped Mary. “Lead Cal Severn?” + +“You can stop yore lyin’, Severn,” said Romaine. “I’m takin’ her word +for it.” + +Severn laughed. + +“All right, Shell. I didn’t say that we framed on yuh, did I? No, we +just followed her, thassall.” + +“Well, whatcha goin’ to do?” + +“Take yuh to Moon Flats and hand yuh to the sheriff. He ain’t got guts +enough to take yuh, but he may be able to keep yuh in jail.” + +“Bring the horses,” ordered Severn, “and hog-tie this gentleman, +Searles.” + +It took Searles only a short time to rope Romaine to the saddle of +Severn’s horse. Searles’ horse was not broke to ride double. Mary stood +aside and watched the operation. She was sick at heart over it all, and +blamed herself for Romaine’s capture. + +“You ain’t to blame, Mary,” Romaine assured her, ignoring Severn and +Searles. “You forget that part of it. I knew they’d get me some day, +but I hoped it wouldn’t be for a while.” + +“Why did yuh hope that?” queried Severn, testing the ropes with a +vicious yank. + +“That,” said Romaine slowly, “is none of your business, you coyote!” + +Severn laughed up at him mockingly. + +“Sore because yuh thought I was cuttin’ in on yore Injun girl, eh?” + +Romaine’s eyes flashed to Mary, seeking to find what she thought of +Severn’s accusation, but she had turned her back on them and was +mounting her horse. Severn swung on behind Romaine, turned the horse +around and rode away, with Searles bringing up the rear. At the fringe +of the brush they looked back, but Mary O’Hara was not following them; +she was taking the shorter cut across the hills toward the river. + +“You’ve butted in on my game about all yo’re goin’ to, Romaine,” stated +Severn. “I reckon yo’re goin’ to make a long trip and stay quite a +while.” + +“Does kinda look thataway,” admitted Romaine, and turned his head toward +Searles. “I reckon you delivered my message, Jim. Much obliged.” + +“Message?” + +Severn looked at Searles wonderingly. He did not know just what Romaine +was talking about at first, but it suddenly flashed through his mind +that Jim Searles was the one who had told Mary and Pat Haley. + +Searles’ right hand had dropped to his thigh and was still concealed, +although his right elbow was bent almost at right-angles. Severn noted +all this, and that Searles was watching him closely. + +“So you was the one that brought the message, eh?” + +“Yeah, I brought it.” + +“Well,” easily, “it don’t make no difference, but yuh might ’a’ told me +instead of Pat Haley.” + +“Well, I didn’t know you was still in town,” defended Searles, “and I +knowed that Pat would be glad to hear that Romaine was still around +here.” + +“Let it drop,” advised Severn, “and that other proposition still +stands.” + +“Y’betcha,” nodded Searles. + + * * * * * + +Henry Horsecollar Dryden had gone dumbly about his work after Searles +had left the Diamond-S. Never before had he realized just how much he +did think of Marie Wicks, and his soul was filled with sadness and +self-pity. He was not mad at Severn for taking advantage of him, but +he was mad at himself for being weak enough to let Severn keep him at +home, while Severn himself courted Marie. + +And Severn had one girl already. Wasn’t one girl enough? + +Later on Henry saddled his horse and rode down to the hill above Wicks’ +ranch-house. It was dark in the hills, but there was a light in the +ranch-house. For a long time Henry debated over going down, but finally +turned around and went back to the ranch, where he talked with Mrs. +Wicks. + +“Is Cal Severn going to marry Marie?” he asked in the Nez Percé tongue. + +“He has said it,” replied the old squaw. “We will have many ponies and +much to eat in the Winter.” + +“He is going to marry a girl in Moon Flats.” + +“That is a lie. A white man can have only one squaw.” + +“He may have many sweethearts.” + +For a long time the old squaw deliberated. This was a new angle, which +she had never considered. Then-- + +“The girl in Moon Flats will be the sweetheart.” + +“Since when did a white man marry a squaw and leave a white sweetheart?” + +“You lie in your heart!” grated the squaw, knowing that Henry spoke the +truth. + +“Cal Severn brings whisky to Joe Wicks to steal away his sight,” +declared Henry. “Since when could a drunken man tell right from wrong? +Cal