diff options
Diffstat (limited to '78756-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 78756-0.txt | 3803 |
1 files changed, 3803 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/78756-0.txt b/78756-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1396dac --- /dev/null +++ b/78756-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3803 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78756 *** + + SUN-DOG TRAILS + + W. C. Tuttle + + Author of “Hashknife--Philanthropist,” + “The Devil’s Dooryard,” etc. + + +An observer might have said that it was cruelty to animals to drive a +team at high speed over such roads. Perhaps the two men, sitting on +the seat of the swaying lumber-wagon, might have replied that it was +cruelty to human beings for a team to act in that hurried manner. +There was no question but what the team of pinto horses had taken the +matter into their own hands--or rather feet--and the two men had +nothing to say about it. + +The equipage swept around the curving grade, skidding and bouncing, +while the two men clung to the sides of the seat, staring straight +ahead. + +Suddenly they whirled around another curve, the wheels of the +lumber-wagon spinning dangerously near to the outer end of the grade, +and just ahead of them, blocking the road, stood a stage-coach and +four horses, headed in the same direction as the runaway. The +sharpness of the curve and a strong wind blowing down the cañon had +effectively masked the approach of the runaway, and there was no time +for either man to jump nor for any of the people at the stage to get +out of the road. + +At the side of the coach stood a woman. Just beyond her stood a +masked man, rifle in hand. The driver was humped on his seat, lines +held between his knees, while another masked man stood on the hub of +a front wheel tugging at a heavy iron box which was partly wedged +under the seat. The two men saw all this in a flash, and then the +runaway team crashed into the rear of the stage. + +The force of the impact drove the tongue of the wagon into the flimsy +body of the stage, whirling it half-around and turning it off the grade; +the four horses rearing and plunging as they whirled off the road and +went down the sharp embankment. + +The pinto team was flung sidewise, jackknifing with the stage; the +wagon, going sidewise, caught in the deep rut and turned completely +over, following the wrecked stage off the grade. + +The two men were thrown from the wagon-seat; one of them turning a +complete somersault and landing on his hands and knees against the +upper bank, while the other sprawled in the road, turned over several +times and finally stopped in a sitting position with his legs dangling +over the edge of the grade. + +The one at the side of the bank blinked his eyes several times and then +ran his hand through his mop of brick-red hair. Then he got painfully to +his feet, walked to the edge of the grade and looked around. + +The other, a giant of a man at least six feet six inches tall, with a +long, crooked nose and a wide, humorous mouth, retained his position, +except that he took a red-silk handkerchief from his hip pocket and +blew his nose violently. Then he said-- + +“Brick, old Lafe is goin’ to be real put out about them there pintos and +that wagon, y’betcha.” + +The red-head nodded sadly. Then he turned and spat out some sand. + +There was nothing heroic-looking about “Brick” Davidson. His hair was +the color of new-baked bricks, and his thin, sensitive nose was +plentifully besprinkled with freckles. His eyes were very blue and very +ready to search out the humorous things in life. He looked below medium +size, comparing him to the bulk of “Silent” Slade, but Brick was not a +small man. + +He spat out some more sand and looked at Silent. + +“Whatcha drop them lines for?” + +“You argued with me, didn’t yuh?” + +The big man’s tone was querulous. + +“Yuh always argue with me, Brick Davidson, and you know danged well I’ve +gotta gesture.” + +“Gesture!” + +Brick Davidson spat again contemptuously. + +“Gotta, eh? Why didn’t yuh go to a school where they teaches yuh to talk +with your mouth? Write me a note next time, Silent. Floppin’ your arms +like a he-buzzard gittin’ ready to fly don’t convey no thoughts to my +mind.” + +Silent Slade got slowly to his feet and peered down the hill. The stage +had stopped in a clump of jack-pines, and the four stage horses, almost +stripped of harness, had tangled with the limbs of a fallen pine. + +One of the pintos stood near the wrecked wagon, front feet tangled in +lines and neckyoke, kicking viciously at a dangling tug. The other +pinto was unfortunately past kicking at tugs, unless ghost horses wear +harness. + +“Brick!” exclaimed Silent. “Brick, I didn’t see much before the +ca-tas-trophy, but somehow I gets the fool idea that there was a woman +beside the stage.” + +“Whatcha tryin’ to do-o-o! Whatcha tryin’ to do-o-o!” + +A long, lean face--a face that was scratched and dirty, with a long +lock of grizzled hair sticking straight up like an interrogation point, +suddenly appeared from behind a mesquite-bush at the edge of the grade +as its owner scrambled slowly back to the road level. + +He stared at Brick and Silent, and his jaws worked spasmodically as if +trying to loosen something distasteful to his palate. + +“It was thisaway, Limpy,” began Silent. + +“I’d rather hear Davidson tell it,” interrupted Limpy Squires, the +stage-driver. “You kinda alibi yourself before yuh tell anythin’.” + +“There was a woman--” began Silent. + +Limpy turned and looked down toward the wrecked stage; then back at +Silent and Brick, masticating furiously. Brick’s toe described a circle +in the dust as he averted his glance from the old stage-driver. + +Limpy looked back down the hill and Brick stooped swiftly and picked +something off the ground. His sudden motion caused the others to turn, +but they only saw Brick’s hand coming away from his hip pocket, dangling +a package of smoking-tobacco. + +“Yuh ain’t mentioned the hold-up,” remarked Brick. “Have yuh forgot it, +Limpy?” + +Limpy scratched his tousled head, while his tongue explored the interior +of his mouth. Then he nodded. + +“You fellers sure busted up a regular party. I wonder----” + +Limpy slid down the bank toward the stage, and Brick and Silent followed +him. + +Limpy led the way into the thicket and climbed up on one of the front +wheels. He peered under the seat, then got down and limped around to +the other side, where an iron box was lying upside down. + +“They never got it,” grinned Limpy, patting the box with his toe. + +“What’s in it?” + +Brick knelt down and looked at it closely. + +“I dunno. Sent out by the Whippoorwill mine. Danged thing must weigh +about a hundred pounds.” + +“Who was the woman?” asked Brick. + +Limpy rubbed his hands on his hips and squinted at Brick. + +“I ain’t in the habit of asking passengers for their names. She didn’t +do no talkin’, and she wore a veil.” + +“Reckon them there robbers kidnaped her?” + +This from Silent. + +“Kidnaped, ----!” grunted Limpy. “She wasn’t no kid. We’ll have to take +this here box----” + +“Yuh needn’t worry about the box,” said a voice behind them; and they +turned to look into the muzzle of a rifle, backed up by a masked man. + + * * * * * + +The mask was of black material with two eyeholes, and it covered him +from the crown of his hat to below his shoulders. + +The three instinctively put up their hands, and just then the bushes +parted and out stepped another masked man and a masked woman. The +woman’s dress was badly torn, and there was a smear of blood across +her wrist. In her right hand she carried a heavy pistol, while the +man carried a rifle. At a nod from the first man the woman took the +rifle and leveled it at the group, while one of the men appropriated +the pistols from Brick, Silent and Limpy. + +Then the two men picked up the iron box and carried it down the hill +out of sight, while the woman still covered the three men. She made no +motion to follow her companions. Brick shifted his weight to his right +leg and grinned at her. + +“Yuh don’t need to point that at me, sister. It wasn’t my little iron +box.” + +“Nor mine,” added Limpy. “Under the circumstances, I don’t even know +what box yuh refers to.” + +But the woman refused to speak. + +“Never knowed it could be possible,” drawled Silent. “It ain’t noways +reasonable to suppose that a woman can keep from talkin’ thataway. No +offense, ma’am; but are yuh married?” + +The woman seemed to be laughing under her mask, but did not reply. + +“’Cause,” Silent pointed out, “’cause if yuh ain’t---- No, I want to +see your face before I goes further in these here ne-go-ti-a-tions. +Your disposition suits me to a gnat’s eyelash, but I’m kinda finicky +about faces.” + +From down in the timber came a shrill whistle, and the woman turned +and started away, turning her back on the three men. She disappeared +into the brush. + +“Well,” said Brick, “you fellers might as well take your hands down.” + +Silent grinned and lowered his hands. Limpy rubbed his hands together +and masticated viciously, staring at the others. Silent started for +the spot where the woman had entered the brush, but a bullet flupped +past his head and thudded into the body of the coach. From down in the +ravine came the _whang_ of a rifle. + +“No.” Silent shook his head. “No, I reckon I won’t try to make a mash on +her while she’s got a chapey-rone like that.” + +“Held up by a woman,” chuckled Brick. “Sufferin’ sunfish! Next thing yuh +know they’ll be drivin’ stages and----” + +“Go ahead and laugh!” rasped Limpy. “Your hands went as high as mine +did.” + +“Higher,” admitted Brick. “I’m taller than you, Limpy. Let’s each take a +horse and go to Marlin City. Mebbe the sheriff would like to hear about +it.” + +“Whatsa use?” argued Silent. “‘Bunty’ Blair’d never catch any +road-agents.” + +“He’s a elegant sheriff,” nodded Limpy. “Swell-elegant.” + +“You helped elect him,” accused Silent. + +“I didn’t!” snapped Limpy. “I voted for Brick.” + +Brick stopped half-way up the sloping side of the grade and laughed. + +“If yuh did, Limpy, there was crooked work at the polls. I only got +seven votes. Silent, ‘Baldy’ McPherson, Sam Clayton, Bill See, Lafe +Freeman, ‘Happy’ Sinclair and me. Them six was campaignin’ for me, +and I know I voted for myself.” + +Limpy masticated violently. The evidence seemed against him. + +“I kinda thought yuh had a good chance, Brick,” he stated, ignoring +Brick’s implication. “Happy told me that yuh had three hundred votes +pledged.” + +“I did. Election showed me one thing, Limpy.” + +“What?” + +“That there’s three hundred ---- liars in Sun-Dog County.” + +Limpy scratched his nose reflectively and nodded. + +“More’n that, Brick--seven more; only you wasn’t in no position to +discover the other seven.” + +Brick laughed. Brick was always ready to laugh, even if the joke was on +him, and the recent election had surely been a joke--as far as Brick was +concerned. + +It was the first time that there had been a split in the Democrat and +Republican vote in Sun-Dog. Bunty Blair, the fortunate candidate, had +won over Zell Mohr by six votes. + +There was no question but that the Nine Bar Nine outfit and supporters +could have swung the election to Mohr, but there was little choice +between Blair and Mohr. Bunty owned a small horse outfit a few miles +from Marlin City, while Mohr owned a big saloon in Silverton, sixteen +miles west. + +Mohr was a burly, silent man, swarthy as a Mexican, but his nerve had +never been questioned. Bunty, on the other hand, was slight of +physique, prone to alibi himself out of all trouble--and to keep out. +Limpy’s expression, “swell-elegant,” covered Bunty better than any +description. + +Men agreed that Brick Davidson might make a good sheriff--but Lafe +Freeman, owner of the Nine Bar Nine, announced openly in the Dollar +Down Saloon the night before election: + +“No, Brick won’t git elected, and I’ll tell yuh why. He knows too +much for the size of the jail. He’d have to build a bull-pen to hold +the overflow. With Bunty Blair or Zell Mohr on the job we could tear +down the jail and they wouldn’t miss it durin’ their term.” + +Zell Mohr heard this statement but made no reply. Lafe Freeman knew +that Mohr was there, and Mohr knew that Lafe said it for his benefit. +Lafe had notches in his old single-action Colt, and Marlin City knew +how he got them. Therefore, Zell Mohr feigned not to have heard the +statement. + + * * * * * + +The sheriff’s office interior proved that Bunty Blair was +“swell-elegant.” The ages-old reward posters had been torn from the +walls and in their place hung works of art. The subjects of these +framed ornaments were not at all decorous, but they pleased the eyes +of Bunty and his deputy, “Three Star” Hennessey, who affected red +vests and perfume. + +Three Star was ornamental, but very unpractical. His classic features +were marred by an old knife-scar which circled one of his cheeks, and +his nose had come in contact with a heavy object at some past date which +had moved it out of a straight line; but Three Star had decorative ideas +as to raiment, which seemed to satisfy Bunty Blair’s conception of what +a deputy sheriff should wear. + +Easy-chairs had replaced the old whittled relics, and there was little +left to suggest a sheriff’s office except the weather-beaten sign over +the door. The county paid the sheriff the munificent sum of a hundred +dollars per month, which was far too small a sum considering the danger +connected with wearing a star in Sun-Dog County. Sun-Dog was fortunate +in being able to dispose of the office. + +The voters seemed willing to follow the lines of least resistance, and +to elect a sheriff that would do likewise. + +Just now Bunty and Three Star were sitting in the office. Bunty lolled +back in a chair, his feet on the table, half-asleep, while Three Star’s +long nose delved deep into the pages of an ancient magazine. + +Sitting in the doorway, back against one side and feet braced +against the other, was “Harp” Harris, one of Bunty’s hired men. Harp +was of peculiar physique. His shoulders were narrow--so narrow, in +fact, that when he stood upright one noticed that it was a straight +line from the point of his shoulder to hip, and thence down his long +leg to a pair of big feet. A pair of bat-ears extended well out from +his head, completing the straight line from head to heels. His face +was habitually sad; caused, no doubt, by the mental effort of trying +to remember certain tunes. Just now Harp’s two big hands were cupped +around his mouth, from which came the doleful twanging of a +jew’s-harp. While other cowpunchers soothed their nerves with +cigarets, Harp relaxed over the vibrating little instrument. + +Suddenly he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and stared up the +street. + +“Somethin’,” stated Harp, turning to Three Star, “somethin’ has come to +pass.” + +Up to the hitch-rack came Brick, Silent and Limpy, all mounted on +harnessed horses and leading two more. They tied the horses to the rack +and then came over to the office door. Bunty and Three Star came to the +door. Limpy masticated violently, scratched his nose and looked up at +Bunty. + +“Held up.” + +Bunty craned his neck for a look at the horses. + +“Did they steal your stage?” asked Harp. + +Limpy ignored this pleasantry. + +“Get anything?” asked Bunty. + +“Somethin’,” nodded Limpy. + +“One man?” inquired Three Star. + +“Two men.” + +“Oh!” grunted Bunty. + +“Was yuh expectin’ more?” asked Brick. + +“Where?” Bunty ignored Brick. + +“Whisperin’ Crick grade. Know where them two curves is? It was the one +this side. There’s a lot of brush----” + +“I know the place. Where’s the stage?” + +“Ditched.” + +“Anybody hurt?” + +“There was a female--” began Limpy, but caught a look from Brick and +stopped. + +“Was she hurt?” + +“Not so awful danged bad,” said Brick. + +“I’ll ask Limpy to do the talking,” stated Bunty. “Where is the woman?” + +“I dunno,” grunted Limpy. + +Bunty stared at Limpy and then at Silent and Brick, who were grinning. + +“This is the ----est conversation I ever heard!” snapped Bunty, and then +turned to Harp. “Go hitch up my horse.” + +“Ain’tcha goin’ to take a posse?” asked Silent. “Yuh sure ain’t goin’ +huntin’ road-agents with a top-buggy.” + +“Since when did you start running my office, Slade?” + +Harp went around behind the building, and Bunty and Three Star went back +into the office, leaving Silent, Brick and Limpy looking at one another. + +“This country is goin’ to the dogs,” declared Limpy. + +“Mark an X in front of their name instead of tyin’ a can on their +tail--what do yuh expect?” demanded Brick. + +Limpy turned back to the horses, unhooked the mail-sack from over a +hame and limped up the street toward the post-office. Brick and Silent +grinned and crossed the street. + +“What did yuh find down there in the road, Brick?” + +Brick looked sharply at Silent, but Silent’s expression showed that +he was not merely guessing that Brick had picked up something at the +scene of the hold-up. They were at the door of the Dollar Down, and +Brick shook his head warningly and they went inside. + +It was too early in the day for much animation in King Cleeve’s place. +Several men were lolling around the place. A gambler sat at a table, +idly turning cards from a dealing-box. Over at the piano a dance-hall +girl was trying to pick out a tune with one finger, and grimacing with +the effort of picking out the right key. + +The bartender slid a bottle down the bar and reached for glasses. + +“Where’s Cleeve?” asked Brick. + +“Huntin’.” + +The bartender grinned as if it were a joke. + +“Huntin’ what?” + +“Coyotes. Zell Mohr brought his three greyhounds from Silverton, and him +and King went huntin’. Reckon they’re goin’ to run ’em down. They’ve +been talking about it for quite a while.” + +“Sun-Dog County sure is gittin’ civilized,” nodded Brick. “Women holdin’ +up stages, sheriff huntin’ outlaws in a top-buggy and gamblers ridin’ to +hounds.” + +“Which all happens when?” + +The bartender was interested. + +“Today. The