`I hear as how yu bin havin' a look at the country, Green,' he said, with a wide grin.
`An' that yu found the rustlers' hang-out,' added Nigger, with a marked emphasis on the last word.
Will yu walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly,' hummed another. `An' the fly wasn't fly enough to.'
A shout of laughter greeted this effort, and Durran slapped the singer enthusiastically on the back. `"That's damned good, Bent,' he cried. `The spider--haw, haw! Damned good, that is. An' do yu reckon the parlour mighta bin a sandy one?'
`I guess likely it was,' grinned Bent. `An' the unsuspicious insect musta belonged to the specie the gardener sharps call greenfly.'
This sally produced a positive howl of mirth, and Durran rocked to and fro, slapping the humorist's back, and murmuring, `Yu shore will be the death o' me, Bent.'
The man at whom these gibes were directed looked around with a sardonic smile. He saw Larry and his little following were taking no part in the merriment, and that Snap Lunt was watching him curiously. The little gunman did not appear to be amused, but he was clearly interested. Dropping easily into a seat, Green waited until all the would-be wits had had their say and then fired a return shot.
`This is shore the best-tempered outfit I ever met up with,' and there was an edge on his voice which cut like a razor. `Why, if any gang had run a blazer like this "joke" on the old K T in Texas, the boys would've painted for war immediate. But I reckon yu ain't called "Wise-heads" for nothin', and the Double X has got yu right buffaloed.'
This was another aspect of the affair, and even the loudest laughers looked a bit uncomfortable, while on the younger men the effect was electrical. Ginger sprang to his feet instantly.
`Buffaloed nothin',' he cried. `Why, if anybody's goin' to think that, me an' two-three of us'll go an' corral the Double X gang an' hang 'em over the cliff in their own ropes.'
Green laughed. `Sho, that wouldn't be the act of a "Wise-head," Ginger,' he reproved. `Yu needn't to worry none about them jokers, either--they'll get theirs. I don't need help to curry a little hoss like that. An' yore foreman'll tell yu that yu got a bigger job. Yu gotta find the Injuns who are rustlin' steers an' killin' yore friends.'
`I thought that was yore job,' sneered Blaynes.
`Why, I believe the Old man did say somethin' about it,' replied the puncher evenly. `I'll have to 'tend to it.'
`An' watch out for the spider,' jeered Durran.
`I shore will. I'm obliged to yu for remindin' me, Durran,' smiled Green, not failing to note the scowl which the foreman directed at the speaker.
Chapter VII
ON the following morning a rider spurred his mount down the main and only street of Hatchett's Folly, and found it, as he had expected at that time of the day, deserted, save for a dog or two prowling in search of spots where the blistering sun could not reach them with its full intensity. Without troubling to slow up, he wrenched a bit and brought his horse no a sliding stop in front of the Folly saloon, the dug-in hoofs sending up clouds of dust. He was a short, stoutish man of about thirty, with hair almost bleached by the sun, and a blob of a nose which had heavenly aspirations and had got its owner into more trouble than any respectable nose should.
Dismounting with a whoop, he hitched his pony to the rail, and entered the saloon. He found it almost as deserted as the street outside. Two men were playing cards in a desultory way at one of the tables, and another was leaning carelessly against the bar, talking to Silas. One glance at this third made the newcomer stiffen and hesitate in the doorway; but it was too late for retreat : the barkeeper had seen him.
`Howdy, Snub ! Come right in,' he called. `How long yu bin sufferin' from it?'
`Sufferin' from what?' asked the other, as he complied with the invitation.
`Bashfulness at the sight of a bar,' was the reply.
`Ain't never had it,' retorted the newcomer. `That sun's powerful glary out there, an' for a minit I couldn't see a thing.'
At the mention of the name, Green shot one swift glance at the man, but showed no other sign of interest. Snub exchanged greetings with the other two citizens and poured himself a generous drink from the bottle Silas pushed forward.
`How's tricks at the Double X?' asked that worthy.
`So so. Them damn Injuns lifted another half-dozen head, an' Dex is hoppin' mad about it,' replied the puncher, watching Green warily as he spoke. Did the fellow know him or not? he wondered. The nickname so incautiously divulged in the canyon might have escaped the captive's notice; there was nothing in the lounging figure to lead him to think otherwise, and he began to feel easier. Rolling a cigarette, he put it between his lips and struck a match. He was in the act of lighting up when a shot crashed, and the bullet twitched the burning wood from his fingers. It was immediately followed by a second, which removed half of his cigarette, and a third which tore away the remaining portion, leaving only fragments of paper and tobacco clinging to his lips.
`What the 'ell?' he gasped, gazing pop-eyed at the still-lolling
stranger, whose eyes gleamed with satanic amusement, and around whose hips blue smoke was eddying.
`Just a little joke--little practical joke, friend--habit I got,' explained the marksman in a soft drawling voice. `Seein' that I've just naturally ruined yore smoke, have a cigar with me.'
He motioned to Silas, threw the money on the counter and went out, unconcernedly turning his broad back and offering an easy target. But Snub watched him go in a kind of trance.