Severn hired you to cook for him because he knew that you would not +drink whisky and forget to look. Ask your own heart if I lie.” + +The old squaw looked intently into Henry’s face as if trying to read +the reasons for this disclosure, but he did not turn away under her +stare. She stared down at her gnarled hands for a full minute, like a +bronze statue under the yellow light from the oil lamp. Then she got +to her feet, flung a shawl around her shoulders and went out. + +Henry went to the door and watched her going down the white ribbon +of road in the misty light, a blurred figure that faded out and was +gone. For a long time he stood in the doorway, gazing off across the +shadowy hills, listening to the calling of a sleepy bird. From back +in the trees an owl hooted softly. + +“Funny thing,” mused Henry aloud. “I never knowed I was so smart until +I got to talkin’ Nez Percé to the old squaw. I sure know a lot of +things--and mebbe some of ’em is goin’ to get me killed off. I reckon +I’ll go to bed.” + +But Henry did not sleep. For once in his life his mind was too active +to woo slumber, and he marveled at the things he could think about, +and by thinking he built up a great anger against Cal Severn. It was +like starting a small snowball at the top of a hill; it grew until it +was a force to be reckoned with. + +He unearthed a Winchester rifle from beneath his bunk and put in an hour +cleaning and oiling it. His six-shooter received the same treatment. He +filled his belt with ammunition for both guns. + +Daylight came, and Henry cooked his own breakfast with a six-shooter +hanging at his hip and the rifle lying across the kitchen table. He +wondered what had become of Hashknife and Sleepy, but always his mind +reverted back to Marie Wicks. + +He waited until afternoon, but Cal Severn did not show up; so he saddled +his horse, slung the rifle in a scabbard under his right leg, and rode +toward Wicks’ ranch. Something seemed to tell Henry that trouble was +brewing, but he did not mind. + +He rode up to the ranch-house and dismounted. Joe Wicks was sitting on +the steps, dirty, disheveled, but apparently sober. + +“Hyah, Joe,” said Henry. + +“Yo’ go to ----!” grunted Joe without looking at him. + +Joe’s face still bore the marks of Henry’s fist. + +Mrs. Wicks came to the door and looked at Henry, who nodded to her. + +“W’at yo’ want?” asked Joe. + +“Nothin’ from you,” said Henry, and then to the squaw. “Can I see +Marie?” + +“She is very sad,” replied the squaw in her own tongue. + +She could speak a little English, but it was much easier to talk in her +own language. + +“Yo’ go ’way,” growled Joe. “This place no good for yo’; +yo’ ---- right.” + +“Be still!” hissed the old squaw. “Whisky has stolen away your brains, +and you are like an old dog without teeth and without sense; a dog that +can only bark at its own shadow or howl at the moon.” + +“I reckon that’ll hold yuh,” said Henry, but without a trace of humor in +his voice. + +“She is very sad and does not believe,” continued Mrs. Wicks. “We have +not slept.” + +“You ain’t got nothin’ on me,” declared Henry. “Cal Severn did not come +home. The other two are still away.” + +“They are good men,” said Mrs. Wicks. + +“I am only a squaw, but they are to me like to one of my own color.” + +“Yeah, they’re all right,” admitted Henry; “but they gave me some bad +advice.” + +“W’at’s the matter with yo’?” growled Joe. “Nobody ask yo’ to come +here.” + +Henry ignored him and looked appealingly at the squaw. + +“Can’t I see Marie?” + +For a moment she hesitated and then pointed toward the rear of the +house. + +“Yo’ ---- right yo’ can’t see Marie!” grunted Joe; but Henry shoved him +back on the steps. + +“You horn into my business and I’ll bend a gun over yore head,” +threatened Henry, and walked around the corner. + +Joe relapsed back to his former position and said nothing, while the old +squaw sat down beside him with her hands in her lap, staring into space. + +Marie was sitting on the ground against an old cottonwood-tree when +Henry came around the house, and started to get to her feet; but Henry +motioned for her to sit down. He came up to her and leaned against the +tree. + +“Why did you come here?” she asked. + +“I had to come,” he replied. + +“Why?” + +“I