stage was held up a while ago.” + +“Women do it?” + +“Woman,” corrected Brick. + +The bartender turned away to serve a customer. + +“’S ---- funny that nobody gits excited,” complained Silent, and then +whispered, “What did yuh find, Brick?” + +Brick drank and turned away from the bar. Silent shook his head and +followed Brick outside. Harp Harris was leaning against a post in front +of the Boston Café, twanging dolefully on his jew’s-harp, while from Le +Blanc’s blacksmith shop came the not unmusical clanging of steel against +steel. + +“This here place,” declared Silent; “this here place needs a +Sunday-school to wake her up. Let’s go and eat.” + +They crossed the street and stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, where +Brick pointed his nose toward the sky and gave a soft imitation of a +coyote howl. Harp grinned and wiped the back of his long hand across +his lips. + +“Bunty and Three Star went buggy-ridin’,” he stated. + +“Gosh!” + +Silent appeared shocked. + +“Did they go armed?” + +Harp grinned and shrugged his narrow shoulders. + +“I’d hate to tell for fear it might leak out.” + +“Sure,” grinned Brick. “Bein’ as you’re Bunty’s hired----” + +“Period,” grunted Harp. “I ain’t with him no more.” + +“When did yuh quit?” + +“Thank yuh, Brick, but I didn’t quit.” + +“What did he fire yuh for, Harp?” + +“Well--” Harp licked his lips thoughtfully--“well, I told him to be sure +and lock up the jail ’cause somebody might steal the hinges off the cell +doors.” + +Brick grinned. + +“Want to work for the Nine Bar Nine?” + +“Gotta work,” observed Harp. + +“You’re hired. Come and eat with us, hired man.” + +Harp asked nothing about the robbery, and they ate silently. + +Their meal over, they sauntered outside just as a roan team, hauling a +buckboard, was driven up in front of the restaurant by Lafe Freeman. + +“Brick, what happened to the team and wagon?” he rasped. + +“Ran away. Silent accident’ly dropped the lines.” + +“Did, eh?” + +Freeman glared at Silent. + +“Accidental, eh? Pinto dead and that Schuttler wagon all busted +to ----!” + +Lafe shifted his eyes to Brick. + +“You’re fired. Do yuh hear that? Both of yuh fired.” + +Brick nodded sadly and turned to Harp, who was starting to put the +jew’s-harp between his lips. + +“I’ve gotta cancel that job, Harp.” + +“Thanks,” grunted Harp, “I’d hate to work for a man who was that mean.” + +Lafe Freeman started to kick off the brake, but changed his mind. + +“Met the sheriff and his ornyment down there,” motioning down the road. +“Said there was a hold-up.” + +“Yeah,” nodded Brick. “Yeah, there was, Lafe.” + +Freeman held the lines between his knees while he filled his old pipe. +He smiled down at the pipe and turned to Brick. + +“Whatcha say, Brick?” + +“I didn’t say,” drawled Brick, “but I was jist thinkin’ about hittin’ +yuh for a job.” + +“Say yuh was?” + +Lafe’s tone was indignantly sarcastic. + +“Huh! Yuh was, was yuh?” + +He shifted his eyes to Silent and Harp and back to Brick. + +“S’pose yuh want a job as foreman, eh? Yuh do? Then you’ll go and +hire Silent Slade and that danged harp-twanger over there. My gosh, +don’tcha know wagons cost money? Don’tcha know that there pinto horse +was worth----” + +“Sure, sure,” nodded Brick, “I knowed we’d git fired. Silent says to +me--‘Brick, my heart bleeds for Lafe, but----’” + +“Don’t lie!” snapped Lafe. “You’ve done enough without that. C’mere and +tell me about that hold-up, will yuh?” + +“A female!” gasped Lafe, as Brick described the hold-up. “Female? I tell +yuh it’s gittin’ so we can’t trust our weak sex. + +“Held a Winchester right on the three of yuh. Whatcha know about that? +Petticoats and perfumed sheriffs. Next thing yuh know we’ll have to do +the crowshayin’.” + +“Here comes Limpy,” stated Silent. “Been down to the telegraph office.” + +Limpy was hurrying as fast as his game leg would permit and working +his jaws overtime. He shuffled to a stop beside the buckboard and spat +copiously. + +“Sent a message to Teton,” he volunteered. “They’ll send it to the +Whippoorwill.” + +“What do yuh reckon was in that box, Limpy?” asked Brick. + +“We-e-ell--” Limpy squinted up the street--“well, the Whippoorwill’s +a free-gold producer, and they ain’t shipped in a long time. That box +weighed about a hundred pounds, and folks don’t generally ship junk, +do they?” + +“Hundred pounds of gold!” gasped Lafe. “Thirty thousand dollars or +thereabouts! ---- fools ought to lose it when they send it without +protection. Thought they was smart, didn’t they? Nobody expects a +unguarded stage to haul money. Don’t believe in it myself, y’betcha. +Goin’ to the ranch, Brick?” + +“Not now. Me and Silent can borry a couple of broncs from Wesson. You’ve +got a outfit, ain’t yuh, Harp? Harp’s workin’ for us now, Lafe.” + +“Work ----!” Lafe exploded. “Never had a puncher yet that would work. +All right, all right. Come out and visit us, Harp. Forty a month for +visitin’ punchers. I’m goin’ to fasten that heatin’-stove on the back +of this buckboard. Ought to ’a’ done that instead of sendin’ a couple +of danged fools and a pinto team after it. Giddap.” + +Limpy turned and went down the street. Harp yawned and opined that he +would buck the wheel for a while, being as he had a new job and didn’t +have any use for the last money that Bunty would ever pay him. + +Brick and Silent sat down in the shade of a building. Silent watched +Brick roll and shape a cigaret, and then he said: + +“Yuh might tell me what it was. I say, yuh might, but the ---- only +knows if yuh will or not.” + +Brick lighted his cigaret and pinched out the lighted match before +grinding it under his heel. Then he reached into his hip pocket and +took out a soiled envelope, which he held in his cupped hands. There +was just a name on it: + + SCOTT MARTIN. + +It had been opened. Brick slowly drew out the slip of paper, and he and +Silent read the penciled note. + + Tuesday, I think. J will be on stage and will signal at first + curve. If no signal, let go. If there, J will go to Marlin, + unless trouble. Can take care of self. This is big. Meet you + in same place. + (Signed) O. + +Brick and Silent looked at each other for a moment and then down at the +note. Brick folded it up and replaced it in his pocket. + +“Know who Scott Martin is?” asked Silent. + +Brick nodded and puffed on his cigaret. + +“Bought out the old Weepin’ Tree ranch. Tall, freckled _hombre_, about +fifty years old. Ties his gun down.” + +“Rides a blaze-faced bay,” added Silent. “I’ve seen him. Kinda puts the +deadwood on him, Brick. Gee cripes, a man’s a sucker to take chances on +losin’ that kind of a note.” + +“Fools ain’t all dead,” grinned Brick. “In fact, I reckon, they’re right +in their prime.” + +“Whatcha goin’ to do about it?” + +Silent was getting anxious. + +“Wait for the reward.” + +“Here comes Sun-Dog’s swell-elegant sheriff, Brick.” + +Brick and Silent strolled down and watched Bunty and his deputy get out +of their buggy. + +“Well, I see yuh got back safe,” observed Brick. + +Three Star grunted, but Bunty ignored them. + +“Did yuh find any tracks in the dust?” inquired Brick, insinuating that +the officers did not get far from their buggy. + +“I’d hate to have ’em follerin’ me in the snow,” stated Silent. “Betcha +they’d make me go some. Did yuh find the woman?” + +“You’re loco,” declared Three Star. “Women don’t hold up stages.” + +“Silent, me and you can’t lie a-tall--not and get away with it.” + +Brick grew very despondent. + +“Other fellers can lie and make anybody believe----” + +“Wait a minute!” snapped the exasperated sheriff. “You two talk too much +and say nothin’.” + +“What can yuh expect?” wailed Silent. “They took our guns and we’ve got +all excited. Nobody can talk sense when they’re excited.” + +“Can you describe the robbers?” asked Bunty. + +“Sure.” + +Brick stepped in close to Bunty and grew very accurate in his +description. + +“Medium size; mebbe a little taller. Both wore overalls, shirts and +boots and had masks on.” + +“One chawed spittin’-weed,” added Silent. “Yuh ought to be able to find +him easy. Yeah, he sure did. And another thing--they all had guns.” + +“You think you’re ---- smart!” snapped Bunty. “What about the woman? +You’ve told several different stories.” + +“That’s right.” + +Brick grew serious. + +“Silent, we’ve made a awful mistake thataway. Anyway--” Brick grinned at +Bunty--“anyway, I can’t remember just what he did tell; so we’ll stick +to all of ’em.” + +Bunty grunted with disgust over this ridiculous statement and went into +the office, followed by Three Star, equally disgusted, while Brick and +Silent grinned joyfully and went back up the street to the Dollar Down, +where they found Harp leaning against the bar, twanging dolefully. + +“Git him away,” wailed a half-drunk cowboy from the Bar S, pointing at +Harp. “His kinda music makes me cry, and when I cry I get mean,” and +then he added meaningly, “I’ve been cryin’ quite a while now.” + +Harp grinned. Just then came an interruption in the shape of three +rangy-looking greyhounds, which came frisking into the front door. They +trotted a circle around the room and then headed for Brick. Dogs always +came to Brick. + +He leaned down and was immediately the center of three plunging beasts, +all seeking to get the bulk of caresses. + +Brick managed to back away from them, and just then King Cleeve and Zell +Mohr came in. Mohr was carrying several fresh coyote pelts, which were +tied together. The inhabitants of the place surrounded them and Cleeve +set up the drinks. + +King Cleeve was of the cool, calculating type of gambler. There was +nothing flashy about him, except that he wore an enormous yellow +sapphire ring on his left hand, and the mate to it flashed from his +necktie. He was of medium height, graceful in his movements, with the +long, tapering hands of a man who drew a living without hard labor. +His face was not unpleasant, although his eyes were shallow and his +teeth too short and even to make his smile friendly. + +Just now he was wearing a flannel shirt and a pair of well-worn chaps. + +“It’s the real sport,” stated Cleeve; but there was little exultation in +his voice. “Think I’ll get me some dogs.” + +“Dogs run ’em down, eh?” wondered Brick. “That’s goin’ some.” + +“Run ’em down all right,” assured Mohr. “Them dogs are runners.” + +“Caught four of ’em, eh?” asked Brick, examining the bundle of pelts. +“Betcha them dogs had to go some. Had to shoot ’em, didn’t yuh?” + +“After the dogs caught ’em,” nodded Mohr. “No use letting the dogs get +chawed up.” + +“That’s right,” grinned Brick, fondling the lean head of a fawn-colored +hound, and immediately becoming the center of the three dogs again. + +Just then Lafe Freeman drove up in front of the saloon. Tied to the +back of the buckboard was a heating-stove, which threatened to cave in +the rear of the flimsy vehicle. Lafe came in. He nodded to several of +the men. + +“Hear about the robbery, Cleeve?” + +Cleeve nodded. + +“Yes. We met the sheriff down the street. He didn’t seem to know much +about it.” + +“He wouldn’t,” said Lafe. “Yuh can’t expect him to. I think Limpy is +goin’ after ’em himself. As I came past his shack he was packin’ a +horse and he had a riding-horse saddled.” + +Mohr turned from the bar and spoke to his dogs. + +“Yuh got some nice dogs there,” remarked Brick. + +Mohr nodded and turned to King Cleeve. + +“Reckon I’ll be goin’, Cleeve. You keep them hides. As soon as I can get +them pups I’ll let yuh know.” + +The crowd at the bar broke up. Brick and Silent watched Lafe swing out +of town, team on the run as usual. + +“We’ll borrow a couple of horses from Wesson,” said Brick as the three +of them crossed the street. + +“I’d kinda like to chase coyotes,” observed Silent. + +“Go ahead,” said Brick. “Don’t let me stop yuh. At that you’d likely +catch as many as them hounds did.” + +“Whatcha mean?” asked Silent quickly, but Brick did not say. + +Cale Wesson let them have the pick of his stable, and as they started +down the street Limpy rode from behind the blacksmith shop, leading a +packed horse. + +“Goin’ huntin’ outlaws, Limpy?” asked Brick. + +Limpy squinted at Brick, glanced back up the street, where a number of +men were standing in front of the Dollar Down, and then back at Brick. + +“I dunno--yet. If this danged pack-animal will git animated a little +I’ll ride as far as the forks with yuh.” + +Brick swung in behind the pack-horse, and that worthy animal, knowing +the meaning of such actions, broke into a lope. + +Three miles from town, at the forks of Whisperin’ Creek, Brick, Silent +and Harp waved good-by to Limpy Squires, and then swung into the low +hills of the Nine Bar Nine range. + + “She-e-e was a shrinkin’ vi’let + And I loved her ten-n-n-der-lee-e-e. + I called her-r-r mine, my I-i-iodine, + But she nev-v-v-er came back to me-e-e.” + +Silent’s face gradually came back to normal as he wailed the last line. +Harp Harris gave an extra doleful twang to his jew’s-harp and nodded in +appreciation. + +“Yuh might like to know that Iodine ain’t a girl’s name,” remarked Brick +from where he sat on the edge of a bunk, massaging his toes, which were +encased in an all-too-tight boot. + +“This one was named that,” retorted Silent. + +“Iodine is a medicine.” + +“So was she--good medicine, Brick.” + +Silent watched Brick rubbing his toes. + +“What yuh ought to do is this, Brick; massage your feet with a +meat-grinder and then pour the results into a sausage-skin. What +in ---- a feller wants to pinch----” + +“Them is my feet,” stated the ungrammatical Brick. + +“That there was my song,” reminded Silent, “but you took exceptions to +it.” + +“Some folks takes exceptions to my music,” observed Harp. + +“Not me.” + +Brick shook his head seriously. + +“I like it, Harp. Sounds like a dyin’ Injun with his head in a +barrel--and I hate Injuns.” + +“A feller can wear a hat that’s too small, and all she does is fall +off,” stated Silent, “but when he bunches his toes inside a boot what +is three sizes too small---- Of course, if I was a tin-horn gambler or +was in love----” + +Brick glared at Silent for a moment, but the pain in his foot drew his +attention away. He hooked the heel of the offending boot over the end +of the bunk and pulled his foot out, with a sigh of relief. He picked +up the boot and looked it over. + +“Takes a lot of argument, but sometimes yuh show sense,” remarked +Silent. “I knowed a feller down in Wyoming who was a heap like you, +Brick. He was herdin’ sheep for a while, but he didn’t have sense +enough to herd sheep, so he----” + +Silent ducked just in time to escape the thrown boot, but as he +ducked his head hit the table-top a resounding whack. He staggered +back, clutching at his forehead, dazed. He started for Brick, who was +convulsed with laughter and unable to defend himself. + +“If yuh kill him I’ll never play for yuh again,” declared Harp, stepping +in front of Silent. + +“O-o-o-oh, mama mine!” choked Brick. “If it hadn’t been for that table +he’d ’a’ dropped his head on the floor!” + +“By cripes, yuh must think that’s funny!” howled Silent. “If yuh do +you’ve got another think comin’.” + +“Nobody told yuh to hammer the table with your head.” + +Silent groaned and massaged his forehead. Finally he grinned and said: + +“Well, are we goin’ to town, Brick? Thousand dollars ain’t much, but it +helps a lot in these stingy times.” + +“Funny that the Whippoorwill don’t raise that ante,” remarked Brick, +pulling on his old boots. “The county never lost nothin’, but still +they offers a thousand.” + + * * * * * + +It was three days after the robbery, but no one had found the slightest +trace of the bandits. Conjectures were rife as to the contents of the +iron box. The superintendent of the Whippoorwill mine refused to issue +any statement of the amount, and beyond the probable value, based on +Limpy’s estimate of the weight, there was nothing to show the extent of +the haul. + +And Limpy had disappeared. Whether on the track of the bandits or on +personal business, no one knew. Limpy had been very brief in his +statements, and outside of his first words to the sheriff, had not +mentioned the woman. No one except Silent, Lafe, Brick and Limpy +actually knew what happened at the hold-up. + +Brick and Silent had not been to Marlin since the day of the robbery, +but Harp had made the trip each day, gathering the latest gossip. Harp +had no idea of why they wanted first news of the reward, but it was +easier to ride to Marlin and loaf around than it was to work on the +ranch. If the Nine Bar Nine wanted to pay him for loafing in town, +fine. And besides it gave him a chance to learn a lot of new tunes on +his harp. + +Brick and Silent had deliberated on letting Harp in on the proposition. +Harp was a square-shooter. He was fast with a gun and a top rider. They +finally decided to let Harp in on their secret. + +As they rode away from the ranch Brick told Harp and let him read the +note. + +“Well, ----!” drawled Harp delightedly. “She’s a dead open and shut. +Let’s go and arrest him.” + +“Him!” snorted Brick. “We seen three, and from this note it looks like +four. One of them initials, I reckon it’s J, stands for the female. +We’ll kinda investigate this here Martin, but for gosh sake use a little +sense, will yuh? We ain’t got a danged thing except this letter.” + +At the scene of the hold-up they swung off the grade and rode down to +the pine thicket. The stage was still there, but Freeman had hired Joe +Le Blanc to haul the wagon to his shop at Marlin City. + +Brick dismounted and walked down from the stage until he reached a +point where the top of the stage was barely visible. Then he searched +the ground. Suddenly he grunted and picked up an empty .45-70 cartridge +shell. Silent and Harp looked at it. + +“World is full of .45-70’s,” stated Silent. + +Brick nodded and examined the cartridge. To all appearances it was an +ordinary cartridge shell. No one except a gun crank would give it a +second glance. Brick turned it around in his fingers, feeling of it +carefully. + +To all appearances the cartridge was old. It was spotted with verdigris +and scratched as if it had