The Night Riders: A Romance of Early Montana

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XV

  AT WILLOW BLUFF

  Tresler would have liked to see Diane before going out to WillowBluff, but reflection showed him how impossible that would be; atleast, how much unnecessary risk it would involve for her. After whathe had just witnessed of her father, it behooved him to do nothingrashly as far as she was concerned, so he turned his whole attentionto his preparations for departure.

  He had made up his mind as to his comrade without a second thought.Arizona was his man, and he sent the diplomatic Joe out to bring himin from Pine Creek sloughs, where he was cutting late hay for winterstores.

  In about half an hour the American came in, all curiosity andeagerness; nor would he be satisfied until he had been told the wholedetails of the matter that had led up to the appointment. Tresler keptback nothing but his private affairs relating to Diane. At theconclusion of the recital, Arizona's rising temper culminated in anexplosion.

  "Say, that feller Jake's a meaner pirate an' cus as 'ud thieve thesupper from a blind dawg an' then lick hell out o' him 'cos he can'tsee." Which outburst of feeling having satisfied the necessity of themoment, he became practical. "An' you're goin', you an' me?" he askedincredulously.

  "That's the idea, Arizona; but of course you're quite free to pleaseyourself. I chose you; Marbolt gave me the privilege of selection."

  "Wal, guess we'd best git goin'. Willow Bluff station's fair todecent, so we'll only need our blankets an' grub--an' a tidy bunch ofammunition. Guess I'll go an' see Teddy fer the rations."

  He went off in a hurry. Tresler looked after him. It was good to bedealing with such a man after those others, Jake and the rancher.Arizona's manner of accepting his selection pleased him. There was no"yes" or "no" about it: no argument. A silent acceptance and readythought for their needs. A thorough old campaigner. A man to be reliedon in emergency--a man to be appreciated.

  In two hours everything was in readiness, Tresler contenting himselfwith a reassuring message to Diane through the medium of Joe.

  They rode off. Jezebel was on her good behavior, and Arizona's mountkept up with her fast walk by means of his cowhorse amble. As theycame to the ford, Tresler drew up and dismounted, and the otherwatched him while he produced a wicker-covered glass flask from hispocket.

  "What's that?" he asked. "Rye?"

  Tresler shook his head, and tried the metal screw cap.

  "No," he replied shortly.

  Then he leant over the water and carefully set the bottle floating,pushing it out as far as possible with his foot while he supportedhimself by the overhanging bough of a tree. Then he stood watching itcarried slowly amid-stream. Presently the improvised craft darted outwith a rush into the current, and swept onward with the main flow ofthe water. Then he returned and remounted his impatient mare.

  "That," he said, as they rode on, "is a message. Fyles's men are downthe river spying out the land, and, incidentally, waiting to hear fromme. The message I've sent them is a request for assistance at WillowBluff. I have given them sound reason, which Fyles will understand."

  Arizona displayed considerable astonishment, which found expression ina deprecating avowal.

  "Say, I guess I'm too much o' the old hand. I didn't jest think o'that."

  It was all he vouchsafed, but it said a great deal. And the thin faceand wild eyes said more.

  Now they rode on in silence, while they followed the wood-lined trailalong the river. The shade was delightful, and the trail sufficientlysandy to muffle the sound of the horses' hoofs and so leave thesilence unbroken. There was a faint hum from the insects that hauntedthe river, but it was drowsy, soft, and only emphasized the perfectsylvan solitude. After a while the trail left the river and gentlyinclined up to the prairie level. Then the bush broke and becamescattered into small bluffs, and a sniff of the bracing air of theplains brushed away the last odor of the redolent glades they wereleaving.

  It was here that Arizona roused himself. He was of the prairie,belonging to the prairie. The woodlands depressed him, but the prairiemade him expansive.

  "Seems to me, Tresler, you're kind o' takin' a heap o' chances--mostlyonnes'ary. Meanin' ther' ain't no more reason to it than whistlin'Methody hymns to a deaf mule. Can't see why you're mussin' y'self upwi' these all-fired hoss thieves. You're askin' fer a sight more'n youken eat."

  "And, like all men of such condition, I shall probably eat torepletion, I suppose you mean."

  Arizona turned a doubtful eye on the speaker, and quietly spat overhis horse's shoulder.