wanted to ask yuh a question, Marie. Did Cal Severn ever ask yuh to +marry him?” + +Marie dropped her eyes and began fingering her faded apron. + +“No,” she said after several moments of silence. + +“Didn’t he make love to yuh?” + +“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said defiantly. + +“Don’tcha?” softly. “I’m kinda sorry, ’cause I sure want to talk to you, +Marie.” + +“You lie,” she said wearily. “You talk nice to me and then laugh about +me to other people.” + +“What do yuh mean?” demanded Henry. + +“You know what I mean. You laugh and say I am jus’ an Injun girl to play +with. You not care for me, you say.” + +Henry’s lips tightened and he looked down at the top of her head. + +“Marie, did Cal Severn say that?” + +“Yes.” + +“Good God!” exploded Henry. “Looky here! Do yuh think I’d say that? Do +yuh? Am I that kind of a coyote?” + +“You are a white man; I am an Indian girl.” + +“That ain’t no answer. Do yuh love Cal Severn?” + +“I don’ know what I love. Everybody lie to me.” + +Marie threw out both arms. + +“I believe nobody now.” + +“Marie, will yuh marry me?” + +Henry leaned closer and put his hand on her shoulder. + +“I never lied to yuh.” + +“How do I know?” she asked, looking up at him. + +“That’s right.” + +Henry straightened up and shoved himself away from the tree. + +“My word ain’t no better than Cal Severn’s now, but mebbe I can make it +better. Yuh don’t hate me, do yuh, Marie?” + +“I don’t hate nobody--jus’ sorry.” + +“Somebody is goin’ to be with yuh on that sorry idea,” declared Henry, +and walked back to his horse. + +Joe Wicks glared at him, but said nothing. Mrs. Wicks nodded solemnly, +and Henry tipped his wide hat to her as he turned his horse and galloped +down the road. + +Back at the cottonwood-tree Marie turned her head and watched him ride +away. He had asked her to marry him, but had never given her a chance +to accept or reject the proposal. White people were queer folks, she +thought, and many of them were liars. + + * * * * * + +Hashknife and Sleepy came straight back from Sula, but did not turn on +to the Diamond-S road. For once in his life Hashknife rode for miles +in silence, his forehead puckered in a heavy frown in the shade of his +sombrero. + +Sleepy was content with silence. He knew that there was no use in +questioning Hashknife, and gentle sarcasm failed to bring a retort +from the tall cowboy. + +Where the road from Joe Wicks’ place joined the main road they met +Henry Horsecollar, who came at a swift gallop out of the brush-lined +road. They noted the display of firearms and wondered what had struck +Henry. + +“Howdy, Henry,” greeted Hashknife. “Goin’ to town?” + +Henry nodded and rode in beside them. Hashknife looked curiously at the +rifle sticking out from beneath the right saddle fender and at Henry’s +low-swung Colt. + +“Kinda loaded for bear, ain’t yuh?” queried Sleepy. + +“Coyote,” corrected Henry shortly. + +Hashknife whistled softly. This was a different Henry from him whom +they had known at the Diamond-S, and he wondered what had happened. +But neither of them questioned him further. If he was gunning for +some one it was none of their business, and the less they knew about +it the better for all concerned. + +“How’s things at the ranch?” asked Sleepy. + +“Aw right,” grunted Henry, never taking his eyes off the road. + +“Hangin’ on to his nerve,” thought Hashknife. “Don’t want to talk for +fear of gettin’ off the main idea.” + +By mutual consent they swept into a gallop riding knee to knee. +Hashknife noted the set angle of Henry’s lower jaw; it rather belied +the rest of his bony angular body. Still there was force in that +body. The smash he had delivered on Joe Wicks’ jaw proved that. All +Henry had lacked was nerve, and Hashknife wondered if something had +happened to cause Henry to find himself. + +About a mile out of town another rider came down off the hills and +into the road going toward Moon Flats. It was Mary O’Hara. She glanced +back anxiously as they rode up to her and they noticed that there were +tear-streaks on her dusty cheeks. + +“They caught Shell Romaine!” she blurted. “Cal Severn and Jim Searles +are taking him to Moon Flats.” + +“Well, whatcha know about that?” grunted Hashknife. “Tell us about it, +will yuh, Miss O’Hara?” + +In