been handled considerably. + +Brick noted this. In a country where there was much use for +rifle-shooting it seemed strange that any man would have an old +cartridge in his possession. A hold-up man would rarely take a chance +of using an old cartridge in a repeating rifle--or in any gun for that +matter. + +Brick examined the butt of this shell, and noted that it was slightly +swollen. The firing-pin of the rifle had dented the primer near the top, +fairly cutting into the brass rim of the cartridge. Brick glanced at the +others. + +“Likely the one they shot past my head,” grinned Silent. “Reckon I’m +lucky to be able to look calmly upon that ca’tridge-shell.” + +Brick dropped the shell into his pocket and got back on his horse. + +“He’s thinkin’,” observed Silent. “That shell means a lot to him, Harp. +Shouldn’t be afraid to bet that he knows them bandits’ ancestors by +their first name by now.” + +“Sure,” nodded Harp. “Betcha he even knows it was fired in a .45-70.” + +Brick turned in his saddle and grinned at Harp. + +“I might fool yuh on the way I’d bet.” + +“And,” observed Silent, “they send ’em to the loco lodge for thinkin’ +they’re somethin’ that they ain’t.” + +Brick led them straight through the main street of Marlin City. Bunty +Blair was standing in front of the Dollar Down, and when he saw them +he sauntered over toward the hitch-rack as if to meet them when they +rode up; but they never even looked at him as they rode past. + +“That’s high-tonin’ the law,” grinned Silent, watching Bunty from the +corner of his eye. “Mister Blair likely was wishful to ask questions. +Believe me, cowboys, we’ll hookum cow on this deal. When we turn our +prisoners over to the law we’ll take receipt.” + +“Yuh can’t figure on chicken stew by lookin’ at a nest full of aigs,” +reminded Brick. “We’re goin’ to be danged lucky to find out who done +it, and then we’ll likely earn a lot more than a thousand dollars +landin’ ’em. We know there was two men and a woman, which makes it +equal to about five men.” + +“How do yuh figure thataway?” asked Harp. + +“That’s right, Harp--you never seen that woman.” + + * * * * * + +The Weeping Tree ranch was what might be termed a derelict. The ranch +had changed hands numberless times, and it appeared that each new owner +had added a room or two to the rambling ranch-house until it had grown +to be almost a complete rectangle, in the center of which grew a gnarled +weeping-willow tree. + +The old tumble-down barn also had many angles, and from the number of +pole corrals it appeared that each owner had had a pet idea of corral +construction. The ranch-house had no protection from the elements, +and it appeared that each addition had shrunk away from its neighbor +until it was almost possible to look between all the additions to the +original ranch-house. + +Smoke was drifting from the stove-pipe, or rather one of the +stove-pipes, when the three cowboys rode into the rectangle and +dismounted. + +“Whatcha goin’ to say to him?” asked Silent. + +“Party call,” grinned Brick. + +“Independent party,” chuckled Harp, remembering the recent election. + +They started away from their horses, but stopped. A woman was singing: + + “Oh! Ye’ll tak’ the high-road and I’ll tak’ the low-road, + And I’ll be in Scotland a-fore ye, + But me and my true love will never meet again + On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.” + +The words ceased, but the rich throaty contralto hummed the chorus of +the old Scotch song once more. Brick Davidson’s mother had been +Scotch--and she had sung this same song to him. It had been years since +Brick had heard it, and it brought back a rush of memories--memories of +a sweet-faced woman who used to cuddle him in her arms and call him +“laddie o’ mine.” + +Brick was not sentimental, but just now he found himself, hat in hand, +staring down at the ground. He glanced at his companions. Harp was +staring at the open door, mouth open. Silent had stepped back against +his horse and was standing with his arms folded and eyes closed. + +Brick’s eyes switched back to the door just as the owner of the voice +appeared. For a moment she did not see them--her eyes seemingly looking +far away. Then she gave a start of surprize. + +She was not beautiful. Her face was tanned, her hair a tumbled brown +mass, and a smudge of black discolored one of her cheeks. The faded +blue-calico dress, the dejected attitude, might have made her a +pathetic figure; but she was too tall, too visibly healthy to be +pathetic. + +“Ma’am,” said Brick softly, “yuh got a beauty-spot.” + +Her hand went slowly to her cheek and a smile flashed across her face. + +“I’ve been trying to fix that darned stove-pipe. When I get it level the +stove won’t stand up, and when I get the stove level the pipe won’t fit. +Know anything about stoves?” + +“I’m a expert on ’em,” stated Silent. + +“Not saggin’ ones,” corrected Brick. “I’m the sag expert.” + +There was a three-cornered rush for the doorway, but Brick was the first +one inside. + +Some time, in the dim and distant past, this stove might have had four +legs; but now it rested its four corners on a stone, two bricks, an old +kettle and a block of wood. The rusty pipe, of odd lengths, made several +angles before entering the tin-protected hole in the roof. + +The three cowboys surrounded the stove and examined it carefully. The +section of pipe which connected to the top of the stove had been freshly +cut, but Silent did not note this trifling detail. + +“The ---- fool that cut this must ’a’ been cross-eyed,” he declared. “No +wonder it won’t fit when the stove’s level.” + +“I’m not much of a mechanic,” admitted the girl soberly. + +“Aw-w-w,” choked Silent, coloring to the roots of his hair. “Aw, I can +see where yuh made the mistake, ma’am; one of the corners was saggin’. +Anybody’d make the same mistake.” + +Brick removed the offending section of pipe and proceeded to ruin his +pet pocketknife in cutting the pipe square across, while Silent and +Harp shifted nervously from one foot to the other. + +“She’s a small world, ma’am,” declared Silent, “but I ain’t never met +yuh before. I’m Melville Slade. Folks calls me Silent ’cause I never +have much to say. This one here is Harp Harris. The pipe-cutter over +there is named Brick Davidson.” + +“Harp ain’t my right name, ma’am.” + +Harp said that much and then took a deep breath, like a man who had +been under water a long time--or was getting ready to go under. Then +he finished breathlessly-- + +“I was christened Cadwallader Jones Harris, ma’am.” + +Harp beamed with joy over his disclosure. + +“I’d stick to Harp if I was you,” grunted Brick. “Sayin’ your full name +sounds like fallin’ over a door-step and hitting your head on a chair.” + +“Were you christened Brick?” asked the girl. + +“His name’s Donald Campbell Davidson,” chanted Harp. “I know, ’cause I +seen it on a letter.” + +Brick grinned at her. + +“I am Jean Martin,” said the girl simply. + +“Jean Martin?” + +Brick almost dropped the pipe. + +“How do yuh spell it--with a G?” + +“No, with a J. J-e-a-n.” + +Brick came back to the stove and fitted the pipe, while Silent and Harp +watched him. It fitted. Brick wiped his hands on his chaps and smiled at +her. + +“I reckon she’ll work now, ma’am.” + +“Thank you so very much. I never could have fixed it, because I am such +a poor mechanic.” + +She looked at Silent as she finished; but Silent was looking at a +Winchester hanging on a pair of deer-horns on the wall. + +“You and your dad goin’ to run the ranch?” asked Brick. + +“We--we hope to, Mr. Davidson.” + +“Kinda hard for one man to run a place,” observed Harp. + +“There will be three of us. Jack Oliver has been with us a long time, +but he isn’t here yet because he stopped to pick up some stock.” + +“Well,” said Brick slowly, “I reckon we’ll drift along, ma’am. Just +stopped to say howdy.” + +Jean shook hands with them and stood in the doorway, waving a farewell +as they rode away. + + * * * * * + +None of the three men spoke for a while, and then Harp remarked--“She +ought to have a new stove.” + +Neither of the others disputed his assertion. Silent spurred up beside +Brick. + +“Lemme look at that letter again, Brick.” + +He read it through and handed it back to Brick. + +“Kinda fits,” he muttered. “J and O. Watcha know about that, Brick?” + +“All we’ve gotta do--” began Harp, but Brick whirled in his saddle. + +“Do what?” he snapped. + +“We-e-ll, whatcha think, Brick?” + +“Lemme think, will yuh?” + +“Let me think,” grinned Silent. “Betcha forty dollars, Harp, that he’s +thinkin’ right around one thing--she sure can sing.” + +“Like an angel,” said Harp seriously. “Honest to grandma, I ain’t never +heard no song like that in my life. Wonder if she’d sing if a feller +asked her?” + +“What caliber was that Winchester carbine hangin’ on the wall?” asked +Brick. + +“Forty-five-seventy,” said Harp. “I gotta good look at it. Model 1886, +open sights.” + +“Sure?” + +“You’re danged right I’m sure, but that don’t spell nothin’, Brick. This +here country is full of .45-70’s.” + +“I’m glad it was a .45-70.” + +Silent turned in his saddle and stared at Brick. + +“Yuh are, are yuh?” he exploded. “Well, now lemme tell yuh somethin’, +cowboy; don’t yuh try to hang deadwood on that lady.” + +“A thousand dollars is a lot of money,” mused Brick. + +“I ain’t so danged miserly as all that,” grunted Harp. “Forty a month +and feed ain’t so much, but yuh can live on it.” + +“That would mean three hundred and thirty-three dollars apiece,” stated +Brick seriously. “Take a long time to save up that much, if yuh don’t +drink much and don’t gamble.” + +“What’s time?” snorted Silent. “That ain’t nothin’; is it, Harp?” + +“Not in my life, Silent. Whatcha laughin’ at, Brick?” + +“Thinkin’ what a lot of danged fools the lady has made of us three.” + +They rode into Marlin and left their horses at the tie-rack near the +sheriff’s office. A group of men were standing in front of the general +store--a group that seemed strangely interested in the three cowboys. + +Bunty Blair was one of the group, and now he left it and came down +toward his office to meet the three. + +Bunty stopped as if undecided. Then he pointed toward the door of his +office and said-- + +“Let’s go inside and have a little talk.” + +“What’s the main idea?” asked Brick wonderingly, glancing from Bunty to +the crowd in front of the store. + +“Come inside and I’ll tell yuh--all three of yuh.” + +The three cowboys glanced at each other and then followed Bunty into the +office. He shut the door and faced them. + +“Limpy Squires was murdered.” + +Brick squinted at Bunty. + +“When?” + +“The day of the hold-up. Shot in the back.” + +The cowboys exchanged glances. Limpy had never been popular with them, +but who would shoot the inoffensive old crippled stage-driver? Limpy had +an acrid tongue, but no one ever took exceptions to his talk--rather +they were amused at his flow of profanity. Bunty straightened some +papers on his desk and continued: + +“He left here with you fellers. ‘Topaz’ Tyler was coming here from +Silverton when he found him. Limpy had been dead all this time, lyin’ +just off the road near the forks. Topaz brought the word back, and we +went out after him. We found both horses, but the pack had come +loose.” + +Brick listened grimly to Bunty’s statement; and then-- + +“Who do yuh reckon shot him, Bunty?” + +The sheriff did not reply--did not meet Brick’s intense gaze, but +fumbled with the papers on his desk. + +“Bringin’ us in here thisaway,” muttered Silent, “’pears like yuh was +tryin’ to keep it a secret.” + +“You fellers rode out of town with Limpy,” stated Bunty slowly. “I’d +kinda like to know where you left him.” + +“At the forks,” replied Harp. + +Bunty’s grin was crooked and his voice was mildly sarcastic. + +“Looks kinda queer.” + +“Wait a minute,” snapped Brick. “You insinuating that we had anything to +do with shootin’ Limpy Squires?” + +“No, I ain’t, Davidson; but there’s a few things that----” + +“Why should we harm Limpy?” demanded Silent. + +“There’s a lot of things that need explaining. That hold-up, for +instance. You two and Limpy come here with a cock-and-bull story about +female road-agents, and then you admit you’re lyin’ about the woman. +You laugh like it was a good joke. + +“Davidson, you and Slade stay out at the ranch and send Harp in to town +to see what he can find out. Looks kinda queer to me, if anybody asks +yuh.” + +“Yeah?” drawled Brick innocently. + +“It does,” stated Bunty, who seemed to grow bolder when he found that +the fiery Brick remained indifferent to the half-accusation. + +“I’m waiting for you to talk.” + +“Oh!” grunted Brick, recovering from his abstraction. + +“Whatcha say, Bunty?” + +“I said I was waiting for an explanation.” + +“Well, now that’s sure thoughtful of yuh,” nodded Brick. “If yuh only +wait long enough, Sun-Dog County will grow to be a State and you might +be elected governor. Ever’thin’ comes to them who waits, Bunty.” + +“I want that explanation right now! _Sabe?_” + +“Who’s Topaz Tyler?” asked Brick suddenly. “He’s a new one on me.” + +“I know’m,” grunted Harp. “He punched cows for the Diamond H outfit +in Idaho till they caught him cheatin’ in a poker game. Tall, skinny +tin-horn with educated fingers. Wears a six and three-quarter hat and +a number five boot.” + +“You used to be in Idaho too, didn’t yuh, Bunty?” asked Brick. + +“That ain’t answering my questions!” snapped the sheriff. + +“I want you to explain about that hold-up--the truth of it; _sabe?_” + +“Yo’re takin’ a lot upon yourself,” smiled Brick. “When in ---- did you +get the right to ask questions, Bunty? ’Pears to me like you’re gettin’ +personal.” + +“I’m the sheriff, ain’t I?” + +“Well,” drawled Brick, “you keep right on bein’ the sheriff and nobody’s +goin’ to molest yuh, Bunty. Speakin’ of Idaho, ’pears like that State’s +well represented around here. Bunty comes from there, and Silent used to +live in that country, and now comes Topaz Tyler. Mebbe we can have a +reunion.” + +“Feller what bought the Weepin’ Tree outfit is from Idaho,” volunteered +Harp. “Leastwise I seen a box out there with his name on it and it also +had the words ‘Cottonwood, Ida.’ I-d-a means Idaho, don’t it?” + +“And,” added Silent, “if I ain’t so danged badly mistaken, King Cleeve’s +from Idaho. Mebbe not lately, yuh understand, but----” + +Silent broke off and stared at the opposite wall. + +Then his face broke into a smile of wonderment. + +“What’s a joke?” asked Brick, grinning an accompaniment. + +“Nothin’, Brick; I was just thinkin’.” + +“What’s all this about?” demanded the sheriff testily. “I asks for +an explanation and I gets a lot of fool talk. I want that +explanation--now!” + +“And if we refuse to talk--what then?” asked Brick. + +“Well, I’ll have to present such facts as I have to the county +attorney.” + +Brick grinned at Bunty and shook his head. + +“You ain’t got no facts, Bunty, but do the best with what yuh have. A +top-buggy ain’t nothin’ to hunt outlaws in, and if the county attorney +ain’t got no more sense than you have, the two of yuh ought to be able +to hang some half-witted sheepherder for killin’ Limpy. Do yuh want to +arrest any of us?” + +“No--not now--not yet.” + +“Stutterin’ loosens your teeth,” stated Brick. “Come on.” + +The three of them filed out, leaving Bunty Blair glaring down at the top +of his desk, his nerve almost gone. He reflected that it was a good +thing that Brick Davidson had taken it as a joke. Bunty had been forced, +against his will, to demand an explanation from the three cowboys. They +had refused. + +The bunch of men were no longer in front of the store. As Brick and his +two companions went up the narrow sidewalk a tall cowboy came across +from the Dollar Down, heading for the store. + +“That’s Topaz Tyler,” said Harp. + +“Walks like he had club feet.” + +“That’s how Brick’s goin’ to walk if he don’t wear proper boots,” +declared Silent seriously; but Brick was studying Topaz Tyler and did +not resent Silent’s implication. + +There was no question but what Topaz was wearing tight boots--not only +tight, but also expensive. In fact, his whole make-up bespoke the dandy. +Light-blue silk shirt, lavender muffler, trousers with a diagonal stripe +and the finest of black calfskin boots, with the softest of tops. His +hat was of the “five-gallon” Southwest type, surmounted with a snakeskin +band. In his hand he carried a pair of gray gauntlet gloves, beaded and +fringed. He merely glanced at the three cowboys as he passed and went +into the store. + +“Smokin’ one of them Turk cigarets!” grunted Silent, wrinkling his long +nose. “Jockey Club perfume and burnin’ camel-hair. Waugh! I’d kiss him +if he didn’t smoke.” + +“Where’d he get the nickname, Harp?” asked Brick. + +“Wears ’em,” grinned Harp. “Look at his vest-buttons, Brick. All +topazes. Wears a big one on a rosette to hold his muffler, and he’s got +two or three on his fingers. Kinda nutty, I reckon. Feller told me that +Tyler found a smoky topaz as big as a goose-egg and had a jeweler cut +it up for him.” + +Brick nodded and turned into the store. Silent and Harp followed on his +heels. There were several men in the store. Le Blanc the blacksmith, +Cale Wesson the storekeeper, King Cleeve, Lynn Barnhardt of the Lazy H, +Lowdermilk, who bought stock for the Eastern markets, and Topaz Tyler. + +Topaz turned from purchasing a package of tobacco and glanced at Brick +and his companions. He glanced at Harp Harris, but turned and began to +roll a cigaret. None of the men said a word, although it was evident +that there had been earnest conversation prior to the coming of the +three cowboys. + +“Gimme a pack of smokin’, Cale,” said Brick, moving up to the counter. + +“When did yuh leave Smoky Creek, Topaz?” asked Harp. + +Topaz turned and stared at Harp, the tobacco trickling from the crimped +paper in his hand. + +“Smoky Creek?” he parroted. “I reckon yuh got the best of me, pardner.” + +“If I did it’s the first time anybody has--when yuh was lookin’,” +returned Harp seriously. + +Topaz let the paper slip out of his hand, but kept his hands above his +waist-line. It looked too much