  "Guess your langwidge ain't mine," he said thoughtfully; "but ifyou're meanin' you're goin' to git your belly full, I calc'late you'reli'ble to git like a crop-bound rooster wi' the moult 'fore you'rethrough. An' I sez, why?"

  Tresler shrugged. "Why does a man do anything?" he askedindifferently.

  "Gener'ly fer one of two reasons. Guess it's drink or wimmin." Againhe shot a speculating glance at his friend, and, as Tresler displayedmore interest in the distant view than in his remarks, he went on. "Iain't heerd tell as you wus death on the bottle."

  The object of his solicitude smiled round on him.

  "Perhaps you think me a fool. But I just can't stand by seeing thingsgoing wrong in a way that threatens to swamp one poor, lonely girl,whose only protection is her blind father."

  "Then it is wimmin?"

  "If you like."

  "But I don't jest see wher' them hoss thieves figger."

  "Perhaps you don't, but believe me they do--indirectly." Treslerpaused. Then he went on briskly. "There's no need to go into detailsabout it, but--but I want to run into this gang. Do you know why?Because I want to find out who this Red Mask is. It is on hispersonality depends the possibility of my helping the one soul on thisranch who deserves nothing but tender kindness at the hands of thoseabout her."

  "A-men," Arizona added in the manner he had acquired in his "religion"days.

  "I must set her free of Jake--somehow."

  Arizona's eyes flashed round on him quickly. "Jest so," he observedcomplainingly. "That's how I wanted to do last night."

  "And you'd have upset everything."

  "Wrong--plumb wrong."

  "Perhaps so," Tresler smiled confidently. "We are all liable tomistakes."

  Arizona's dissatisfied grunt was unmistakable. "Thet's jest how thatsassafras-colored, bull-beef Joe Nelson got argyfyin' when Jake comearound an' located him sleepin' off the night before in the hog-pen.But it don't go no more'n his did, I guess. Howsum, it's wimmin. Say,Tresler," the lean figure leant over toward him, and the wild eyeslooked earnestly into his--"it's right, then--dead right?"

  "When I've settled with her father--and Jake."

  Arizona held out his horny, claw-like hand. "Shake," he said. "I'mglad, real glad."

  They gripped for a moment, then the cowpuncher turned away, and satstaring out over the prairie. Tresler, watching him, wondered at thatlong abstraction. The man's face had a softened look.

  "We all fall victims to it sooner or later, Arizona," he venturedpresently. "It comes once in a man's lifetime, and it comes for goodor ill."

  "Twice--me."

  The hard fact nipped Tresler's sentimental mood in the bud.

  "Ah!"

  The other continued his study of the sky-line. "Yup," he said at last."One died, an' t'other didn't hatch out."

  "I see."

  It was no use attempting sympathy. When Arizona spoke of himself, whenhe chose to confide his life's troubles to any one, he had a way ofstating simple facts merely as facts; he spoke of them because itsuited his pessimistic mood.

  "Yup. The first was kind o' fady, anyways--sort o' limp in thebackbone. Guess I'd got fixed wi' her 'fore I knew a heap. Must 'a'bin. Yup, she wus fancy in her notions. Hated sharin' a pannikin o'tea wi' a friend; guess I see her scrape out a fry-pan oncet. I 'lowsshe had cranks. Guess she hadn't a pile o' brain, neither. She nevercould locate a hog from a sow, an' as fer stridin' a hoss, hell itselfcouldn't 'a' per-suaded her. She'd a notion fer settin' sideways, an'
allus got muleish when you guessed she wus wrong. Yup, she wus red-hoton the mission sociables an' eatin' off'n chiny, an' wa'n't satisfiedwi' noospaper on the table; an' took the notion she'd got pimples, an'worried hell out o' her old man till he bo't a razor an' turned hisfeatures into a patch o' fall ploughin', an' kind o' bulldozed hermother into lashin' her stummick wi' some noofangled fixin' aswouldn't meet round her nowheres noways. An' she wus kind o' finnickywi' her own feedin', too. Guess some wall-eyed cuss had took her intoSacramento an' give her a feed at one of them Dago joints, wher' theydisguise most everythin' wi' langwidge, an' ile, an' garlic, till youhate yourself. Wal, she died. Mebbe she's got all them things handynow. But I ain't sayin' nothin' mean about her; she jest had hernotions. Guess it come from her mother. I 'lows she wus kind o' struckon fool things an' fixin's. Can't blame her noways. Guess I wus mostlysudden them days. Luv ut fust sight is a real good thing when it comesto savin' labor, but like all labor-savin' fixin's, it's liable to gitrattled some, an' then ther' ain't no calc'latin' what's goin' tobust."