a few words Mary described the capture; how she had unwittingly led +them to him. She seemed to blame herself for everything. + +“Yuh can’t beat that, can yuh?” said Hashknife sadly. “I reckon we +better mosey on to town and kinda find out all the latest news.” + +As they started on Hashknife drew in beside Mary. + +“How’s all the sick folks at yore house?” + +“Splinter’s fever is bad and Mort Lee has never been conscious except +for a few minutes at a time. He talks all the time, but the doctor says +he will get well.” + +“Talks all the time--kinda crazy-like?” + +Mary nodded and brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. + +“Yes. He raves about old man Romaine’s shirt sleeve. Isn’t that queer?” + +“Yeah, it is--kinda,” admitted Hashknife. “Funny thing to talk about, +y’betcha. And what else seems to bother him?” + +Mary smiled and shook her head. + +“It’s mostly the shirt sleeve, but sometimes he rambles about a suit +that he did not see. It bothers him a lot, it seems.” + +“Black suit?” queried Hashknife quickly. + +“Yes--a black suit. Uncle Pat has tried to make head or tail out of his +conversation, but is unable to get it connected enough to make sense.” + +Hashknife grinned widely and shifted himself in his saddle. + +“Let’s shake ’em up a little, folks. I’ve got a hunch that somebody is +settin’ on about a ton of dynamite and the fuse is gettin’ short.” + +The four horses broke into a gallop down the dusty road with Hashknife +slightly in the lead, frowning deeply as he contemplated just what to +do. + +Into Moon Flats they came at a stiff gallop. In front of Bill Eagles’ +store was a crowd of men, some mounted but most of them on foot. There +seemed to be a heated argument in progress. Several small groups of men +had seemingly drawn away from the main crowd, and were holding their own +arguments. + +The four riders drew up at the edge of the sidewalk, but no one gave +them any heed. Looking over the heads of the crowd they could see +Shell Romaine, still bound, leaning up against the wall, while near +him were Cal Severn, Jim Searles and Bill Eagles. Bill was arguing +with voice and arms. + +Hashknife leaned down and tapped a cowboy on the shoulder. + +“What’s the trouble?” queried Hashknife. + +The excited cowboy grasped a porch-post and jerked his head toward the +center of the group. + +“They captured Shell Romaine a while ago.” + +“Why don’t they put him in jail?” + +“Splinter See died an hour ago, and Pat Haley ain’t in town. I reckon +they’re goin’ to lynch Romaine.” + +Hashknife turned in his saddle and put his hand on Mary’s arm. + +“Get away from here, miss,” he ordered. “You better go home, I think.” + +“But they can’t lynch him!” hoarsely. “They wouldn’t dare do that.” + +“Will yuh go away?” queried Hashknife sharply. “You can’t help him, and +yo’re in the way if somethin’ busts.” + +Something in Hashknife’s homely face told her that her interests would +be well protected, and with a half-sob she spurred her horse away from +the crowd and went slowly down the street. + +Bill Eagles was still arguing mightily, and it appeared that he was in +favor of waiting for the law. But his arguments seemed only to bring a +laugh of derision. A man came out of the store carrying a length of new +rope and handed it to Severn. + +“I don’t _sabe_ the right kind of a knot,” said Severn, holding the rope +out to the crowd. + +Maldeen shoved his way in and took the rope. + +“I know how to make it,” he stated, and began making the loop. + +Shell Romaine watched him coldly. There was no hint of fear in his +eyes. Hashknife deliberately turned his horse around and rode it on to +the board sidewalk, almost riding over those on the outskirts of the +crowd, who broke away at the clattering hoofs, giving him an opening +to the center. + +All eyes shifted from the main point of interest and centered upon +Hashknife, towering above them. + +“Get that bronc to ---- out of here!” snarled Severn. + +Maldeen stopped looping his rope and stepped back as if afraid Hashknife +was going to ride straight over him. + +“Right sweet little party yuh got here,” grinned Hashknife. “Keep right +on makin’ that knot, Maldeen; we’ll likely need it.” + +“What you hornin’ in fer?” queried a grizzled cowman who had moved +aside. “This