like a challenge for him to drop his +hands. + +“Just what do yuh mean?” he asked. + +“I used to work for the Diamond H.” + +“Oh, yeah.” + +Topaz relaxed. + +“Sa-a-ay, you’re the feller who used to play the jew’s-harp. Still +twangin’ along?” + +“Yeah,” grinned Harp. “Kinda.” + +“Smoky Creek,” said Brick thoughtfully, turning. “Name’s familiar +somehow. Didn’t a feller by name of Martin used to live around there?” + +Topaz shifted his eyes to Brick’s face and their eyes met. Topaz turned +back to Harp, but neither of them answered Brick’s question. + +“Snubbed!” grunted Brick, licking the edge of a cigaret paper. “A fool +and his questions never gits answered,” and then added reflectively: +“She’s kinda funny about so many Idaho folks movin’ over here, ain’t +it? Anybody’d think they quit runnin’ cows over there.” + +King Cleeve gave Brick a searching glance, but Brick’s face told him +nothing. Silent was laughing silently, his homely face wreathed in +deep lines. He looked at King Cleeve, and it seemed to convulse him, +but no sound came from his wide mouth. + +King Cleeve’s eyes narrowed. Silent’s laugh was almost an insult--that +kind of laugh; and he was looking directly at King Cleeve. + +Suddenly the door opened and a man came in. He was about fifty years +of age, sandy-haired, his thin face plentifully sprinkled with +freckles. His arms were long, his shoulders sloping; but he carried +himself with a wiry ease, and the sleeves of his faded shirt seemed +to stretch under the relaxed arm muscles. His gun was tied down to a +rosette on his chaps, the butt swung out at an angle which hinted at +fast work. + +His glance quickly took in the inhabitants of the store. For a moment +his eyes shifted from one to another, and then he moved in close to +the counter. Wesson walked up and leaned across the counter. Without +taking his eyes off the group, the newcomer gave his order and leaned +easily against the counter while Wesson tied up the purchases. Then he +paid, half-turned, opened the door and stepped out, still half-facing +the interior. He carried his purchases in his left hand. + +No one spoke for several moments after the door closed, and then Le +Blanc said: + +“She’s got wan strong look, dees Martin, eh? Bah gosh, she’s tip ovair +cow with hands, I’m bet.” + +“Where’d he come from, Cale?” asked Barnhardt. + +Wesson shook his head. + +“I dunno, Lynn. You know, Cleeve?” King Cleeve shook his head. + +“Idaho, I think,” said Brick. “Near Cottonwood or Smoky Creek.” + +Silent laughed again, but this time it was not silently. Every man +in the place looked at him, but Silent gave them no heed. Finally he +turned on his heel and walked outside. + +“Slade acts like he was loco,” observed King Cleeve. + +“Acts like a ---- fool, if you ask me,” stated Topaz. + +“If anybody asks yuh,” agreed Brick, and added, “but nobody asked yuh.” + +“What do you mean?” + +Topaz glared at Brick angrily. + +“Want a diagram?” grinned Brick. “If yuh don’t, I’ll just say yo’re +pretty new to be passin’ opinions.” + +“Now, now, quit jawin’,” interrupted Wesson, who knew Brick very, +very well indeed. “Sayin’ this ’n’ that back and forth is apt to make +enemies; don’t yuh know it?” and then added meaningly, “There’s been +one killin’ this week and gosh knows that’s a plenty in these quiet +times.” + +Topaz, without a reply, walked outside and crossed to the Dollar Down. +Brick grinned. + +“Friend of yours; ain’t he, Cleeve?” + +“Mine?” + +King Cleeve was astonished. + +“Not that anybody knows of.” + +“Oh! Not that anybody--knows--of.” + +King Cleeve slid from his seat on the counter and straightened the +creases in his trousers. He feigned not to have noticed Brick’s tone +of voice, and when he straightened up his face was blandly innocent. + +“Me, I’m thinkin’ she’s goin’ to rain.” + +Le Blanc stood up and yawned widely. + +“Where?” asked Harp. “It ain’t goin’ to rain here, Frenchy.” + +“She’s goin’ t’ be long dry spell if she don’,” grinned Le Blanc, and +headed for the door. + +“That cinches the drink on you, Harp,” grinned Brick. “C’mon.” + + * * * * * + +Outside they found Silent sitting on the sidewalk, contemplating a +faded and torn two-year-old circus poster which adorned the building +just across the street. He looked soberly up at Brick and moved aside +to let him sit down. + +“What did yuh laugh for, Brick?” + +Silent’s tone was mildly reproving. + +“I had to,” grinned Brick. “Lemme tell yuh something, which yuh likely +won’t believe; I was in jail once.” + +“I don’t believe it,” declared Silent. “You was in jail more’n once.” + +“I can remember this one. It was a little town in Idaho where I got +into a argument with a feller. I reckon I was drinkin’ a little too +much. Anyway I licked him. Then two fellers hopped on me and helped +him put me in jail. He was the sheriff. There was only one cell--a +big one. I didn’t mind, ’cause there was a good bed in there. + +“I don’t know what time it was--night, I reckon--when I hears two men +come inside. They unlocks the door, and one of ’em shoves the other +feller inside and locks up again. After he’s gone I lights a match and +looks at this feller. He’s been handled considerable and ain’t payin’ +much attention to things. I went back to sleep, and pretty soon I’m +woke up. + +“The place is full of men. They smashes in the cell door, falls upon me +in a mess and yanks me plumb outside with a rope around my neck. I can’t +holler nor nothin’. I gets yanked and hauled for quite some ways, and +then they stops. I hear somebody sayin’, ‘----, that ain’t no way to tie +a proper knot,’ and then somebody else says, ‘Ain’t yuh goin’ to let him +say anythin’?’ + +“Then somebody lights a match and takes a look at my face. I seen his +face in the light of that match. It was all bloody and white. Then he +said: + +“‘----! This ain’t him, boys!’ + +“They crowds around me and gets a look. + +“‘Git back to the jail!’ orders the feller who looked at me first, and +they left me on my back out there under a tree. + +“I found my bronc and I sure rattled his hocks out of there.” + +Silent rubbed his neck thoughtfully and grinned widely. + +“Yeah,” admitted Brick; “it sure was funny, Silent. What else?” + +“Yuh can laugh now,” replied Silent. “The man they throwed into my own +little cell was--King Cleeve.” + +“Aw-w-w-w!” + +Brick grunted his unbelief. + +“I’m sure as ----!” declared Silent. “Always I’ve wondered where I seen +his face, and when he was talkin’ about Idaho----” + +“When do we laugh?” asked Harp. + +“When I tell yuh that this here jigger that bought the Weepin’ Tree +outfit was the person who lit that match and saved my neck.” + +“Martin!” exclaimed Brick. + +“Uh-huh.” + +“Silent, is this straight goods, or are yuh romancin’?” asked Brick +seriously. + +“----’s truth! I carries them faces photygraphed on my brain, y’betcha. +’Course Martin was all bloody-like, but I know that face. I was kinda +bothered about Cleeve, bein’ as he was beat up a lot, and not of much +consequence to me--not like Martin was.” + +“Which makes a different color horse,” sighed Brick. “Things are almost +as clear as mud.” + +“Cleeve must ’a’ been gone when they went back to the jail,” observed +Harp. “They busted the door and he just walked out; don’t yuh see? After +they takes you away he jist naturally went----” + +“As a detective you plays real sweetly on the jew’s-harp,” remarked +Brick. “Let’s go home before Harp explains the whole mystery.” + +“Well--” Harp was very serious--“well, of course there’s a chance +that----” + +“Chances are you’re right, Harp,” admitted Brick. “I hope the stove-pipe +draws well. Must take a _pasear_ out there again real soon.” + +“We must,” agreed Silent; and Harp nodded, but added: + +“After observin’ her paw, I’d say we better go one at a time--we’ll last +longer. Let’s have another li’l shot before we go.” + + * * * * * + +The Whippoorwill men seemed to make little effort to apprehend the +robbers. Limpy was dead; therefore unable to tell of the actual +occurrence. Silent and Brick refused to talk about it. + +Bunty Blair hinted at evidence--nothing absolute, but something that +might incriminate a couple of unintelligent cowboys. He did not +designate them by name, but every one knew whom he meant. + +Brick, Silent and Harp were stumped. Silent and Harp were sure that +Scott Martin, Jean and Jack Oliver were the guilty parties, but they +were equally sure that they--Silent and Harp--did not want the reward, +and they were also sure that they were going to act as a stumbling-block +to any one else that tried to collect. + +Brick spent a lot of time alone, thinking, and his actions were looked +upon darkly by Silent and Harp. None of them had been out to the Weeping +Tree ranch since that one day. + +Just now Silent and Harp had come in from repairing a corral at Silver +Spring. Brick was not at the ranch. Sing Moy, the god of the kitchen, +was the only inhabitant. They asked him where Brick was. + +“You go--he go,” stated Sing. “Mebby-so go town.” + +“Jist like that!” exploded Silent. “Send us out to fix a darned old +corral that nobody ever uses, and then he goes to town. Let’s me and +you go to town. He-e-e-y, Harp! Quit mournin’ on that groan-organ. +Let’s go to town.” + +Harp shoved himself away from the side of the house and wiped the back +of his hand across his lips, after which he carefully wrapped the +offending instrument before putting it in his pocket. + +The fact that he had sent Silent and Harp to repair a perfectly good +corral, giving him a chance to go alone to Marlin City, was not +stinging Brick Davidson’s conscience. In fact, Brick was very, very +busy, trying to capture a glass of liquor which seemed to elude his +every effort. Brick stepped back from the bar, looking cross-eyed at +the glass, and then cautiously stalked it with his hands. + +There is no denying the fact that Brick was beautifully drunk--if such +an adjective may be used to describe his present condition. He was also +very joyful. He loved all the world, and made it publicly known that his +soul was fairly reeking with milk and honey. + +He insisted that Topaz Tyler was as near perfect as any human being +could be--and still live. He dilated on the virtues of Topaz. Then he +eulogized King Cleeve, whom he pronounced a “pup-pup-prince.” Brick +did not stammer over any other words but King Cleeve didn’t mind. + +Brick was staggering drunk when he entered the Dollar Down and cast his +bleared eyes around the place. Bunty Blair was there, but Bunty did not +linger. Brick was not yet drunk enough to disturb the peace, and Bunty +knew that when Brick got drunk enough to be safely handled he would be +too drunk to disturb any one. + +But Brick was not mean. Oh, far from it. He even said, “Thank you,” when +King Cleeve said, “Well, here’s regards.” + +Brick grew confidential with King Cleeve. Did Cleeve have any idea who +held up the stage? King Cleeve did not. Brick hinted darkly that he did. +In fact, he had a document that would clear up the mystery. + +“What do you mean?” asked Cleeve. + +“I never shed,” grinned Brick drunkenly, patting a pocket of his vest, +“I got shome evidence; y’ understand?” + +King Cleeve patted Brick on the back and wished him luck. He told Brick +that there was nobody he would sooner see win the thousand dollars. + +Then came Topaz Tyler, and King invited him to join them. For a man who +was already drunk Brick stood an amazing lot of liquor. Topaz and Cleeve +mourned over the fact that they could not drink liquor as Brick could. +It was a gift. They boasted over his ability, and Brick’s chest swelled. +Brick admitted that he was a wonder. + +But finally a glass of liquor eluded him. Then he stalked it, +cautiously. King Cleeve’s foot was elevated on the bar-rail, his leg +encased in a very expensive, pearl-colored trouser. Brick threw +caution to the winds and scooped the glass off the bar, and its +contents splashed on Cleeve’s immaculate knee. + +Brick chuckled with glee and sat down heavily on the floor, while King +Cleeve swore at the ruination of his new trousers. A swamper volunteered +to remove Brick, but Cleeve and Topaz declined his assistance. Wasn’t +Brick their friend? + +They lifted him to his unstable feet and piloted him out of the back +door, where they propped him up on some empty kegs, afterward removing +the folded note from his inside vest pocket. Then they staggered up to +Cleeve’s room over the saloon and sat down on the bed. It had been a +mighty job to anesthetize Brick Davidson with whisky, but they were +sure, judging from their own condition, that the job had been +thoroughly done. + +King Cleeve read the note with both eyes, and then read it with one +eye shut. Topaz nodded over it and stared at King Cleeve. Then they +both went to sleep. + + * * * * * + +Silent and Harp tied their horses to the saloon rack and came inside. +Silent approached the bar and asked the bartender if he had seen Brick +Davidson lately. The bartender grinned. + +“Went out the back door a while ago, but I don’t reckon he went far.” + +“Drunk?” asked Silent. + +“Well--” the bartender did not want to reflect any discredit on Brick’s +ability--“well, I--I hope so.” + +“Why hope so?” inquired Harp. + +“I’ll tell yuh; Davidson was seven-eighths drunk when he came here, and +he drank enough here to float a canoe.” + +“Son of a gun!” breathed Silent, and headed for the back door with Harp +on his heels. + +Yes, Brick was there. His head jerked sidewise as they came out of the +door, and he looked up at them with streaming, agonized eyes. Tears +coursed down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. + +“May I herd sheep if he ain’t bawlin’!” gasped Silent. “What’s the +matter, cowboy?” + +Brick shook his head and handed the little bottle which he held in his +hand to Silent. + +“Sm-smell it,” he choked. + +Silent put the bottle to his nose and sniffed. Like a flash his head +jerked back and he dropped the bottle. + +“Uh-h-h-h--woosh!” + +Silent’s choking wheeze was very emphatic. Brick sobbed with joy. + +“What in ---- is that?” + +Silent’s eyes were full of tears and his nose twitched violently. + +“Oil of mustard,” grinned Brick. “Ain’t she a humdinger? Doc Lindsay +gave it to me.” + +“What’s it for?” asked Harp. + +“Soberin’ up. Kicks the booze out of your head, _muy pronto_.” + +“Spend your good money for liquor and then blow your head off to get rid +of it!” + +Silent wiped the tears off his cheeks and glared down at Brick. + +“You’re a disgrace to Sun-Dog County, Brick Davidson.” + +Brick got up and yawned. His legs wobbled a little as he walked around +the rear of the saloon and over to the hitch-rack, where he stopped and +apologized to Silent and Harp for acting so disgracefully. Silent and +Harp looked with distrust upon this apology. Brick was very meek. + +“Yessir,” nodded Silent as if to an invisible person. “Yessir, when I +come to think about it, I do. Crazy, yuh say? Well, yuh know how it +is--a feller kinda hates to say, but now that yuh mentioned it--yeah, +I reckon you’re right. No, I won’t mention any certain thing, +y’understand, but jist take mostly anythin’ he’s ever done--you’re +welcome, I’m sure.” + +Silent nodded and turned back to Brick and Harp. Brick laughed, but it +was not a drunken laugh. Heroic measures had driven the alcohol from +his head, leaving him a trifle unsteady on his feet, but otherwise cold +sober. + +Brick’s laugh nettled Silent. + +“You hoodoed us away so yuh could come to town alone and git drunk, +didn’t yuh? Yes, yuh did, Brick. Ain’tcha got no feelin’s?” + +Brick was busy searching his pockets and ignored Silent’s question. +Brick swore softly. + +“Gone,” he muttered. + +“What--your feelin’s?” grunted Silent. + +“I had a note in my pocket--” began Brick. + +“Aw-w-w-w, gosh!” groaned Silent. “You went and lost that note? Yuh +didn’t, did yuh, Brick?” + +Brick nodded and searched his pockets again. + +“Where did yuh lose it?” inquired Harp. + +“Where did he?” + +Silent glared at Harp, and then hammered on the hitch-rack. + +“Where did he lose it? Harp, some day you’re goin’ to ask a question and +I’m goin’ to kill yuh dead--right when yuh finish askin’. If he knowed +where he lost it he’d know where he was when he lost it, wouldn’t he?” + +Silent snorted his disgust. + +“He’d know,” nodded Harp. “He’d know where he was when he lost it if he +was sober enough to know where he was when he lost it; but if he----” + +Silent clenched his hands and rubbed his shoulder into Harp’s chest, +shoving him slowly backward. + +“Please don’t speak, Harp,” he begged. “Don’t speak.” + +“Don’t speak to him, Harp,” grinned Brick. + +“I won’t,” promised Harp. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say to the ---- fool. +Where do yuh think yuh lost it, Brick?” + +“Think!” Silent snorted. “What would he think with?” + +Harp looked mildly at the exasperated Silent and then turned his +back. Silent snorted again and went across toward the store, walking +stiff-legged like an angry bear. + +“He’s angry with me and you,” grinned Brick. “Mebbe he’ll be mad quite a +while.” + +“Let’s me and you go into the saloon,” suggested Harp. “Betcha forty +dollars he brings a peace-pipe, ’cause he’s thirsty.” + +The bartender was idly wiping a glass as they came in, and the glass +fell from his fingers, making a dull _plop!