  Arizona's manner was very hopeless, but presently he cheered upvisibly and renewed his wad of chewing.

  "T'other wus kind o' slower in comin' along," he went on, in hisreflective drawl. "But when it got around it wus good an' strong,sure. Y' see, ther' wus a deal 'tween us like to make us friendly. Shemade hash fer the round-up, which I 'lows, when the lady's young,she's most gener'ly an objec' of 'fection fer the boys. Guess she wusmost every kind of a gal, wi' her ha'r the color of a field of wheatready fer the binder, an' her figger as del'cate as one o' them crazyegg-bilers, an' her pretty face all sparklin' wi' smiles an'hoss-soap, an' her eye! Gee! but she had an eye. Guess she would 'a'made a prairie-rose hate itself. But that wus 'fore we hooked up in ateam. I 'lows marryin's a mighty bad finish to courtin'."

  "You were married?"

  "Am."

  A silence fell. The horses ambled on in the fresh noonday air.Arizona's look was forbidding. Suddenly he turned and gazed fiercelyinto his friend's face.

  "Yes, sirree. An' it's my 'pinion, in spite of wot some folks sez,gettin' married's most like makin' butter. Courtin's the cream, goodan' thick an' juicy, an' you ken lay it on thick, an' you kind o'wonder how them buzzocky old cows got the savee to perduce sech adaisy liquid. But after the turnin'-point, which is marryin', it'sdiff'rent some. 'Tain't cream no longer. It's butter, an' you need touse it sort o' mean. That's how I found, I guess."

  "I suppose you settled down, and things went all right, though?"suggested Tresler.

  "Wal, maybe that's so. Guess if anythin' wus wrong it wus me. Yer see,ther' ain't a heap o' fellers rightly understands females. I'm mostgener'ly patient. Knowin' their weakness, I sez, 'Arizona, you're mudwhen wimmin gits around. You bein' married, it's your dooty to boostthe gal along.' So I jest let her set around an' shovel orders asthough I wus the hired man. Say, guess you never had a gal shovelin'orders. It's real sweet to hear 'em, an' I figger they knows theirbizness mostly. It makes you feel as though you'd ha'f a dozen handsan' they wus all gropin' to git to work. That's how I felt, anyways.Every mornin' she'd per-suade me gentle out o' bed 'fore daylight, an'I'd feel like a hog fer sleepin' late. Then she'd shovel the ordershansum, in a voice that 'ud shame molasses. It wus allus 'dear' or'darlin'.' Fust haul water, then buck wood, light the stove, feed thehogs an' chick'ns, dung out the ol' cow, fill the lamp, rub down themare, pick up the kitchen, set the clothes bilin', cook the vittles,an' do a bit o' washin' while she turned over fer five minits. Thenshe'd git around, mostly 'bout noon, wi' her shower o' ha'r trailin'like a rain o' gold-dust, an' a natty sort o' silk fixin' which shecalled a 'dressin'-gown,' an' she'd sot right down an' eat thevittles, tellin' me o' things she wanted done as she'd fergot. Ther'wus the hen-roost wanted limin', she was sure the chick'ns had thebugs, an' the ol' mare's harness wanted fixin', so she could driveinto town; an' the buckboard wanted washin', an' the wheels greasin'.An' the seat wus kind o' hard an' wanted packin' wi' a pillar. Thenther' wus the p'tater patch wanted hoein', an' the cabb'ges. An' thehay-mower wus to be got ready fer hayin'. She mostly drove thatherself, an' I 'lows I wus glad."

  Arizona paused and took a fresh chew. Then he went on.

  "Guess you ain't never got hitched?"

  Tresler denied the impeachment. "Not yet," he said.

  "Hah! Guess it makes a heap o' diff'rence."

  "Yes, I suppose so. Sobers a fellow. Makes him feel like settlingdown."

  "Wal, maybe."