any funeral of yours?” + +“Brother, yuh never can tell,” grinned Hashknife. “Fate is a queer +jasper; don’tcha know it?” + +Henry Horsecollar had pulled the Winchester out of its scabbard and was +holding it in the crook of his elbow. + +“Henry Horsecollar’s got a gun!” grunted a cowboy wonderingly. + +Severn’s eyes snapped to Henry and found his hired man’s eyes looking +directly at him. He started to say something, but there was something +about Henry’s expression that caused him to withhold his words. + +“You aimin’ to hang Shell Romaine, ain’tcha?” queried Hashknife softly. + +“That ain’t none of yore ---- business!” snapped Jim Searles angrily, +while the crowd shifted. + +They knew the temper of Searles, and it had begun to appear that trouble +was brewing. + +“Yo’re Jim Searles, ain’tcha?” + +Hashknife did not seem to resent Searles’ rebuke. + +“Yo’re the jasper that identified Shell Romaine in that Sula bank +robbery. Now what I want to know is how much did they pay yuh for +identifyin’ Shell Romaine?” + +“What in ---- do you mean?” rasped Searles. + +“Think it over, Searles,” grinned Hashknife. “Talkin’ real fast and +tellin’ the truth might help yuh out.” + +“I dunno what in ---- yuh mean,” faltered Searles; but a hunted look had +come into his eyes. + +He tried to keep his eyes upon Hashknife, but they grew watery, as if he +had strained them badly, and he turned away. + +“What’s all this about, pardner?” queried Bill Eagles. + +“A lot of things. Me and my pardner came here for the purpose of tryin’ +to find where Shell Romaine planted his share of that Sula robbery. They +had him let out on parole and sent us in to trail him. + +“Things kinda broke bad for our purpose, yuh know, and we just +pesticated around, lookin’ over things. I got to wonderin’ if things +were just like folks thought they was. Funny what a feller will find +out if he keeps his eyes and ears open.” + +“Say, let’s get this job over,” snorted Severn. “This ain’t no time to +listen to a long-winded lecture.” + +“This ain’t goin’ to be so awful long,” said Hashknife, “and I’d kinda +like to talk it over, if yuh don’t mind.” + +“Pardner, yo’re talkin’,” said Bill Eagles. “They wouldn’t listen to +me.” + +“It’s a scheme to delay things, by ----!” declared Maldeen. “He’s tryin’ +to stall until Haley gets back.” + +“Go ahead and talk, feller,” said the grizzled old cowman. “Get her down +to brass tacks.” + +“Thank yuh kindly,” said Hashknife. “I won’t make it long, but I’m +bettin’ it’ll be interestin’. Now about the stage holdup. Maldeen, you +was there, wasn’t yuh?” + +“You know ---- well I was!” snapped Maldeen. + +“You and Jim Searles drove down from Sula, didn’t yuh?” + +“Yes.” + +“What time did yuh leave there, Maldeen?” + +“I dunno. I reckon it was the usual leavin’ time; wasn’t it, Jim?” + +Jim Searles glanced at Maldeen and at Hashknife, but did not speak. His +mind was beginning to run in circles. + +“Then yuh got held up at Medicine Creek,” continued Hashknife, and +added, “by the Black Rider.” + +Maldeen nodded, but did not speak. + +“He came out of the brush and tried to stop yuh, but Searles got the +drop on him. Searles got down and went over to where the old man was +lyin’ in the brush with one hand and arm stickin’ up, didn’t he?” + +Maldeen squinted blankly, but nodded. + +“Yeah, I reckon that’s right; but I don’t see----” + +“And then Mort Lee came down the creek trail and busted right in on +yuh. Searles was on the ground with the shotgun in his hands. He had +looked at the old man and was comin’ back to the stage when Mort rode +into yuh.” + +Maldeen half-smiled and cleared his throat. + +“You sure got a good description of it, feller.” + +“Mort Lee didn’t go over and look at the old man. You and Searles +explained it all to him and told him to ride like ---- to Moon Flats +and tell the sheriff that they had killed the Black Rider. Ain’t that +right?” + +Maldeen and Searles exchanged glances before Maldeen nodded. + +“I wanted to get that all straight,” grinned Hashknife. “And now I +want to tell yuh that old man Romaine rode a horse down to within a +couple of hundred yards of that spot, where the horse broke its leg +in a gopher-hole and the old man had to shoot it.” + +This was something new, and it seemed to interest