_ in the rinsing-tub under +the bar. He stared at Brick, who walked up to the bar, talking to Harp. +There was nothing about Brick’s actions that would indicate he had ever +had a drink. + +“Hooch,” said Harp. + +“The best yuh got,” added Brick. “I’m dry.” + +The bartender’s hand shook as he placed the required articles before +them. He wondered if Brick was one of twins, or if any man could handle +that much---- Well, if he wasn’t one of twins, it was a sinful waste of +liquor. + +Bunty Blair came in and sat down at an unused card-table before he saw +that Brick was still there. Bunty had expected that Brick had been laid +away long before this; and Bunty watched, fascinated, as Brick rolled a +cigaret with one hand and never spilled the tobacco. Then Bunty stared +at the table-top. It was beyond him. + +Silent came in and leaned against the bar. + +“Normal again?” asked Brick. + +Silent cleared his throat dryly, and Brick nodded to the bartender. Then +Brick looked at Bunty, who turned away. + +Brick nudged Harp, who grinned at Bunty. Then Brick turned to Silent. + +“How long since you was in Idaho, Silent?” + +“Nine or ten years, I reckon.” + +“Did sheriffs use top-buggies to chase outlaws with?” + +A man at a poker-table laughed, and several men turned and looked at +Bunty. Brick had plenty of respect for the law, and in spite of his +wild escapades stayed within it, but he detested Bunty Blair. + +Bunty got up from the table and faced Brick. Bunty hated ridicule +worse than anything else, and his soul seethed with a desire to +obliterate this red-headed nuisance. He did not speak for a moment, +evidently trying to control his voice, but there was a decided catch +in it when he said-- + +“There are times when a sheriff can’t even use a top-buggy to follow +outlaws.” + +“Yeah?” + +Brick leaned back, elbows on top of the bar, and grinned widely. + +“When is them times, Bunty?” + +“They don’t make saloon doors wide enough.” + +Brick laughed, loudly, joyously. Bunty’s hand was at the butt of his +holstered Colt and he had stepped away from the table far enough to +give him room to draw. Brick knew that Bunty was fast enough with a +gun; knew that Bunty would likely take a chance when he had all the +advantage. + + * * * * * + +Brick was in no position to reach for his gun. In fact, he gave no sign +that he might reach for a gun. He laughed. + +Every eye in the place was on Brick. Then Brick’s eyes shifted from +Bunty’s face to a point behind Bunty. Like a flash the laugh died from +Brick’s lips and a look of horror came. He started to speak. + +Bunty whirled, falling for an old trick; and before he could recover +Brick had flung himself away from the bar, wrapping his arms around +Bunty, and the two of them went over a chair and crashed to the floor. +Brick staggered to his feet, still holding his grip. He removed Bunty’s +pistol and tossed it away. + +Bunty cursed wildly and kicked Brick on the leg; whereupon Brick +whirled Bunty to the doorway and flung him bodily into the street. +Bunty staggered to his feet and limped straight toward his office +without a backward glance. Silent and Harp were backed against the +bar, guns in their hands, watching the crowd for a hostile move. + +Brick looked at the crowd. + +“I reckon you gents will pardon the confusion, won’t yuh?” + +No one objected. Silent and Harp walked over to Brick, and the three of +them went outside and headed for the hitch-rack. + +“Now yuh went and done it,” complained Silent, looking back as they rode +out of town. “Yuh antagonized the sheriff a lot, Brick. He won’t forget +that, y’betcha. Yuh went and got drunk and lost that letter and----” + +“But with all my faults yuh love me still,” added Brick. + +“Well--” Silent shook his head slowly--“well, yuh do the dangedest +things, Brick. I ain’t kickin’ about yuh huggin’ Bunty Blair. She +makes me no never mind how he feels, but that note was important. +Suppose somebody finds it? Tell yuh one thing, though, Brick; I’m +goin’ to----” + +“Where did yuh leave that letter?” interrupted Harp. + +Brick turned in his saddle and stared at Harp. + +“Leave it?” + +“We’re all in on this, ain’t we?” + +Harp was very serious. + +“All right. Yuh can go ahead and tell us why yuh went and got drunk, +Brick. Yuh didn’t get drunk for fun, that’s a cinch. Now, where is +that letter?” + +Brick grinned in appreciation of Harp’s deductions. + +“What makes yuh think I didn’t lose it, Harp?” + +“’Cause yuh never worried about it. I know danged well you’d be r’arin’ +around to beat ---- if yuh lost it.” + +“It’s hid in the bunk-house.” + +“Aw-w-w, ----!” + +Silent’s disgust was very pronounced. + +“Yuh never lost no note, yuh danged red-headed----” + +“Yeah, I lost a note, Silent.” + +“Whatcha mean, Brick?” + +Brick laughed and looked back down the dusty road. + +“I went into the Dollar Down, actin’ as drunk as a shepherd on a +vacation. Mamma mine, I sure was drunk as a boiled owl. I invited +Cleeve to participate, and then Topaz Tyler joined us. + +“I drank all I could handle and then I sets down on the floor, after +I dumped a glass of hooch over Cleeve’s ice-cream pants. Cleeve and +Topaz led me out behind the place and swiped the note. They sure was +lit up plentiful.” + +“But about this here note,” said Silent. + +“I hinted that I had a note; _sabe?_ I said I had evidence in my pocket. +They picked it out of my inside pocket and all it said was-- + + “Since when did Nature start muzzlin’ coyotes?” + +Silent and Harp stared at Brick. + +“You’re awful crazy,” declared Silent. “Awful crazy. What good did it do +to let ’em steal that from you?” + +“I dunno,” admitted Brick, “but I’m just kinda peckin’ around, like a +woodpecker on a tree. There’s a worm-hole some’ers, and I’m goin’ to +be the early bird.” + +“I think you’re crazy,” said Silent, and then to Harp, “You agree with +me, don’t yuh?” + +“Think ----! I know he is, Silent.” + +“I’m just as happy as though I had good sense,” grinned Brick. + + * * * * * + +“You fellers just about raised ---- and put a chunk under it.” + +Lafe Freeman leaned against the bunk-house door and contemplated the +three bunks, wherein three blanketed figures reposed in deep slumber. A +protruding leg, bare to the knee, was all that would absolutely identify +any of the three humps as being human. + +One of the humps choked over a healthy snore and sat up, blinking at +Lafe. + +“Whatcha say?” + +Lafe Freeman squinted at Silent’s yawning face and repeated his +statement. Silent reached down, picked up a boot and hit the nearest +figure a resounding whack. + +“Daylight in the swamp!” he yelled. “Up and at ’em, Brick!” + +Brick uncoiled from his blanket, swung his feet around and sprang for +Silent, but Silent was looking for just such a move. His legs shot +out, catching Brick in the chest, and the luckless Brick sprawled to +the floor. + +“Take him off!” yelled Silent, as if Brick were beating him. “Take him +off!” + +Then he threw the other boot, which hit Harp as he lifted up to see what +the commotion was all about. + +“Aw-w-w-w!” wailed Silent. “Brick’s to blame, Harp. Honest to grandma, +he is. I meant to hit him and he ducked.” + +Harp rubbed his shoulder and stared at Lafe. Brick got to his feet and +sat down on his bunk. + +“The sheriff,” stated Lafe ominously, “the sheriff says that Marlin City +ain’t big enough to hold you fellers.” + +“Oh!” + +Brick seemed surprized. Then he grinned. + +“Goin’ to build her bigger, eh?” + +“Says he’s got enough evidence to hold yuh all in jail.” + +“He needs stren’th more than evidence,” yawned Harp. + +“Well, he can make a lot of trouble for yuh, that’s one cinch. He’s got +warrants all made out, so Le Blanc told me, and he’s goin’ to serve ’em +the first time yuh show up down there.” + +“Warrants!” + +Brick was properly indignant. + +“I suppose we staged that runaway and grabbed the strong-box! Rats! The +fellers that done it are the same ones that killed poor old Limpy.” + +“That’s what they’re talkin’ about,” nodded Lafe. “They say he rode +away with you fellers, and that’s the last time anybody seen him +alive. There’s talk that this robbery was all framed, and that Limpy +was killed for his share because they was afraid he might get caught +and squeal.” + +Brick stared at the floor, deep in thought. + +“Mebbe they’re right at that, Lafe.” + +“Betcha forty dollars they are,” agreed Silent. + +“Know anythin’ about that new feller that bought the old Weepin’ Tree +ranch?” + +The three cowboys looked at Lafe, but none of them admitted that they +did, so Lafe continued: + +“His daughter--I reckon it’s his daughter--was in Marlin last night. +Came in after grub, I reckon. After she went away I heard Cleeve talkin’ +to Bunty about her. Cleeve opines that they’re kinda mysterious, and +then he asks Bunty what he thinks about your story about the female +bandit. Bunty said it was a ---- of a thing for a feller to imagine, and +wondered if you fellers lied. + +“Cale Wesson said it was a shame for a nice-lookin’ girl to not have any +females to wau-wau with, and he said he was goin’ to have Mrs. Wesson go +out and visit her.” + +“My ----!” gasped Brick. “Mrs. Wesson would talk the ear off a mule. +What else did they say--Bunty and Cleeve?” + +“Nothin’ much. I hears Cleeve asked Bunty why he didn’t go out to the +Nine Bar Nine and serve them warrants instead of waitin’ for you to +come to town, and Bunty said there wasn’t no ---- of a big hurry about +it.” + +“Bunty ain’t goin’ to strain himself and get his muscles all sore,” +observed Silent. “I ain’t huntin’ for trouble, but Marlin City is big +enough to suit me.” + +“All right, all right!” + +Lafe Freeman shook his head violently. + +“Go ahead! Git in jail and see if I care; but before yuh get shot or +hung I want you and Harp to go over to the Triangle Dot and bring back +them twelve white-faced yearlin’s. Sam Clayton said he’d have ’em in +the corral;” and then added as an afterthought, “They’re wilder than +white-tail deer, but that ain’t no reason for runnin’ ’em all the way +home.” + +Silent and Harp grumbled, which is a usual thing in a case of this kind, +especially as they were afraid that Brick wouldn’t sit down and wait for +them to return. After breakfast they rode away, still grumbling. + +Brick watched them disappear over the hills and then threw the saddle +on his top horse, Glory, a hammer-headed gray. He filled half of his +pistol-belt with rifle cartridges and shoved a Winchester carbine into +a saddle scabbard. + +Lafe Freeman watched Brick’s preparations, but made no comment. If Brick +wanted to go to Marlin City and call the sheriff’s bluff it was Brick’s +own business. Lafe knew that Brick could take care of himself, in spite +of the fact that he was prone to get reckless. Lafe’s soul yearned to +follow Brick, but he put away his desires. + +But Brick was not thinking about going to Marlin City to call Bunty +Blair’s bluff. Brick had an idea; an idea that was not at all clear +just yet. Something seemed to tell him that the answer was written +in the cañon where the hold-up had been pulled off. He was piecing +together some of the things that had happened; but there were many, +many things that he needed to make it complete. + +As he swung away from the ranch, with the Winchester under his right +knee, he wondered where the trail would end, and why he was so +interested. It was not because Bunty Blair had hinted that +he--Brick--was mixed up in it. + +Brick’s thoughts went to the Weeping Tree ranch. Was the answer there? +He knew that Jean was not guilty. What did Scott Martin know? Would any +man carry a note like that to the scene of the hold-up and take a chance +on losing it? Brick shook his head. + +Why was Limpy killed? Did Limpy know who held him up? Where was Limpy +going when he was killed? Was he afraid that his knowledge of the +bandits---- Again Brick shook his head, but would not admit to himself +that he was baffled. He would work on the theory that Limpy knew who +held him up. + +King Cleeve had incurred the displeasure of a mob, according to Silent’s +story. Martin led that mob. Why hadn’t Martin recognized Cleeve? Did +Cleeve know Martin? Brick scowled over these perplexing questions. + +He went slowly down to the county road, and drifted along until he came +to the second curve of the Whisperin’ Creek grade, where he stopped. The +wrecked stage had been taken away, and there was nothing left to mark +the spot except the deep ruts where the wheels had cut into the soft +hillside. + +Brick visualized as much as he could of the robbery, but there was +nothing to give him any clue. He decided that the woman, and possibly +one of the men, had jumped or been knocked off the grade into the brush +out of sight. The other had stayed with the stage until it reached the +pine thicket. But their manner of escape from the crash had nothing to +do with their apprehension. + +Brick swung his horse off the edge of the grade and rode down to where +the bank broke sharp to Whisperin’ Creek, where he dismounted. + +Brick felt sure that the bandits would not carry that heavy box very +far. The reasonable thing, he thought, would be to open it, divide the +contents and then go on. There was little water in the creek-bed, which +was piled high with boulders. + +Brick slid down to the creek-bed and began casting around. About fifty +feet from where he struck the creek he found footprints of three +people--two men and a woman. The half-wet sand had caught and held the +prints perfectly. + +“Men wearin’ about number nines,” muttered Brick. + +Half the men in the country wore about that size boot. The woman wore +what Brick would designate as a fair average size. + +The tracks led across a sandy spot, all three prints well defined, +especially those of the woman, whose heels made small circles. The +tracks all led to a rock, which jutted up in the center of the +sand-plot. The marks showed that the three had stopped for consultation +or to wait for some one. + +Brick studied the jumble of prints as he started to light a cigaret. +Suddenly he stared at the tracks, while the match burned up and scorched +his thumb. He dropped the match, circled the tracks and sprang to the +top of the rock, where he perched like a buzzard, staring down at the +sand. + +The woman had walked to the rock, but had never walked away! Her +footprints came up to the rock, but none went away. A jumble of men’s +tracks led to the opposite side of the ravine, but there was no sign +of a woman’s tracks. + +Brick lighted his cigaret and pondered over this. + +“My ----!” he exclaimed to himself. “She must ’a’ just e-vaporated.” + +He studied it from every angle, but shook his head. Then he walked over +to a big boulder, which he climbed, and looked around. He happened to +glance down the far side of the big boulder, and there he saw the iron +treasure-box, half-covered with brush. + +Brick lost no time in getting down to it. The padlocks had been forced; +one of them still dangled from the staple. Brick lifted the lid and +stared down at a jumble of black cloth, which resolved itself into three +black masks. Brick shook them out and then looked down at the untouched +contents of the box--untouched except for examination. + +Brick dropped on his knees beside it and lifted one of the heavy bars, +weighing it in his hands. Then Brick closed the box carefully and +examined the masks. + +They were made of cheap material--sacklike affairs, with rough circles +cut for eyeholes. An examination proved to Brick that they were not all +made by the same person, as the sewing was crude, each one a different +stitch and with different-colored thread. + +He started to put them back into the box, but changed his mind and +placed them, folded, inside his shirt. Then he piled more brush on the +box, climbed back across the ravine and went back to his horse. + +“Glory,” he confided to the gray, “I’ve found out more in ten minutes +than all the rest have since the hold-up, and--and I don’t know a danged +thing, yet. That’s the ---- of bein’ a detective.” + +Brick did not stop in Marlin City; neither did he hurry through. The +main street was not over three blocks long, and Brick walked his +horse the full length of town, looking neither to the right nor left +but seeing everything. Several cowboys in front of the Dollar Down +looked expectantly at Brick, and voiced their disappointment when he +passed the hitch-rack. + +Three Star Hennessey saw Brick ride through town. Three Star was strong +for self-preservation, so kept right on reading a year-old magazine. +Bunty had boasted that he was going to arrest Brick as soon as he came +into town, but that was all right with Three Star. He had made no +boasts. + +Le Blanc was fitting a hot shoe on a mule when Brick rode past, but the +Frenchman forgot business long enough to go outside. The shoe was cold +when Le Blanc came back in, and he swore fluently at the mule. + +“Ba gar--” Le Blanc got confidential with the mule as soon as his +disappointment was past--“ba gar, dis Breek she’s ain’t afraid for +scare, an’ I’m wonder why she don’t stop. I’m mak’ you little bet +dat pretty soon dere be gut for de bear to chew. She’s ride wit’ +Winchester under her leg. Somet’ing be do pretty soon, you bet me.” + +Topaz Tyler saw Brick, too. Bunty Blair was sleeping after a hard night +at poker, but it did not take him long to wake up when Topaz sent a +swamper from the saloon to tell him about Brick Davidson. + +Bunty conferred with Three Star. They went over to the saloon, where +Brick Davidson was the topic of conversation. King Cleeve grinned at +Bunty, and Bunty grew explosive. + +“He walked his horse through town,” King informed Topaz. + +Bunty wondered aloud where Brick could have been going alone. King +Cleeve settled that wonder by saying-- + +“Isn’t there a lady out at the Weeping Tree ranch?” + +Bunty nodded, and exulted to himself. If there was a woman mixed up in +this hold-up, why couldn’t it be--? Bunty smiled. At least it meant that +Brick was alone. + +Of course, Brick alone was enough to make trouble, but Brick alone was +not as formidable as Brick and Silent and Harp. Bunty announced that he +would attend to Mr. Davidson at once. + +Three Star was inclined to be pessimistic. + +“Packin’ a Winchester. I seen him shoot the tin can off a dog’s tail +oncet, and that dog was fannin’ the breeze.” + +“Accident,” said Topaz. + +“Mebby-so.” + +Three Star was unconvinced. + +“Mebbe she was a accident, but that didn’t save the can, and yuh can’t +never make me believe that accidents are all through happenin’.” + +“This time,” stated Bunty, “there won’t be no accidents.” + +“Gee cripes!” grunted Three Star. “I didn’t say it was a accident, did +I? I hope there won’t be no intentionals either.” + + * * * * * + +Brick knew that his ride through Marlin City had caused comment, but +nothing more. Bunty and Three Star were the least of his troubles, and +the fact of the