  "And where's your wife living now?" Tresler asked, after anotherpause.

  "Can't rightly say." There was a nasty sharpness in the manner Arizonajerked his answer out. "Y' see, it's this a-ways. I guess I didn'tamount to a deal as a married man. Leastways, that's how she gotfiggerin' after a whiles. Guess I'd sp'iled her life some. I 'lows Iwus allus a mean cuss. An' she wus real happy bakin' hash. Guess Idruv her to drinkin' at the s'loon, too, which made me hate myselfwuss. Wal, I jest did wot I could to smooth things an' kep goin'. Igot punchin' cows agin, an' give her every cent o' my wages; but itwa'n't to be." The man's voice was husky, and he paused to recoverhimself. And then hurried on as though to get the story over as soonas possible. "Guess I wus out on the 'round-up' some weeks, an' then Icome back to find her gone--plumb gone. Mebbe she'd got lonesome; Ican't say. Yup, the shack wus empty, an' the buckboard gone, an' theblankets, an' most o' the cookin' fixin's. It wus the neighbors put mewise. Neighbors mostly puts you wise. They acted friendly. Ther'd bina feller come 'long from Alberta, a pretty tough Breed feller. He wentby the name o' 'Tough' McCulloch."

  Tresler started. But Arizona was still staring out at the distantprairie, and the movement escaped him.

  "Guess he'd bin around the shack a heap," he went on, "an' the day'fore I got back the two of 'em had drove out wi' the buckboardloaded, takin' the trail fer the hills. I put after 'em, but neverfound a trace. I 'lows the feller had guts. He left a message on thetable. It wus one o' his guns--loaded. Likely you won't understan',but I kep' that message. I ain't see her sence. I did hear tell shewus bakin' hash agin. I 'lows she could bake hash. Say, Tresler, I'velost hogs, an' I've lost cows, but I'm guessin' ther' ain't nothin' inthe world meaner than losin' yer wife."

  Tresler made no reply. What could he say? "Tough" McCulloch! the namerang in his ears. It was the name Anton had been known by in Canada.He tried to think what he ought to do. Should he tell Arizona? No. Hedared not. Murder would promptly be done, if he knew anything of theAmerican. No doubt the Breed deserved anything, but there was enoughsavagery at Mosquito Bend without adding to it. Suddenly anotherthought occurred to him.

  "Did you know the man?" he asked.

  "Never set eyes on him. But I guess I shall some day." And Tresler'sdecision was irrevocably confirmed.

  "And the 'gun' message?"

  "Wal, it's a way they have in Texas," replied Arizona. "A loaded gunis a mean sort o' challenge. It's a challenge which ain't fer thepresent zacly. Guess it holds good fer life. Et means 'on sight.'"

  "I understand."

  And the rest of the journey to Willow Bluff was made almost insilence.

  The wonderful extent of the blind man's domain now became apparent.They had traveled twenty miles almost as the crow flies, and yet theyhad not reached its confines. As Arizona said, in response to aremark from his companion, "The sky-line ain't no limit fer the blindhulk's land."

  Willow Bluff was, as its name described, just a big bluff of woodlandstanding at the confluence of two rivers. To the south and west it wasopen prairie. The place consisted of a small shack, and a group oflarge pine-log corrals capable of housing a thousand head of stock.And as the men came up they saw, scattered over the adjacent prairie,the peacefully grazing beeves which were to be their charge.

  "A pretty bunch," observed Arizona.

  "Yes, and a pretty place for a raid."

  At that moment the doings of the raiders were uppermost in Tresler'smind.

  Then they proceeded to take possession. They found Jim Henderson, amea
n looking Breed boy, in the shack, and promptly set him to work toclean it out. It was not a bad place, but the boys had let it get intoa filthy condition, in the customary manner of all half-breeds.However, this they quickly remedied, and Tresler saw quite a decentprospect of comfort for their stay there.