every one. Even Shell +Romaine leaned forward and stared at Hashknife. + +“How do yuh know it was his horse?” queried Eagles. + +“Still got his saddle and bridle on, and the horse is branded on the +right hip with a Box-R.” + +“I dunno where that means anythin’,” sneered Severn. “Suppose he did +have a horse--what about it?” + +“The Black Rider was supposed to be right smart, wasn’t he? Would a +smart man shoot his horse and go right ahead and pull a holdup?” + +“That’s a ---- of an argument!” laughed Maldeen. “Who knows what a man +will do in a case like that?” + +“Yeah, I’ll admit that human bein’s ain’t built to run to form,” agreed +Hashknife. “But there’s another little point to be covered; Mort Lee +only seen the hand and arm of old Rim-Fire Romaine, but that arm was not +clad in a black coat sleeve. + +“Mort Lee told yuh that, didn’t he, Severn?” queried Hashknife as the +crowd fell silent. “Wasn’t that why yuh kicked his hat?” + +“By ----, I don’t know what yuh mean,” replied Severn, and his voice was +almost a whine. + +“Mort Lee wanted to find Shell Romaine and tell him about it,” said +Hashknife, guessing real fast. “He had to tell somebody, and when he +couldn’t find Shell he came out to the Diamond-S, sampled your whisky +and talked to you about it, Severn.” + +Severn took a half-step ahead, and his right hand fell to his side. + +“I don’t know what yo’re talkin’ about, Hartley. You talk like +a ---- fool!” + +“All right,” grinned Hashknife. “Mebbe I am. Anyway I’m only telling +what Lee told yuh, and he got shot over a seven-up game. Now we know +that old man Romaine wasn’t wearin’ that black suit when he was +shot.” + +“Wait a minute,” interrupted Bill Eagles wonderingly. “Lemme get that +straight, will yuh? If old Romaine----” + +“That’s ---- foolishness!” roared Searles. + +“Y’betcha!” snapped Hashknife. “Keep on listenin’. Me and my pardner +went down to Romaine’s ranch-house and got bushwhacked. I got peeled +on the shoulder, and both of our horses got shot. I’m goin’ to ask +Cal Severn where he was at that time. That was the day we hired out +to yuh, Severn.” + +“Where was I?” + +Severn tried to appear at ease. + +“Why, I was there at my ranch.” + +“Then how did yuh know that Mary O’Hara met Shell Romaine on the narrow +trail at the head of Broken Gulch?” + +Severn’s teeth shut with a click, and he leaned forward, his face filled +with righteous wrath. + +“You keep her name out of this!” + +“That don’t answer my question, does it? You never stopped to think that +you put yoreself in bad when yuh accused her of meetin’ Shell Romaine.” + +Hashknife grinned pityingly and shook his head as his eyes shifted from +the crowd and saw the bartender standing in behind two other men. + +“Soapy’s lookin’ on,” observed Hashknife. “I thought that Maldeen was +just a ordinary tin-horn gambler until I seen who his bartender was. +Birds of a feather.” + +“Now is that all yuh got to say?” demanded Searles. + +“Shucks, I’m just startin’; and I want to say right now that any nervous +hands annoy me. When I see fingers itchin’ to pull a gun--I scratch +’em.” + +“I’ve heard about all I care to from you!” snarled Maldeen. “I don’t +know where yuh got all these fool ideas, and I don’t care. You’ve gone +far enough.” + +“Thasso?” + +Hashknife seemed hurt. + +“Why, I ain’t no more than scratched the surface, Maldeen; and you know +it as well as I do.” + +“I don’t know a ---- thing about it!” + +“Then listen.” + +Hashknife’s smile faded, and he leaned forward in his saddle. + +“It kinda looked like Shell Romaine was the one that killed our horses, +didn’t it? All right. We wasn’t so far from the shooter that he couldn’t +have seen that we were strangers. He had no reason for shootin’ us. + +“Shell Romaine did not know that me and my pardner were over here to +try and put the deadwood on him and get back that money. There were +only two men beside me and my pardner who did know, and Pat Haley was +here in Moon Flats. Cal Severn knew----” + +“What in ---- are yuh drivin’ at!” yelled Severn. “Don’tcha try to hang +anythin’----” + +“Don’t incriminate yoreself,” interrupted Hashknife. “Who knew that we +were goin’ back there after our saddles? Pat Haley and Splinter See came +huntin’ for Shell Romaine, and See got shot. Shell Romaine