warrants did not disturb him, as he felt that he could +clear himself before any jury in Sun-Dog County. + +He rode straight to the Weeping Tree ranch-house and swung off his +horse near the doorway. As he started for the open door Scott Martin +confronted him, and Brick stopped. + +Martin had stopped with his weight resting on his right leg, his body +swung a trifle forward and his right hand hanging loosely at his side. +Brick recognized the pose; knew that Scott Martin was one of the old +school of gun-fighters, and that right now he was in position for fast +work. + +There was nothing friendly-looking about Scott Martin. His face was +set in stern lines, his eyes coldly blue, and his lower jaw seemed +molded to a fighting angle. Brick wondered if this man ever smiled. +Scott Martin gave one the impression of implacable power--power of +purpose and physique. He did not speak, but his eyes seemed to +challenge Brick. + +“You’re wrong, pardner. You don’t know me, but I bring a pipe.” + +“Injun talk?” + +Martin’s tone was colorless. + +“Y’betcha. White belts, pardner.” + +Martin relaxed easily, but before he could reply Jean came to the door +and saw Brick. + +“Hello there!” she called, and her voice was friendly. + +“Howdy, ma’am,” grinned Brick. “Nice day.” + +Martin glanced from Brick to Jean. + +“Dad, shake hands with Mr. Davidson. He’s the man who fixed that pipe +for me.” + +“Oh!” + +Martin smiled and shook hands with Brick, who withdrew his hand as +quickly as possible. Brick’s hands were muscular and tough, but Martin’s +grip was like that of a steel vise. + +“Pardner, I hope yuh never take hold of me for anythin’ but a +handshake.” + +Brick flexed his fingers painfully as they went into the house. + +Jean had done wonders with the living-room of the old ranch-house. +Dainty curtains hung at the windows, a canary sang from a home-made +cage against the wall, and the whole room glowed with cleanliness and +cheer. An oblong piece of bright-colored rag carpet covered the center +of the floor. On a little table was a jumble of colored cloth, on top +of which was a fancy sewing-basket. + +Brick examined the curtains, paying close attention to the sewing. + +“Did yuh make all these things?” he asked. + +“Yes. Are you interested in sewing?” + +Jean’s eyes danced. + +“Kinda,” admitted Brick, smiling at her. “I--I kinda wanted to see how +yuh sewed.” + +“Going to turn seamstress?” + +Brick colored and shook his head. + +“No, ma’am.” + +“What’s the idea?” + +There was a trace of suspicion in Martin’s voice. + +Brick walked over to Martin. + +“Pardner, I don’t exactly _sabe_ the idea myself. Yuh don’t have to +answer no questions, y’ understand, and I don’t want yuh to get sore +at my conversation. I want yuh both to look at this thing like I do. +Spread your cards if yuh want to, or keep ’em face down. I’m spreadin’ +mine. + +“There’s a warrant out for me and Silent Slade for robbin’ the stage of +a box of gold on July 15th. There was a woman mixed up in it.” + +Brick had watched Martin’s face, but it never changed a line. Jean +looked only mildly curious. Brick continued: + +“They’re talkin’ about you folks down in Marlin. I found this in the +dust where the stage was robbed.” + +Brick handed the note to Scott Martin. Martin glanced at his own name +on the dirty envelope and looked searchingly at Brick’s face. He slowly +took out the note and looked down at it. + +Brick could see Martin’s face lose its ruddy hue and grow blue--like +taking hot steel from a forge and plunging it into cold water. Martin +handed the note to Jean and the two men watched her read. + +“What--where did you----” + +Martin put his hand on her arm. + +“Let him do the talkin’, girl.” + +“There’s three of us that have seen the note--me and Silent and Harp, +ma’am. It looked kinda bad. Of course we didn’t know your initial was +J, and we didn’t know yuh had a man by the name of Oliver workin’ for +yuh.” + +“Jack isn’t here yet,” said Jean. “He stopped----” + +“What do you think?” + +Martin’s tone was very cool. + +“I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’,” grinned Brick, “but it ain’t got +me much. There’s somethin’ crooked, pardner. The evidence against yuh +is--too--danged--good. If yuh know anythin’----” + +Brick reached inside his bosom and drew out the three masks. + +“I found these today. They---- Look at the sewin’, will yuh, ma’am? It +sure don’t resemble your work a-tall.” + +Jean picked up one of the masks, while Martin held the other two in his +hands, watching her. + +Came a sound at the door, and they turned to look into muzzles of two +rifles, held in the hands of Bunty Blair and Three Star Hennessey. For +a moment there was silence, and then Bunty Blair laughed aloud. + +“Don’t move your hands,” he cautioned; and then his eyes caught the +significance of the black cloths. + + * * * * * + +It was a very inopportune time for the three people, each holding an +incriminating mask. Circumstantial evidence, it is true, but evidence +that no jury would overlook. Brick realized their danger, and his mind +worked fast. + +Bunty chuckled and Three Star grinned. + +“Caught with the goods,” said Bunty, relishing his own words. “Gettin’ +all ready for another job, eh? Kinda lucky, I am.” + +There was not a ghost of a chance for anything except surrender. Scott +Martin looked at Brick, and the friendliness had all left his eyes. His +look was an accusation. Brick glanced at Jean, but she was looking down +at the table-top, looking at one of the masks. Her face was white and +her lips tightly compressed. None of them had put up their hands. + +Bunty gloated. It was his moment and he was going to enjoy it. + +“Unbuckle your belts,” he ordered. “Careful with your hands. Now, hand +’em to me.” + +Bunty stepped inside, holding his cocked rifle at his hip, while Three +Star covered them from just outside the door. Brick slowly unbuckled his +belt. + +Scott Martin was holding out his belt, but Bunty was watching Brick, and +did not take it. Bunty was afraid of a trick. + +Brick held out his belt and gun, but before Bunty could take it he let +it fall to the rag carpet. Bunty stepped forward as if to pick it up, +but changed his mind. + +“No, yuh don’t, Davidson.” + +Bunty was determined to take no chances. + +“Pick it up yourself. You can’t fox me this time.” + +Brick grinned at Bunty as if in appreciation of Bunty’s caution; but he +was in reality grinning at his own cleverness. Bunty had been foxed, +but did not know it. It was a desperate chance, but Brick delighted in +taking chances. + +He half-knelt to pick up the belt and gun, but his hands grasped the +rag carpet instead; and with a sudden backward heave he yanked the +carpet from under Bunty’s feet, throwing him upside down. + +As Bunty fell Brick threw himself forward and into Bunty, and they +rolled almost into the startled Three Star, who was unable to shoot +for fear of hitting Bunty. + +With a twist of his body Brick crashed Bunty against the side of the +door, where he plucked Bunty’s pistol from its holster and sent a bullet +so close to Three Star’s ear that Three Star lowered his rifle and felt +to see whether he had lost an ear or not. + +Scott Martin had snatched his own pistol from its holster and was +covering Three Star, who capitulated audibly. Bunty’s head had hit the +wall so hard that he had little interest in present conditions. + +“I told him,” wailed Three Star. “I told him.” + +“What did yuh tell him?” asked Brick. + +“I told him to wire the governor to send out a troop of cavalry. I ain’t +got a danged thing against yuh, Davidson.” + +“Workin’ under protest?” + +“Yeah. Soon as he wakes up I’m goin’ to resign. I’ll take my forty a +month and punch cows.” + +Bunty took plenty of time to wake up, but awoke audibly. His feelings +were hurt, and he felt it entirely within his rights to give vent to +his feelings in profanity; but Brick promptly gagged him with a +handkerchief, much to Bunty’s indignation and disgust. The handkerchief +was none too clean. + +It had all happened in less time than it takes to tell about it. Martin +had buckled his belt on again, and now he handed Brick’s gun and belt to +him. + +“That was what a Frenchman would call a ‘fox pass,’” grinned Brick. +“Them darned masks made things look kinda bad for us; eh?” + +Bunty gargled something, but Brick gave him a withering look and his +eyes dropped to sullen contemplation of his toes. Three Star shifted +his feet nervously. + +“I--I don’t understand.” + +Jean shook her head. + +“Neither do I,” admitted Brick, “but I’m havin’ a lot of fun in my +ignorance.” + +“You knowed Bunty had a warrant for yuh, didn’t yuh?” asked Three Star. + +Brick nodded. He turned to Martin. + +“Do yuh know King Cleeve?” + +Martin shook his head. + +“No, only by sight.” + +Brick wrinkled his brow and wondered if Silent had been mistaken. + +“You used to live in Idaho?” + +“Yes; we came here from Idaho.” + +Brick stepped against the building, where he could keep an eye on Three +Star and Bunty. Then he said to Martin: + +“About eight or ten years ago you almost lynched the wrong man. Do yuh +remember it, Martin?” + +Martin’s eyes grew wider and wider until they were almost complete +circles; then they snapped back to mere slits, venomous as the eyes of +a rattlesnake. The lines of his face stiffened into a mask and his body +seemed to lengthen until the shoulder seams of his shirt threatened to +snap under the strain. His lips did not seem to move as he breathed: + +“Davidson, who are you? For ----’s sake, say something!” + +Brick glanced at Jean. She was leaning forward, looking at Martin, her +hand raised as if to reach for his arm. Brick snapped a glance at Three +Star and Bunty. + +“Can’t yuh talk?” gritted Martin. + +Brick stooped and picked up a coiled rope beside the door-step, and +turned to Martin. + +“We’ll tie up our visitors, pardner; then talk.” + +Martin relaxed and stepped forward. + +“You’ll pay for this!” snarled Bunty as the gag slipped from his mouth. +“You can’t tie up the sheriff----” + +“Mebbe not,” replied Brick, “but we’ll do our little best. There’s worse +places for a rope than around your hands and feet. You don’t mind, do +yuh, Three Star?” + +“Nawsir. Help yourself, Brick.” + +Martin opened the door and they put the trussed officers into the next +room, which was unused. Bunty made many rash promises, but no one seemed +interested. + +Back in the living-room Martin faced Brick, and Brick noticed that +Martin had aged years in the last few minutes. His eyes had lost their +glare, and his hand trembled as he drew it across his eyes. + +“Davidson, if you know--anything--let me--give me a chance, will yuh?” + +Martin’s voice was pleading, and Brick wondered at the change. + +“Pardner, I ain’t goin’ to cheat yuh out of anythin’. I don’t know +much--yet. Will yuh tell me a few things? Mebbe what I know will fit +in with yours.” + +Martin nodded. + +“I’ll tell all I can, Davidson.” + +“Who did yuh buy this ranch from?” + +“A man by the name of Mohr.” + +“Zell Mohr?” + +“Yes.” + +“Whatcha know about that?” + +Brick frowned down at the floor. + +He had not known that Zell Mohr had owned the Weeping Tree. + +“Suppose yuh tell me about that night in Idaho,” Brick suggested. + +Martin looked at Jean and then walked over by the open door, where he +leaned against the side and looked off across the hills. Jean stepped +in closer to Brick, but neither of them spoke. Finally Martin turned +and came back. + +“Davidson, I reckon you’re a square-shooter. I thought--when the sheriff +showed up--us havin’ those masks----” + +“Did look bad,” smiled Brick; “but mebbe we can spoil the looks of it. +Go ahead.” + +“Davidson, I used to be an outlaw.” + +If Martin expected Brick to show surprize he was disappointed. + +“Did yuh ever hear of the Sandy Creek gang?” + + * * * * * + +Brick nodded. The fame, or rather infamy, of the Sandy Creek gang had +never died out, although they had seemingly disbanded eight or ten years +before. None of them had ever been brought to justice. + +“I was the leader of that gang,” said Martin slowly. “For two years +I rode at the head of that outlaw clan, and then I met the woman I +married. + +“Jean is not my daughter. Her mother was a widow, and Jean was ten years +old when I met her. Men said that Mary Magone was beautiful. Women were +scarce in that country--good women; and God never made a better one, +Davidson. + +“I rode into Cottonwood one day and met her. Two weeks later we were +married and I left the old gang. Mary never knew I was an outlaw. She +wasn’t the kind you could tell things like that to--and the Sandy Creek +gang had been accused of a lot of devilish things they never did. I knew +she could never understand, so I did not tell. + +“Our game was to take the clean-ups of the mines. We had information on +every ounce of gold, and very little of it ever got past us. + +“I had a little saved up. I told Mary I had sold my cattle. We moved +away from there. I was a gambler, Davidson, and my money did not last. I +had to get a job, and of all the jobs on earth for me to take--I went to +drivin’ the stage between Sweetgrass and the Ophir mines. + +“Davidson, I was happy. I had a little home, the sweetest wife on +earth, and little Jean. The past kinda faded out, and it seemed like I +had always been straight. There was a reward of five thousand dollars +for the leader of the Sandy Creek gang. + +“I heard a feller say once that there’s only the thickness of a cigaret +paper between heaven and hell. He was right. I walked out of heaven one +day when I met ‘Black’ Ames and Pete Rawls, members of the old gang. + +“They laughed at me when I told ’em I was livin’ straight. Rawls said +they were going to get their share of the gold from the Ophir mines and +were willin’ to split it three ways with me. + +“I refused to listen to them. They laughed and went away. + +“Two days later they came to me again. I refused to help them. They +laughed at me. Wasn’t there a fat reward for the leader of the old +gang? Wouldn’t folks like to know who was driving the Ophir stage? + +“Then Ames sprung his hole-card by telling me that my wife would be glad +to find me out. + +“Davidson, I should have killed them both right there. It would have +caused trouble, but would have been better. That night I heard two +men, standing in the dark, talking. One of them was Ames, and he was +saying: + +“‘That’s the idea. We’ll put a note in his pocket to show who he is. Did +yuh ever see his wife?’ + +“The other one said-- + +“‘You’re danged right I have, and I’m thinkin’ I’ll see a lot more of +her pretty soon.’ + +“I knew they were talking about me. After they were gone I had figured +out what they meant. They were going to kill me at the hold-up. Somebody +was going to find my body with the note on it and claim the reward. +Somebody else was going to try to get my wife, Davidson. + +“I think that Rawls and Ames were the ones who pulled off the dirty +deals that were credited to the Sandy Creek gang. It was impossible to +prove it at the time. They demanded that I tip ’em off to the next big +shipment of gold. + +“I didn’t know what to do, Davidson. I finally decided to lie about a +shipment and fight it out with them at the hold-up. I thought there +might be a third man in the deal, on account of the conversation I had +overheard, but I took a chance. I knew they were going to try and kill +me, but they didn’t know that I knew this, which made it safer for me. + +“I expected to have three men hold me up, but there were five of ’em. +Ames and Rawls were not masked, but the other three were. They did not +look for trouble from me, but when my hands came up I gave Ames and +Rawls each a dozen buckshot from my shotgun. They never moved. They were +going to double-cross me, but I beat ’em to it. Then a bullet struck me +in the head, and when I fell I must ’a’ kicked loose the brake and the +team ran away. + +“When I woke up I was in a saloon at Sweetgrass and the doctor was +sewing up the gash in my head. A man had come to the door of the +saloon and yelled that the stage had been smashed up and the driver +killed. Then he rode away. They had brought me to town. It was dark. +I went home. Yes, it was only a scalp wound, but I was bruised up +pretty bad. + +“I found the note in my pocket--the note that would tell folks who I +had been. I destroyed it and went in the house. No one had told Mary, +but she was worried because I was so late. I was tryin’ to explain +that I was all right, when the door opened and a masked man came in. +Mary and I stood there together and looked at him. He said: + +“‘We thought you was dead, Martin, but it don’t matter. You +double-crossed us today and you’re goin’ to pay.’ + +“All this time he’s got a gun pointed at us. He whistled, and two more +men came in. + +“‘What do you want?’ asked Mary, and the first man laughed. + +“‘You,’ he said. ‘Pretty women are too scarce to waste on a dog like +you’ve got.’ + +“I did not have a gun--nothing but my bare hands, but I sprang for him. +I felt his bullet burn my cheek, and then there came a scream.” + +Martin’s face was agonized and his hands clutched at the table-cover. +Then he looked up at Brick, and his face was bloodless. + +“Yes, that bullet killed her, Davidson--the bullet that was meant for +me. Another shot at me as I caught my foot in the rug and fell. I +guess they thought I was done for, so they left. The shots were heard +and people came. + +“Little Jean had come out from her bed and saw it all. I guess that +saved me, because folks thought I had done it. I think I went crazy +then. + +“I got a gun and went hunting for the man who shot my wife. I think +I just wanted to kill somebody. I had lost all that made life worth +while, and I wanted to find something or somebody that would fight +me. + +“I knew that Ames and Rawls were dead, and I had no idea of who these +three men could be. I didn’t know but what it was my neighbor--anybody. +I don’t know how I expected to find ’em, but I went into the main +street, looking. + +“A horse had fallen in the street and hurt the rider. I met the sheriff, +who was taking the injured man away. The sheriff looked like he had been +fighting. + +“I went to the saloon, where men shrank away from me. I don’t blame +them. I--I wanted to kill somebody. + +“A man was telling about the horse falling. He said that there were two +men. They raced into the street and one of the horses fell. I asked him +who they were. He did not know. + +“Then I knew it was one of the men who killed my wife. I told them. We +went to the jail and took him out. I wanted them to let me have him, +but they wanted to hang him. I think I tied the knot. For some reason +or other I lit a match and looked at him. + +“It was the wrong man. This man was over six feet tall and had no marks +of injury. I think he was half-drunk. We left him and went back, but our +man was gone. We found the sheriff at his shack, but he knew nothing. + +“Since then we’ve kinda moved around, Jean and I. Something seems to +tell me that some day I’ll find that man. Something will tell me who +he is when we meet.” + +Martin finished his tale and put his arms around Jean. + +“What was the sheriff’s name, Martin?” + +“Zell Mohr. He always was sorry for me, and tried to make me give up the +idea of hunting for that man. I reckon he felt sorry for Jean, ’cause I +kinda was unsatisfied in any one place, and when he got this old ranch +he wrote me to come out here.” + +Brick stared at the floor. If Zell Mohr had been the sheriff, why hadn’t +Silent recognized him? + +“Does Zell Mohr look the same as he did then?” + +“Well, mebbe a little older, but----” + +“He doesn’t wear a beard any more, daddy,” said Jean. + +“That’s right, girl. He did used to wear whiskers.” + +Brick rolled a cigaret slowly, and then looked up with a smile. + +“Martin, did yuh ever see a hound catch a coyote?” + +Martin frowned over the seemingly irrelevant question. + +“Why, I--uh--yes, I have.” + +“Could three greyhounds catch a coyote and not get cut up a bit?” + +Martin smiled and shook his head. + +“No, I don’t reckon they could, but they might.” + +“Could three greyhounds catch four coyotes on the same day and not show +a mark?” + +“No!” + +Martin’s reply was very decisive. + +“The coyote would cut some of them, that’s a cinch.” + +“What have hounds and coyotes to do with it?” asked Jean. + +“I dunno,” admitted Brick; “but somethin’, I think. Did yuh ever know a +crippled feller by the name of Limpy Squires?” + +Martin stared at Brick. + +“Limpy Squires? Where is he?” + +“He’s dead. He was drivin’ the stage that got held up, and later on he +starts out with a ridin’-horse and pack-animal, and somebody plugged him +in the back.” + +Martin stared down at the floor and his lips twitched. + +“The fellers that robbed that stage likely killed him,” said Brick. + +Martin looked up. + +“Limpy Squires was my best friend, Davidson, but I did not know he +was in this country. He was one of the old gang, and got his limp +when he stepped between me and a bullet from one of our own gang. He +had to quit the gang on account of that injury. But why did anybody +kill him?” + +“Mebbe,” suggested Brick, “mebbe somebody was afraid you two might +meet.” + +Martin leaned closer to Brick and his voice was tense. + +“Do you think that some of the gang--somebody wanted to get me? Did they +plant that note--and they killed Limpy?” + +“Looks kinda like it,” nodded Brick; and then he told Martin of what +happened at the hold-up, the finding of the note, and of the baffling +footprints. + +“What I want to know is this; where did that woman go? She didn’t jist +evaporate.” + +Martin shook his head and glanced at the connecting door between the +living-room and the empty room where the prisoners had been placed. + +“Can they hear, do yuh think?” asked Brick. + +Jean walked across the room and opened the door. She glanced inside and +turned quickly. + +“They’re gone!” she exclaimed. + +Brick sprang across to the door and looked inside. On the floor were +Three Star’s hat and several pieces of cut rope. + +“Kinda complicates things, pardner,” observed Brick soberly. “Wonder how +much they heard?” + +“Too much, if anything,” replied Martin. “What will we do now?” + +“Meet ’em half-way,” grinned Brick, going to the door. + +At the corner was Bunty’s horse and buggy, and coming around that was +another horse and buggy. On the seat was a tall, raw-boned woman, +handling the lines like a veteran. She jumped out and tied her horse +and came toward the door. + +“Howdy, Mrs. Wesson,” greeted Brick. + +“Well, well, if it ain’t ol’ man Davidson’s prodigal son!” + +Mrs. Wesson threw back her head and laughed. + +“Well, Brickie, ain’t yuh goin’ to introduce me? Where’s your manners?” + +Brick managed to introduce her to Jean and Martin. Mrs. Wesson beamed +upon Jean and patted her shoulder. + +“Honey, I jist found out that there was a girl at the old Weepin’ Tree. +Cale Wesson has knowed it several days, but he ain’t never told me. I +gave him ---- for it, too, and you know what he said? He said I’d talk +the limb off a yucca-tree, and he was sparin’ yuh. Ha, ha, ha! I told +him I had the closest tongue in the world, and he said, ‘Yes--closes’ +to words.’ + +“Ain’t men the dangdest things? Look at Brick Davidson, will yuh? +Wild-ridin’, good-for-nothin’ cowpuncher, but some day some girl will +up and marry him. Fact. Oh, I’ve seen girls make some awful mistakes. + +“Brick’s handsome--I’ll say that much for him; but, honey, them handsome +men don’t always provide hot cakes for your breakfast. But Brick won’t +cuss a woman. I hate a man who cusses at women. I’m goin’ to bend a gun +over Bunty Blair’s head some of these bright afternoons, y’betcha. + +“Met him and Three Star Hennessey about half-way between here and town. +Walkin’. Fact. I stops and says-- + +“‘If you’re just exercisin’ I’ll give yuh a lift up the road a piece and +let yuh get a fresh start.’ + +“Know what Bunty said? He told me to go somewhere. I told him that the +chairs was all reserved for sheriffs, and I’ll be danged if I’d stand +up. Ha, ha, ha! Three Star ain’t so bad, but he’s in bad company. +Talkin’ about standin’ up reminds me of---- Honey, let’s go in out of +the sun.” + +Jean led Mrs. Wesson inside, where she immediately began another +discourse, breaking off to eulogize Jean’s taste in room decoration. + +“Get your bronc,” said Brick. “Let her entertain Jean. I think that me +and you have got a job ahead of us.” + +Martin nodded and listened to Mrs. Wesson talking. + +“She’s the goods, Davidson. Rough as a file, but I’ll bet she’s got a +solid-gold heart. Put overalls and boots on her and she’d look just +like a man.” + +Brick looked at Martin and then stared at his horse. He visualized Mrs. +Wesson in male garb, and a smile crossed his face. He started to put +his foot in the stirrup, but stopped. Then he turned to Martin, who was +putting a saddle on a tall star-faced bay. + +“Say, pardner, that woman didn’t neither fly nor evaporate.” + +Martin turned. + +“Where did she go, Davidson?” + +“Walked away with the men.” + +“I thought yuh said she never left the rock.” + +“I was loco.” + +“How did she leave?” + +Brick swung into his saddle and adjusted himself before replying-- + +“Walked away on her two feet.” + +Martin tied off his cinch and swung into his saddle. + +“Reckon we ought to take the sheriff’s rig back to town with us?” + +Brick shook his head, and they circled the ranch-house, headed for +Marlin City. + + * * * * * + +It was a long, hot walk for Bunty and Three Star. Bunty had managed to +work one hand loose and secure his knife, and the rest had been easy. + +They would have had to pass the open door of the living-room to reach +their rig, and if they circled the house to reach the other side they +might be seen or heard. Three Star advised extreme caution, and Bunty +was willing to accept the advice. + +Bunty was sore, but Three Star was indifferent. Bunty swore he was +going to get a posse and go right back. Three Star wished him the best +of luck, and his well wishes nettled Bunty. + +“Quittin’, are yuh?” snarled Bunty. + +“Not quittin’--quit,” corrected Three Star. + +“You ain’t got no guts,” declared Bunty. “Let ’em treat yuh thataway and +then quit.” + +“I didn’t ‘let’ ’em,” said Three Star, “and yuh can take it from me, +they ain’t going to get another chance. Next time they’ll likely take +your little knife and make yuh swaller it. As far as Brick Davidson is +concerned--I pass.” + +The spectacle of the sheriff and deputy walking into town excited +amusement and interest. Several cowboys were in front of the Dollar +Down, and they lost no time in making an audible demonstration. + +Sitting in front of Wesson’s store were Silent and Harp, the latter +dealing out mournful music, while Silent sang softly and very much off +the key. + +“Looky!” grunted Harp, pointing up the street. “Bunty and Three Star +hammerin’ their own hocks.” + +“Whatcha know?” wondered Silent. + +“Mebbe they know where Brick is--the danged red-headed son of a gun.” + +Bunty and Three Star went straight for the saloon. Silent and Harp went +across the street, arriving there just in time to hear Bunty say-- + +“How many of you fellers want to get in on a reward?” + +Cowboys as a rule are skeptical of such an invitation. + +Zell Mohr came out of the saloon and walked up to the crowd. Bunty +glanced around expectantly, but none of the cowboys seemed to consider +his invitation. + +“I reckon I’ve got to deputize some of yuh,” stated Bunty. + +“Did yuh lose your horse and buggy?” asked Silent. + +“How much reward for gettin’ it back?” asked Bill See, a Triangle Dot +puncher. + +Bunty glared at Silent, but did not speak. + +“What’s the trouble, Bunty?” asked Mohr. + +King Cleeve, attracted by the crowd outside, had left his game and come +out. Bunty saw Cleeve and turned to him. + +“I’ve found the road-agents,” stated Bunty. “Discovered ’em with the +masks in their possession.” + +“Discovered is right,” grinned Three Star. “Bunty talked so much that +they had to muzzle him.” + +Three Star laughed and looked at Zell Mohr. + +“Friends of yours, Mohr. At least, they spoke about you.” + +“Who yuh talkin’ about?” growled Mohr. + +“Brick Davidson and that Martin person,” replied Bunty. “Them two and +the woman are the ones what robbed the stage.” + +Silent elbowed his way to Bunty’s side. + +“Don’t let your cinch slip too much, Bunty.” + +Bunty looked around at the circle of faces, but there was only +curiosity. + +“I’ve got a dead immortal cinch on them,” stated Bunty. “They got the +drop on me and Three Star, but we got away. Now I want help to go and +get ’em.” + +“Me and Harp will help yuh,” said Silent. + +Topaz Tyler added his gaudy presence to the assemblage, stepping easily +that he might not soil his polished boots. + +“Take Topaz,” grinned Silent. “He’ll dazzle ’em and then yuh can hit ’em +from behind.” + +Bunty glared at Silent. + +“Kinda lookin’ for trouble, ain’t yuh, Slade?” + +“Well,” grinned Silent, “I ain’t packin’ no extra spokes for fear I +might get a wheel smashed.” + +Bunty whirled as the crowd laughed, and went straight for his office. +The sheriff of Sun-Dog was disgusted and tired. Three Star started to +follow him, but stopped. + +“Forgot I resigned.” + +Three Star removed the badge of office from the lapel of his vest and +sent it spinning across the street. + +King Cleeve watched Three Star shed his authority, and as the crowd +drifted back into the saloon he stepped in close to Three Star and +said-- + +“What happened out there?” + +“Just what I expected,” said Three Star. “Brick Davidson made a pair of +monkeys out of me and Bunty. They tied us up, but Bunty got his knife +and cut us loose.” + +“What did they talk about?” + +“I dunno--much.” + +Three Star shook his head seriously. + +“I didn’t _sabe_ much they said, but I’m bettin’ that between them +two--Brick and Martin--there’s goin’ to be ---- turned loose in +somebody’s wickiup.” + +“Threats?” + +“Nawsir. I heard yours and Mohr’s name mentioned.” + +Three Star started to go inside, but Cleeve took hold of his sleeve. + +“I’ll make it worth your while to remember what they said.” + +Three Star scratched his chin and then shook his head. + +“Nope. I’m all through buttin’ into Brick Davidson’s business; and +besides I’m gettin’ so I like the ---- fool.” + +Mohr was standing beside the door, and he gave Three Star a searching +glance as he passed. Cleeve went slowly in behind Three Star, and he and +Mohr exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke. Mohr started as if to +go to the hitch-rack, but changed his mind and went inside the saloon. + +Bunty Blair was mad at the world in general and Brick Davidson and Scott +Martin in particular. Here was a chance for him to land two men, whom he +believed guilty of robbery, and to satisfy his revengeful nature at the +same time. + +Bunty was merely incapable as a peace officer. Bunty knew this--knew it +too well for his own conscience. He knew that Brick Davidson thought him +a joke, and it cut deep into Bunty’s tender feelings. Perhaps other men +thought the same as Brick, but they concealed their feelings. + +Bunty slapped his hat on the table. He lifted it up and slapped it +down again. At least neither the table nor the hat would fight back, +and Bunty needed a safety-valve. + +He glowered down at the hat as if it were an inanimate mass of battered +felt, and then walked over to the door. To go after Brick and Martin +single-handed was suicide; to ignore their actions meant ridicule from +the whole county. + +Bunty glanced up the street, and his body stiffened. Coming into the +upper end of town was Brick Davidson on his hammer-headed gray, and +beside him was Scott Martin, on a tall bay. + +Bunty gasped. Of all the unadulterated nerve! Coming right into Marlin +City! Suddenly Bunty laughed aloud; but his laugh contained little +mirth. Brick and Martin must have thought that he and Three Star were +still safely roped in that room. + +Bunty watched them ride up to the hitch-rack, and then he sat down in a +chair to think. His first thought was a glad one--glad that he was not +in the saloon. + + * * * * * + +Brick and Scott Martin had ridden the whole distance from the +ranch-house in silence. Martin did not know what Brick was going to +do in Marlin City, and Brick did not enlighten him. + +Martin studied Brick’s set features and wondered what was to come next. + +“Ridin’ into a noose?” he mused to himself. “If the officers reached +town and told their story, why hasn’t a posse been organized? What has +this red-headed spit-fire in his mind?” + +But the red-head was silent until Marlin City was before them, and then +he said: + +“Pardner, there’s goin’ to be trouble, I reckon; but you let me start +it, will yuh? Mebbe yuh won’t _sabe_ my talk, but don’t let that worry +yuh none. I’m goin’ to force a showdown, and some folks are goin’ to +have some bad cards.” + +Martin nodded. He was pinning his faith to Brick Davidson. + +They entered the saloon and walked up to the bar. Topaz Tyler was +standing at the bar, talking with another man. King Cleeve, in shirt +sleeves and eye-shade, was sitting in a lookout chair at the stud +game, facing the bar. Beside him sat Zell Mohr, hat pulled low over +his eyes, a substantial pile of blue chips in front of him. + +Over at the roulette layout a half-drunken cowboy was trying to shake +the attentions of a dance-hall girl long enough to see if his number +won, while a couple of other cowboys urged the girl to get a rope and +hogtie the spendthrift. + +The room hummed with voices, the rattle of chips, the clink of +glassware, and above it all sounded the tin-panny rattle of a piano. + +Brick and Scott Martin stopped mid-way of the bar and turned facing the +center of the room. Their entrance had attracted no attention, and for a +space of twenty seconds nobody noticed them. + +Suddenly Zell Mohr glanced from under the low-pulled brim of his hat, +straight at the two men. Mohr’s eyes were shaded so it was impossible +to see any change of expression, but his lips never moved. + +“First king bets,” intoned the dealer; but Zell Mohr made no move to +bet. + +“Passin’, Zell?” asked one of the players; but still Mohr made no move +to play. + +King Cleeve looked down at Mohr, and then glanced over at the bar. Brick +Davidson was looking straight at him. King Cleeve blinked perceptibly. + +The dealer sensed the tension of Mohr and Cleeve, and looked over at the +bar. For perhaps ten seconds there was no change in the hum and rattle +of the room, and then the noise died down--down--down, like the slowing +of a big piece of machinery. + +The bulk of the noise stopped; but here and there an extra word, the +rattle of a dropped poker-chip, the last few notes from the piano, as +if played with nervous fingers. + +Then silence. + +Topaz Tyler had half-lifted a glass of liquor to his lips, but his +eyes shifted suddenly and the glass slipped from his fingers, rolled +in a noisy circle on the bar and then fell to the floor. + +Every eye in the place focused on Brick and Scott Martin. + +Brick’s eyes shifted to Topaz, who was half-turned away from the bar, +and his voice was mildly humorous. + +“Losin’ your grip already, Topaz?” + +Topaz did not reply. His hand started toward his face as if to wipe his +lips, but halted short of his chin. He stopped in the attitude of either +deep thought or total abstraction. + +Brick’s eyes flashed back to King Cleeve, but the humor had all gone +from his eyes. Brick was deadly cool. His hands hung loosely at his +sides, but his elbows were half-bent, and his feet were planted far +apart as if to withstand a shock. + +The bartender pussyfooted the length of the bar, getting out of line +with Brick and the crowd. Brick’s eyes flashed sidewise, and then a +grin overspread his face. He appreciated the bartender’s views on the +matter. + +The half-drunken cowboy started to say something, but another cowboy +jerked his sleeve and clapped a hand over the inebriated one’s mouth. +Brick’s eyes flashed from face to face, and then he looked directly at +Zell Mohr, while his hand brushed easily back and forth past the butt +of his holstered gun. + +“What