  Arizona said very little while there was work to be done. And hiscompanion was astonished, even though he knew him so well, at hiscapacity and forethought. Evening was the most important time, andhere the cattleman stood out a master of his craft. The beeves had tobe corralled every night. There must be no chance of straying, sincethey were sold, and liable for transport at any moment. This work, andthe task of counting, demanded all the cattleman's skill. Bands offifty were rounded up, cut out from the rest, and quietly brought in.When each corral was filled, and the whole herd accommodated for thenight, a supply of fresh young hay was thrown to them to keep themoccupied during their few remaining hours of waking. Arizona was agiant at the work; and to see his lithe, lean body swaying this wayand that, as he swung his well-trained pony around the ambling herd,his arms and "rope" and voice at work, was to understand something ofthe wild life that claimed him, and the wild, untrained nature whichwas his.

  The last corral was fastened up, and then, but not until then, the twofriends took leisure.

  "Wal," said Arizona, as they stood leaning against the bars of thebiggest corral, "guess ther's goin' to be a night-guard?"

  "Yes. These boys are smart enough lads, it seems. We'll let them taketwo hours about up to midnight You and I will do the rest."

  "An' the hull lot of us'll sleep round the corrals?"

  "That's it."

  "An' the hosses?"

  "We'll keep them saddled."

  "An' the sheriff's fellers?"

  "That I can't say. We're not likely to see them, anyway."

  And so the plans were arranged, simple, even hopeless in construction.Two men, for they could not depend on the half-breeds, to facepossibly any odds should the raider choose this spot for attack. Buthowever inadequate the guard, there was something morally strong inthe calm, natural manner of its arranging. These two knew that in caseof trouble they had only themselves to depend on. Yet neitherhesitated, or balked at the undertaking. Possibilities never enteredinto their calculations.

  The first and second night produced no alarm. Nor did they receive anynews of a disturbing nature. On the third day Jacob Smith rode intotheir camp. He was a patrol guard, on a visiting tour of the outlyingstations. His news was peaceful enough.

  "I don't care a cuss how long the old man keeps the funks," he said,with a cheery laugh. "I give it you right here, this job's a snap. Iride around like a gen'l spyin' fer enemies. Guess Red Mask has hisuses."

  "So's most folk," responded Arizona, "but 'tain't allus easy tolocate."

  "Wal, I guess I ken locate his jest about now. I'm sort o' lyin'fallow, which ain't usual on Skitter Bend."

  "Guess not. He's servin' us diff'rent."

  "Ah! Doin' night-guard? Say, I'd see blind hulk roastin' 'fore I'dhang on to them beasties. But it's like you, Arizona. You hate himwuss'n hell, an' Jake too, yet you'd--pshaw! So long. Guess I'd bestget on. I've got nigh forty miles to do 'fore I git back."

  And he rode away, careless, thoughtless, in the midst of a very realdanger. And it was the life they all led. They asked for a wage, abunk, and grub; nothing else mattered.

  Tresler had developed a feeling that the whole thing was a matter ofform rather than dead earnest, that he had been precipitate in sendinghis message to the sheriff. He wanted to get back to the ranch. Heunderstood only too well how he had furthered Jake's projects, andcursed himself bitterly for having been so easily duped. He wascomfortably out of the way, and the foreman would take particularlygood care that he should remain so as long as possible. Arizona, too,had become anything but enlivening. He went about morosely and snappedvillainously at the boys. There was no word in answer to the messageto the sheriff. They daily searched the bluff for some sign, butwithout result, and Tresler was rather glad than disappointed, whileArizona seemed utterly without opinion on the matter.

  The third night produced a slight shock for Tresler. It was midnight,and one of the boys roused him for his watch. He sat up, and, to hisastonishment, found Arizona sitting on a log beside him. He waiteduntil the boy had gone to turn in, then he looked at his friendinquiringly.

  "What's up?"

  And Arizona's reply fairly staggered him. "Say, Tresler," he said, ina tired voice, utterly unlike his usual forceful manner, "I jestwanted to ast you to change 'watches' wi' me. I've kind o' lost mygrip on sleep. Mebbe I'm weak'nin' some. I 'lows I'm li'ble to gitsleepy later on, an' I tho't, mebbe, ef I wus to do the fustwatch--wal, y' see, I guess that plug in my chest ain't done me a heapo' good."

  Tresler was on his feet in an instant. It had suddenly dawned on himthat this queer son of the prairie was ill.

  "Rot, man!" he exclaimed. His tone in no way hid his alarm. They wereat the gate of the big corral, hidden in the shadow cast by the highwall of lateral logs. "You go and turn in. I'm going to watch tilldaylight."