did not fire +those shots. Not by a ---- sight! Splinter See is about my size----” + +Severn’s face was black with rage, but his eyes shifted from side to +side, like a trapped animal looking for an exit. + +“Keep goin’, pardner!” panted Bill Eagles. + +“That’s a lie, ---- yuh!” snarled Severn. “You’re tryin’ to stall until +Pat Haley gets here, thassall.” + +“About thirteen months ago you needed money, Severn,” continued +Hashknife. “You wanted a certain girl, and you heard that she was +engaged to a certain young man. You had a fight with him and he +whipped yuh. Then you framed to send him to the penitentiary and to +get a lot of money for yoreself. + +“Don’t get sore, Severn. You’ve got your misdeeds to face God with +anyway, so yuh might as well face men.” + +Maldeen moved a step away from Severn as if giving him plenty of room, +forgetting that he was included in the accusations. Searles swayed on +his feet like a drunken man, fingering his belt with nervous hands. + +“Now about that express robbery,” said Hashknife thoughtfully. “That +was kinda clever. The robber got off near Clevis Creek and went across +to the main road. He kept his black suit. He packed a valise to hold +his extra clothes and the money. + +“The stage came along, and he got on. That part of it was all fixed, +but the meetin’ with old Romaine wasn’t part of the scheme. The old +man’s horse broke its leg and had to be shot. The old man knowed +that the stage was about due, so he waited for it, intendin’ to ride +home.” + +Maldeen stared at Hashknife, mouth half-open. In fact, the whole crowd +seemed bereft of motion or speech. + +“That poker game was a clever scheme to give Cal Severn his share of the +express robbery, and nobody would wonder where he got so much money. +Maldeen was the Black Rider, and you and him robbed the Sula bank over a +year ago, and----” + +“That’s a lie!” screamed Severn, and his hand snapped to his gun; but +Shell Romaine, bound as he was, toppled into him, knocking him +half-way to his knees, and his wide-flung gun went off almost against +Jim Searles. + +Maldeen flung himself backward into the crowd, drawing a gun from under +his long coat, while men collided with each other in a mad rush to get +out of danger. + +From behind Hashknife came the roar of a revolver, and he saw the +soap-painting bartender stumble into the street and fall flat on his +face, his gun spinning out of his hand. Sleepy was not overlooking +any details. + +Maldeen’s first shot knocked the hat off the grizzled old cowman, and +the second one went into the top of the porch. Hashknife was unable to +shoot for fear of hitting a bystander, and Maldeen was unable to shoot +accurately on account of them. + +Searles was down on his hands and knees, paying no attention to any one, +a smudge of smoke coming from his shirt, where Severn’s accidental shot +had set it on fire. + +Severn had recovered his balance, flung Shell Romaine aside, and without +firing a shot whirled and darted into the open door of the store. Came +the crash of boots on the sidewalk as Henry Horsecollar vaulted from his +horse, and a moment later he darted through the cross-fire between +Hashknife and Maldeen and dived into the open door after Cal Severn. + +It was all happening in a few short seconds--a fraction of the time +taken in the telling. Maldeen’s backward rush had taken him to the +wall beside a narrow alley, and Sleepy smashed a bullet into the wall +beside his ear. As he whirled to return the fire, Hashknife fired his +first shot. + +Maldeen jerked back from the shock of the heavy bullet, spun around and +stumbled into the alley, just as Sleepy darted across the sidewalk and +dived into him, like a football player making a flying tackle. Together +they crashed down out of sight. + +Men were running away from the shooting, never realizing that the +danger was all over. Searles was still on his hands and knees, and +near him, sitting on the sidewalk, braced against his bound elbows, +was Shell Romaine. + +Sleepy backed out of the alley and stumbled toward Hashknife, panting +triumphantly-- + +“He ain’t goin’ no place, Hashknife!” + +Pat Haley was coming up the street, running in his queer, bow-legged +way, a sawed-off shotgun in his hands, while behind him came Mary +O’Hara. + +“My Gawd, what happened!” he gasped. “Ah!” + +He looked at the bartender, lying flat on his face in the street, and at +Searles. He gave Romaine a quick glance and turned to Hashknife. + +“Maldeen’s in the alley,” said Sleepy wearily, “and he’s still wearin’ +his boots.” + +“Where’s Severn?” + +Searles dropped on one elbow and looked at them with lack-luster eyes. + +“He shot me, didn’t he? I knew he would some day. Where are you, +Hartley?” + +He tried to grin, but only his lips responded. + +“I can’t see yuh very plain, Hartley, but I want yuh to know that +your story was all true, except that the killin’ of old Romaine was a +accident. It fit our plans fine though.” + +Searles licked his dry lips and took a deep breath. + +“Mort Lee told Severn about not seeing--that--black--suit. +Shell--Romaine--and--his--old--man--never--done--nothin’.” + +“He died clean,” breathed Haley. “Clean.” + +Came the sound of some one stumbling down the alley, and Henry +Horsecollar came into view. He waved out to them, almost falling over +the body of Jim Searles. His hair was matted with blood, and his shirt +was completely torn from his body, which was bruised and cut in many +places. + +He shoved the gory mop of hair out of his eyes, stared at them for a +moment and then stumbled out into the street, where his horse was +standing on the bridle-reins. + +Men came out and stood around him as he tried to mount, but Henry did +not mind having an audience. Hashknife went out and took him by the arm. + +“Where’s Severn?” + +Henry blinked and shook his head drunkenly. + +“I can’t prove nothin’ by him now,” he muttered. “He lied to Marie about +me, and now I can’t prove--that--he--lied--not--by--him.” + +Henry drew a hand across his bloody face and began to cry bitterly. +Hashknife flung one arm across his shoulders and patted him on the back. + +“Cheer up, Henry. By golly, I’ll tell her, and I’ll bet she’ll believe +me.” + +“Will yuh?” + +Henry lifted his head and peered into Hashknife’s eyes. He stared at the +crowd, but they meant nothing to him. + +“If yuh will, Hartley, there’s a chance that she will believe it, ’cause +yuh sure can talk and make it sound true.” + +Hashknife grinned and turned to Haley. + +“Yuh can turn Shell Romaine loose, Pat, and shift all this crime where +it belonged. I dunno how much the bank will recover, but that don’t +interest me right now.” + +Pat Haley, with only part understanding, went over with Mary O’Hara and +cut the bonds from Shell Romaine. He and Mary looked into each other’s +eyes for a moment, and both turned to Hashknife. + +“I don’t reckon there’s anythin’ I can say to yuh that would fit the +case, Hartley,” said Romaine slowly. “It ain’t somethin’ that a feller +can put into words.” + +“Tell it to Mary,” said Hashknife seriously. “And I’d like to see yuh +both grin.” + +Mary turned away, her eyes filling with tears. Shell Romaine tried to +speak; but his throat contracted, and he turned away. Then they started +down the street hand in hand, going to Mary’s home. + +“Looky!” said Sleepy hoarsely. + +Henry Horsecollar had mounted and was riding slowly up the street, going +back to Marie Wicks. + +They stood there, watching Mary and Romaine going one way and Henry +going the other. + +Pat Haley was standing near them, starting to roll a cigaret; his eyes +blinking suspiciously fast. Perhaps some flakes of tobacco had blown +into his eyes. Hashknife grinned softly, and Pat Haley lifted his +head. He glanced down the street, where Mary and Romaine were turning +in at the gate, and in the opposite direction, where Henry Horsecollar +was fading out down the dusty road, and shook his head slowly. + +Then he squinted at Hashknife and said: + +“Hartley, ye’re a wonder, so ye are. Ye have done a world of good for +deservin’ folks. + +“Tramp cowboys, I’ve heard them call ye. If ye are, the title is an +honor. Ye have done much for the Mission range, so ye have, and I’m +wonderin’ if ye’d do somethin’ for me.” + +“Yo’re danged right we will, Pat!” exclaimed Hashknife seriously. “What +is it?” + +“Will ye roll me a cigaret?” + + +[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the February 28, 1923 issue +of Adventure magazine.] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78727 *** |