kind of a rifle do you use, Mohr?” + +Mohr stared at Brick for a moment. + +“I shoot a .45-90, it’s any of your business, Davidson.” + +“Did yuh run out of shells the day of the hold-up?” + +Mohr continued to gaze at Brick. Then he looked up at King Cleeve as if +seeking an answer to a foolish question. Then he shook his head slowly. + +“Then why did yuh use a .45-70 ca’tridge when yuh shot at Silent Slade, +down there at the wrecked stage?” + +Mohr leaned forward; a natural enough movement, but it gave him a chance +to move his hands. + +“Keep your elbows on the table!” snapped Brick. + +Silent and Harp moved slowly away from the crowd, and were now standing +nearer the door. Brick’s eyes flashed toward them and then back at Mohr. +Topaz Tyler still stood in the same position, but now his eyes were upon +Cleeve and Mohr as if waiting their next move. Scott Martin was standing +half-facing Topaz, wondering what was to come next. + +“Yuh might answer my last question,” said Brick easily. + +“Who in ---- do you think you are--the judge?” growled Mohr. + +“Mebbe.” + +Brick leaned forward and snapped his next words: + +“I ain’t no lawyer, Zell Mohr, but I’m goin’ to pass on your case right +here and now! Set still!” + +Brick’s eyes shifted to Cleeve’s set features, and then seemed to +consider his next question. + +“Cleeve, you’re a man of intelligence, ain’t yuh? No, yuh don’t need to +answer that. You and Zell Mohr was huntin’ coyotes on the day the stage +was robbed, wasn’t yuh?” + +Cleeve nodded and started to speak, but Brick continued: + +“Zell Mohr’s three greyhounds caught four coyotes for yuh that day. +After the hounds caught them coyotes yuh had to shoot the coyotes, +didn’t yuh?” + +Cleeve nodded. + +“Yuh shot them coyotes with a .45-90, didn’t yuh? Uh-huh. After them +nice slick greyhounds caught the coyotes--you shot ’em.” + +“What are you--” began Cleeve; but Brick continued-- + +“As I said before, you’re a man of intelligence, Cleeve; so I don’t see +why in ---- yuh wanted to lie about them coyotes.” + +Cleeve leaned forward, and his long, tapering fingers seemed to clutch +at the knees of his trousers. + +Mohr leaned back and shifted his feet. + +“Set still!” snapped Brick. “You ain’t started to get tired yet.” + +“What’s all this coyote talk about?” snarled Cleeve. “Nobody lied. The +hounds caught the coyotes----” + +“Yeah?” + +Brick’s tone was very sarcastic. + +“Yuh say they did? Well, now, I’m wonderin’, Cleeve. Them hounds were +as fresh as the mornin’ dew, and not one of ’em had a single scratch. +Did yuh pull the coyotes’ teeth before yuh sent the dogs after ’em?” + +“What are you drivin’ at?” asked Mohr. + +“Drivin’ at the fact that them coyotes was never caught by hounds.” + +“Suppose you want us to prove it to you,” sneered Cleeve, relaxing and +trying to force a smile. + +Brick smiled back at him, but only with his lips. The crowd shifted +uneasily. Topaz Tyler glanced at Brick and then back at Mohr and Cleeve. + +“Cleeve,” observed Brick, “yuh might like to know that I was cold +sober to begin with on the day that you and Topaz Tyler got me drunk +and stole that note out of my pocket. You thought I had the note you +planted at the robbery, and I wanted to be sure that you wanted it +bad enough to steal.” + +King Cleeve’s eyes flashed to Topaz and then back at Brick. Scott Martin +seemed to slide one foot forward as if getting set for a quick move. + +“I don’t know what you mean,” breathed Cleeve. + +“It’s all rot!” snarled Mohr; but his face was green. + +“Y’betcha it’s rot!” exploded Brick. “As rotten a thing as I ever heard. +Set still, Mohr!” + +Silent and Harp had slowly moved closer. Three Star was standing at the +edge of the crowd, but nearer the door, resting both hands on the back +of an empty chair. + +“I’m goin’ back quite a ways,” began Brick as if telling a +matter-of-fact story--“back to the time when Zell Mohr was a sheriff +in Idaho. Remember it, don’t yuh, Mohr? You ought to. + +“Durin’ that time an ex-outlaw was drivin’ a stage. He had reformed +and was goin’ straight. Two of his old pals got in with three other +men, and they framed this stage-driver. The scheme was to force him +to tell them when a big shipment of gold was to be made. This was +all they asked of him; but he overheard their plan to kill him. One +of these polecats wanted this stage-driver’s wife. + +“The stage-driver didn’t know there was more than these two men goin’ to +hold him up, y’understand. He was livin’ straight, and he wanted to keep +on livin’ straight, but they wouldn’t let him. He told ’em of a shipment +comin’ through--a shipment that existed only in his own mind. They held +him up. He was lookin’ for ’em, and he killed the two men who framed +him. Remember it, Mohr?” + +Mohr’s lips did not move. Cleeve’s hands had moved off his knees and +were slightly twitching back along his thighs. + +“Hands nervous, Cleeve?” asked Brick. “Have a little patience. These +other three men shot this stage-driver and thought he was dead. There +was no gold on the stage. But the driver wasn’t dead, Mohr. Some folks +went out and got him. He was hurt kinda bad, but managed to get home +to his wife and little girl. + +“These three men went to his house at night to take this man’s wife, +and they found him there--the man they thought they had killed. They +told him they were going to take his wife, Mohr. Yes, they were goin’ +to take her, but he put up a fight. He didn’t have no gun. One of ’em +shot at him, and the bullet killed the woman.” + +Brick stopped talking. Scott Martin was leaning forward, his eyes +searching the faces before him, while his powerful hands opened and +shut as if hungering for something to crush. Cleeve’s face had gone a +shade paler, and his head seemed to droop lower between his hunched +shoulders. + +“I’m goin’ to tell more,” said Brick softly. “They shot at the +stage-driver again and thought they had killed him, but were mistaken +again. + +“Then they pulled out--fast; that is, two of ’em did. A horse fell with +one of ’em--fell in the street. + +“Remember that, Mohr? You was the sheriff at that time. Do yuh remember +takin’ this man whose horse fell and puttin’ him in jail? He was hurt, +but you didn’t take him to a doctor. No; you was afraid a doctor might +ask questions, or somebody might.” + +Mohr licked his lips. + +“I--I don’t see----” + +“Remember havin’ a fight with a big, tall cowboy that day, Mohr? He +licked yuh, but yuh got help and put him in jail. You only had one +cell in that jail, and yuh had to put this injured man in with the +big feller. You thought that the big feller was too drunk to pay any +attention, didn’t yuh? + +“Remember the mob that went down there to lynch this feller whose horse +fell with him? They knew he was one of the men who killed the woman. +They got the wrong man, but they found it out before they lynched him, +and when they came back the--murderer--was--gone. He never was tried, +because you went there after the mob left--and--took--him--away.” + + * * * * * + +The crowd had hung upon every word, and now all eyes were turned toward +Zell Mohr to see how he was going to take Brick’s accusation. They knew +that Zell Mohr was a gun-fighter. + +Mohr licked his lips and tried to smile at Scott Martin. Then he looked +at Brick. + +“Why--uh--you’re wrong, Davidson. Martin knows--why, I--I’ve been his +friend----” + +Mohr’s voice was pitched very low, and men leaned forward to hear his +words. + +“I--I felt sorry for him.” + +“Did yuh?” grated Brick. “Yuh did--felt sorry for him, like a buzzard +feels sorry for a sick calf.” + +“What does all this talk mean?” asked Topaz Tyler slowly. + +Brick’s eyes shifted, and Topaz glanced down at his feet, seemingly +sorry that he spoke. Brick glanced down at Topaz’ feet. + +“Yuh got small feet, Topaz,” he observed, keeping his eyes on Mohr and +Cleeve but watching Topaz out of the corner of one eye. “Small feet +and small hands. A skirt and a veil is about all yuh need to make you +a perfect lady.” + +Topaz lifted his head and looked directly at Cleeve; but Cleeve seemed +to evade his eyes. + +“Speakin’ of shoes,” said Brick, “you changed yours in a bad place, +Topaz. Why didn’t yuh keep on them high-heels until yuh got out of the +sand?” + +Topaz seemed to stiffen at the question. + +“That cut yuh got on your forearm when the stage was upset never did +heal good; did it, Topaz?” + +Like a flash Topaz lifted his arm and glanced down at it. + +Brick’s sudden question had taken Topaz off his guard, and he had +trapped himself. Topaz realized it, and his eyes shifted like the +eyes of a trapped animal, but he was afraid of the consequences of +any sudden break. + +Brick smiled and began: + +“Cleeve, you and Mohr and Tyler waited a long time to get even with +Scott Martin for that day he busted up your party and didn’t have that +big shipment of gold. You framed that note to implicate Scott Martin, +Jack Oliver and Martin’s daughter. Yes, yuh did.” + +“Now, looky here,” growled Cleeve, sliding off his chair, “you’ve +accused----” + +“Stand still!” snapped Brick. “Hands where they are, Cleeve! I’ll tell +yuh when to move. The prosecution ain’t through yet. You three framed +that robbery with Limpy Squires, and yuh killed him for double-crossin’ +yuh. You wanted to kill him just like yuh wanted to kill Scott Martin +that time. I’m bettin’ that Limpy knew you was the ones what pulled off +that Idaho job, and he was Scott Martin’s friend, and when yuh opened +that treasure-box----” + +Brick stopped. Not a man moved. It might have been a painting or a +group of lay figures for all the movement. Every man in the room was +tensed--nerves taut as fiddle-strings; waiting for the inevitable +crash. + +Then Silent Slade’s voice snapped like a whip-- + +“King Cleeve was the man they wanted to lynch!” + +King Cleeve threw himself sidewise, clawing at his gun; but he never +reached it. Scott Martin had sprung--sprung like a panther, clear of +the floor, circling King Cleeve with those long, muscular arms, and +they crashed out of sight behind the roulette outfit. + +The crowd broke for the front and rear door--anywhere to get out of +line. Mohr’s gun came out like a flash; but Brick’s gun spouted lead +before Mohr’s gun left its holster, and Mohr fell sidewise out of his +chair, shot through the shoulder. + +As Brick whirled around, the powder from Topaz Tyler’s gun burned his +cheek, but the bullet went into the bar-mirror. Silent and Harp fired +at the same time that Brick did, and Topaz Tyler spun on his heel and +went down. + +From the doorway came the _whang_ of a shot, and Brick felt the sharp +sting of a bullet as it burned across his shoulder. Brick whirled to +meet this new menace just in time to see Three Star Hennessey hurl a +heavy chair through the doorway, crashing it into Bunty Blair’s head +and shoulders. + +Bunty went backward off the sidewalk, and Three Star, following the +thrown chair, landed all in a heap on the stunned sheriff. Zell Mohr, +recovering from the shock of Brick’s bullet, managed to get his pistol +into his left hand. + +_Bang!_ + +From under the card-table came the report of a pistol, and the bullet +passed through the high crown of Brick’s hat, lifting it off his head. +Harp Harris sprang across the room, jumped high and came down upon the +card-table, crashing it down upon Zell Mohr, pinning him to the floor. + +Brick glanced out of the door, where Three Star was shaking Bunty back +to life and talking fast. Three Star was telling Bunty in a few words +what a foolish sheriff he was. + +Out from the tangle of broken furniture came Scott Martin. His gun still +hung in its holster. He looked very tired as he passed his hand wearily +across his forehead and looked at Brick. + +An outflung hand and a protruding foot were all that showed from the +wreckage, but the incoming crowd did not seem to think it worth while +to inquire about King Cleeve. + +Scott Martin held out his hand to Brick and their hands met. + +“Thank yuh, Davidson,” said Martin softly. “I’ve waited a long time for +this.” + +“You’re plumb welcome,” smiled Brick. “Had quite a party while it +lasted; didn’t we?” + +The crowd stood around Brick and Martin, but no one seemed to have +anything to say. Silent and Harp lifted the table off Zell Mohr. The +former Idaho sheriff would need considerable patching up before he +could face a judge and jury, but he was still able to curse. + +Then came Bunty Blair, elbowing his way through the crowd. The chair +had spoiled his physical beauty, but reverses seemed to have brought +out a latent quality heretofore unknown to Marlin City. + +He reached down and snapped a pair of handcuffs on Zell Mohr. He glanced +in the direction of King Cleeve and then over at Topaz Tyler. His head +turned and he looked at Brick. + +“Davidson,” he said, “I begs your pardon. I--I almost made a big +mistake.” + +Bunty held out his hand. + +“I’m asking yuh to shake hands with me, Davidson; but I won’t blame yuh +if yuh don’t.” + +Brick grasped his hand. + +“I--I need a good deputy,” said Bunty. “If I could get a good one I--I’d +resign and let him have my job.” + +Brick grinned, but shook his head. + +“I ain’t worth a ---- as a sheriff,” said Bunty bitterly. + + * * * * * + +Brick put his hand on Bunty’s shoulder and looked at Bunty’s face. Brick +swallowed hard. He had antagonized Bunty--detested him--and now he had +suddenly discovered that Bunty was rather human after all. + +“Think it over, will yuh, Brick?” begged Bunty. + +“I know where I throwed my star,” said Three Star. “I can get it--easy.” + +Brick slapped Bunty on the back and walked out of the saloon, with +Scott Martin beside him and Silent and Harp trailing. They walked to +the hitch-rack. + +“Jean will be anxious to know,” said Martin. “Mebbe she’d like to have +you----” + +Brick smiled and shook his head. + +“No, pardner; I reckon it’s your place to tell her about it.” + +“Well--” Scott Martin turned to his horse and then looked at +Brick--“you’re comin’ out soon, ain’t yuh?” + +“Uh-huh.” + +Brick felt tenderly of his sore shoulder. + +“Yeah, I’m comin’ out--soon, but you better tell her all about it. You +know it as well as I do, pardner. You tell her all there is to tell and +get it over with, ’cause--” + +Brick stepped in close and lowered his voice--“’cause when I come out +there I’m goin’ to talk about somethin’ besides fightin’.” + +Martin vaulted to his saddle and rode away with a smile on his face. +The three cowboys mounted their horses and rode the other way toward +the Nine Bar Nine. + +“He ain’t,” stated Silent to no one in particular, “he ain’t goin’ to +talk about fightin’ nor nothin’.” + +“He don’t know for sure,” said Harp, “’cause he ain’t never been married +nor nothin’.” + +Brick grinned back at them. + +“Yeah, he kinda made a clean-up,” said Silent; “but he sure did overlook +one big thing, Harp. He landed the road-agents, but he never got that +box of gold back.” + +“There wasn’t any money stolen,” said Brick. + +“There wasn’t any---- Aw-w-w, whatcha talkin’ about?” + +Harp spurred in close to Brick. + +“Brickie, did you get hit hard enough to make yuh talk thataway?” + +“I think that Limpy knew they was framin’ Scott Martin,” said Brick. “I +ain’t sure of this, but I’m danged sure that they had the goods on Limpy +and threatened to expose him as a member of that old Sandy Creek gang if +he didn’t tip ’em off to a big shipment of gold from the Whippoorwill +mine. + +“Topaz Tyler watched things from the mine end. Limpy was afraid to +jump out of the country, or was hard-boiled enough to take a chance. +He double-crossed ’em, and when they finds it out they killed him +when he was leavin’ the country. + +“When Scott Martin told me his story it looked so much like this same +layout that I figured thisaway; Cleeve was the man Martin wanted to +lynch. Mohr was the sheriff that saved him. It was a cinch that they +worked together. + +“That note implicated a woman. If Bunty had found that note it would ’a’ +been hard to save Scott Martin and Jean. I sure needed a woman. + +“Them tracks in the sand bothered me a lot. Scott Martin remarks that +Mrs. Wesson only needs overalls and boots to look like a man, and right +there it strikes me that Topaz Tyler is my woman. He sets on that rock +and changes back to his own boots; that’s why them female tracks never +left the rock. + +“Them greyhounds not bein’ scratched after catchin’ four coyotes showed +that all was not right. Mohr had a 45-90 Winchester, if yuh remember. +That bullet which barely missed Silent was fired from a 45-70 shell, +which was a good alibi for that 45-90 rifle, but the shell was swollen +at the butt, which showed it wasn’t chambered right in the rifle, and +the firin’-pin hit the primer too high.” + +Silent and Harp grinned at Brick’s snappy explanation. + +“I had ’em cinched,” smiled Brick. “They didn’t have a single chance in +the world except to shoot themselves clear.” + +“But what about that box of gold?” asked Silent. + +“Full of bars of lead. Nothin’ but ordinary lead, Silent.” + +“Well, for gosh sake!” grunted Silent. “Whatcha know about that? Lead +bars!” + +“Two L’s,” said Harp musingly. “Two things that has caused a lot of joy +and a lot of trouble in this old West. One L started it and another L +finished it.” + +“Lead?” asked Silent. + +“Uh-huh,” nodded Harp. “Lead and love.” + +“Some combination.” + +Silent grinned and slapped Brick on the shoulder. + +“I’ll back Brick in either one. The old boy sure does _sabe_ things; +don’t he, Harp?” + +Brick smiled straight ahead; smiled at a day’s work well done; while +from behind them came the thrumming of a jew’s-harp; a jew’s-harp +doing its little best to play a wedding march as the three broncos +shuffled across the hills and the setting sun cast long shadows +across the Sun-Dog trails. + + +[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 3, 1921 issue of +Adventure magazine. This story is believed to be in the public domain +in the United States. Please note that copyright status may differ in +other countries.] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78756 *** |