  "Say, that's real friendly," observed the other, imperturbably. "Butit ain't no use. Guess I couldn't sleep yet."

  "Well, please yourself. I'm going to watch till daylight." Tresler'smanner was quietly decided, and Arizona seemed to accept it.

  "Wal, ef it hits you that a-ways I'll jest set around till I gitsleepy."

  Tresler's alarm was very real, but he shrugged with a great assumptionof indifference and moved off to make a round of the corrals,carefully hugging the shadow of the walls as he went. After a while hereturned to his post. Arizona was still sitting where he had left him.

  There was a silence for a few minutes. Then the American quietly drewhis revolver and spun the chambers round. Tresler watched him, and theother, looking up, caught his eye.

  "Guess these things is kind o' tricksy," he observed, in explanation,"I got it jammed oncet. It's a decent weapon but noo, an' I ain't fernoo fixin's. This hyar," he went on, drawing a second one from itsholster, "is a 'six' an' 'ud drop an ox at fifty. Ha'r trigger too.It's a dandy. Guess it wus 'Tough' McCulloch's. Guess you ain't gotyours on your hip?"

  Tresler shook his head. "No, I use the belt for my breeches, and keepthe guns loose in my pockets when I'm not riding."

  "Wrong. Say, fix 'em right. You take a sight too many chances."

  Tresler laughingly complied "I'm not likely to need them, butstill----"

  "Nope." Arizona returned his guns to their resting-place. Then helooked up. "Say, guess I kind o' fixed the hosses diff'rent. Ourhosses. Bro't 'em up an' stood 'em in the angle wher' this corraljoins the next one. Seems better; more handy-like. It's sheltered, an'ther's a bit of a sharp breeze. One o' them early frosts." He lookedup at the sky. "Guess ther' didn't ought. Ther' ain't no moon tillnigh on daylight. Howsum, ther' ain't no argyfyin' the weather."

  Tresler was watching his comrade closely. There was something peculiarin his manner. He seemed almost fanciful, yet there was a wonderfulalertness in the rapidity of his talk. He remained silent, and,presently, the other went on again, but he had switched off to a freshtopic.

  "Say, I never ast you how you figgered to settle wi' Jake," he said."I guess it'll be all"--he broke off, and glanced out prairieward, butwent on almost immediately,--"a settlin'. I've seen you kind o' riled.And I've seen Jake." He stood up and peered into the darkness while hetalked in his even monotone. "Yup," he went on, "ther's ways o'dealin' wi' men--an' ways. Guess, now, ef you wus dealin' wi' anhonest citizen you'd jest talk him fair. Mind, I figger to know you aheap." His eyes suddenly turned on the man he was addressing, butreturned almost at once to their earnest contemplation of the blackvista of grass-land. "You'd argyfy the point reas'nable, an' leave thegal to settle for you. But wi' Jake it's diff'rent." His hand slowlywent round to his right hip, and suddenly he turned on his friend witha look of desperate meaning. "D'you know what it'll be 'tween you two?This is what it means;" and he
whipped out the heavy six that had oncebeen "Tough" McCulloch's, and leveled it at arm's length outprairieward. Tresler thought it was coming at him, and sprang back,while Arizona laughed. "This is what it'll be. You'll take a carefulaim, an' if you've friends around they'll see fair play, sure. I guessthey'll count 'three' for you, so. Jest one, two, an' you'll both fireon the last, so. Three!"

  There was a flash, and a sharp report, and then a cry split the stillnight air. Tresler sprang at the man whom he now believed was mad, butthe cry stayed him, and the next moment he felt the grip of Arizona'ssinewy hand on his arm, and was being dragged round the corral as thesound of horses' hoofs came thundering toward him.

  "It's them!"

  It was the only explanation Arizona vouchsafed. They reached thehorses and both sprang into the saddle, and the American's voicewhispered hoarsely--

  "Bend low. Guess these walls'll save us, an' we've got a sheer sighto' all the corral gates. Savee? Shoot careful, an' aim true. An' watchout on the bluff. The sheriff's around."

  And now the inexperienced Tresler saw the whole scheme. The masterlygeneralship of his comrade filled him with admiration. And he hadthought him ill, his brain turned! For some reason he believed theraiders were approaching, but not being absolutely sure, he had foundan excuse for not turning in as usual, and cloaked all his suspicionsfor fear of giving a false alarm. And their present position was oneof carefully considered strategy; the only possible one from whichthey could hope to achieve any advantage, for, sheltered, they yet hadevery gate of the corrals within gunshot.

  But there was little time for reflection or speculation. If thesheriff's men came, well and good. In the meantime a crowd of a dozenmen had charged down upon the corrals, a silent, ghostly band; theonly noise they made was the clatter of their horses' hoofs.

  Both men, watching, were lying over their horses' necks. Arizona wasthe first to shoot. Again his gun belched a death-dealing shot.Tresler saw one figure reel and fall with a groan. Then his own gunwas heard. His aim was less effective, and only brought a volley inreply from the raiders. That volley was the signal for the real battleto begin. The ambush of the two defenders was located, and therustlers divided, and came sweeping round to the attack.

  But Arizona was ready. Both horses wheeled round and raced out oftheir improvised fort, and Tresler, following the keen-witted man,appreciated his resource as he darted into another angle between twoother corrals. The darkness favored them, and the rustlers swept by.Arizona only waited long enough for them to get well clear, then hisgun rang out again, and Tresler's too. But the game was played out. Astraggler sighted them and gave the alarm, and instantly the rest tookup the chase.

  "Round the corrals!"

  As he spoke Arizona turned in his saddle and fired into the mob. Aperfect hail of shots replied, and the bullets came singing all roundthem. He was as cool and deliberate as though he were huntingjack-rabbits. Tresler joined him in a fresh fusillade, and two moresaddles were emptied, but the next moment a gasp told Arizona that hiscomrade was hit, and he turned only just in time to prevent himreeling out of the saddle.

  "Hold up, boy!" he cried. "Kep your saddle if hell's let loose. I'llkep 'em busy."

  And the wounded man, actuated by a similar spirit, sat bolt upright,while the two horses sped on. They were round at the front again. Butthough Arizona was as good as his word, and his gun was emptied andreloaded and emptied again, it was a hopeless contest--hopeless fromthe beginning. Tresler was bleeding seriously from a wound in hisneck, and his aim was becoming more and more uncertain. But his willwas fighting hard for mastery over his bodily weakness. Just as theyheaded again toward the bluff, Arizona gave a great yank at his reinsand his pony was thrown upon its haunches. The Lady Jezebel, too, asthough working in concert with her mate, suddenly stopped dead.

  The cause of the cowpuncher's action was a solitary horseman standingright ahead of them gazing out at the bluff. The plainsman's gun wasup in an instant, in spite of the pursuers behind. Death was in hiseye as he took aim, but at that instant there was a shout from thebluff, and the cry was taken up behind him--"Sheriff's posse!" Thatcry lost him his chance of fetching Red Mask down. Before he could letthe hammer of his gun fall, the horseman had wheeled about andvanished in the darkness.

  Simultaneously the pursuers swung out, turned, and the next momentwere in full retreat under a perfect hail of carbine-fire from thesheriff's men.

  And as the latter followed in hot pursuit, Arizona hailed them--

  "You've missed him; he's taken the river-bank for it. It's Red Mask! Isee him."

  But now Tresler needed all his friend's attention. Arizona saw himfall forward and lie clinging to his saddle-horn. He sprang to hisaid, and, dismounting, lifted him gently to the ground. Then he turnedhis own horse loose, leading the Lady Jezebel while he supported thesick man up to the shack.

  Here his patient fainted dead away, but he was equal to the emergency.He examined the wound, and found an ugly rent in the neck, whence theblood was pumping slowly. He saw at once that a small artery had beensevered, and its adjacency to the jugular made it a matter of extremedanger. His medical skill was small, but he contrived to wash and bindthe wound roughly. Then he quietly reloaded his guns, and, with theaid of a stiff horn of whisky, roused some life in his patient. Heknew it would only be a feeble flicker, but while it lasted he wantedto get him on to the Lady Jezebel's back.

  This he contrived after considerable difficulty. The mare resented thedouble burden, as was only to be expected. But the cowpuncher wasdesperate and knew how to handle her.

  None but Arizona would have attempted such a feat with a horse of herdescription; but he must have speed if he was going to save hisfriend's life, and he knew she could give it.