`My Gawd!' he said in an awed voice. `Three shots, firin' from the hip. An' I was watchin' him an' never saw a move. Who is he?'
`That's the new "Wise-head" puncher,' said the barkeeper with a sly smile, for he had his own opinion of Snub, and was not greatly grieved to see him set back a little.
`I know that. An' he's shore got the right brand. But who is he?' persisted the victim of the `little joke.' Then, with a shaky laugh, he added, `An' that's the feller Poker is claimin' he'll get. Well, he can have him--entire--hide, horns, hoofs, an' taller. I don't want none m'self.'
`Yu oughtta be thankful yore nose is set the way it is,' grinned Silas. `If yu had bin a Jew, yore smeller woulda bin plumb spoiled by that last shot.'
`An' that's awful true,' chimed in another voice, and Snap Lunt joined them. "Lo, Silas. 'Lo, Snub; yu look like yu been seein' visions.'
`Did yu see it, Snap?' asked the bartender.
`Yeah, I was at the door,' was the reply. `Pretty fair shootin'.' `Pretty fair shootin'?' repeated the indignant victim. `Why, I reckon even yu couldn't equal it, Snap.'
`Mebbe not,' retorted the gunman, with the nearest thing to a smile that ever appeared on his face. `But roll yoreself a pill; I'm willin' to try.'
`Not on me, yu won't,' Snub said instantly. `I take it back. Yu could do it--an' more. I don't want no proof. Here, Silas, give this bloody-minded sharp-shooter somethin' else to think of. An' he called it a joke, Snap. What yu think o' that?'
`Well, if that's his idea of a joke, I should walk round him, a long way round him--mile or so--when he's feelin' humorous,' Lunt replied. Meanwhile the subject of this conversation, on leaving the saloon, had gone to the main emporium of the place, a sort of general store which stood next to the hotel. He had not noticed Snap, for the gunman, seeing that he was about to come out, had slipped round the corner of the Folly. He found the proprietor, a grizzled old pioneer of sixty, ready to talk.
Was that shootin' I heard over to the s'loon?' he asked.
`Only a puncher a-showin' off. No harm done,' Green toldhim. 'Gimmee two boxes o' forty-fives an' a coupla sacks o' smokin'. Don't sell no cigarette-making machines, I s'pose?' `Never heard tell of 'em,' said the merchant. `Fellers 'bout here all got fingers.'
`Yu been here a long whiles?' the puncher queried, while the ordered goods were being produced.
`I helped to start the blasted place--come in with old Hatchett hisself. Yessir, an' we all reckoned we was goin' to strike it rich, but it was a false alarm. My, but she w
as a lively town while the gold-boom lasted ! An' there was more money in undertakin' than minim'. I expect I'm about the on'y one o' that crowd left.'
`Yu was here when Old Simon sifted in from--now where was it I heard he came from?'
`Texas. Though I can't call to mind the name o' the place. Yes, that'd be around eighteen years back. It was him comin' decided me to stop on. Curious feller, Old Simon. Kept his affairs strictly under his own hat. Allus give me the idea he didn't want to be found.'
`How was that?' Green asked interestedly.
`Just a fancy o' mine, p'raps; but years ago I've seen him in thisyer store, an' if a stranger come into town he'd keep outa sight till he'd had a good look at him.'
`Ever see his wife?'
`He didn't have none when he come here. There was just him, and the girl, and a Injun woman to keep house an' look after the kid.'
Glancing out of the door, Green saw the Double X puncher crossing the street to the hotel, outside which he was joined by the slouching figure of the gambler, Poker Pete. They stood conversing a few moments, and then the cowboy got his horse, mounted, and rode in the direction of his ranch. His companion re-entered the hotel. Green turned no the storekeeper.
`How long has that tinhorn card-sharp, Pete, been infestin' these parts?' he asked.
The old man made a gesture of caution. `For the love o' Mike don't shout it,' he urged. `While I allow he's all that an' more, it ain't noways wise to say so. He's got a powerful pull in these parts, an' fellers as go against him don't seem to last long. He don't live here--been sort o' payin' visits off an' on 'bout two years, stayin' at the hotel.'
`Well, I'm shore scared,' laughed the customer, as he paid for his purchases. `So long, old-timer.'
Crossing the street, he mounted his horse, fully conscious that he was being watched by at least a dozen citizens. The story of his `joke' on Snub was now common property and men who had not seen the shooting naturally wanted a look at the man who had done it. Opposite the hotel he pulled up and sat looking at the building. `The buzzard shan't say I didn't give him a chance no make a play,' he muntered. But the gambler did not appear, and after a wait of some minutes, Green rode on.
Three miles out of the town the trail forked, one way leading to the Y Z, and the other to the Double X. Green hesitated here, and then selected the latter. Passing through a narrow, winding gorge a faint clink, as of metal upon stone, warned him that another traveller was behind. He could see no one, but not feeling in the mood for risks, promptly took cover behind a clump of scrub-oak some ten yards from the trail. As the rider emerged round the bend, the watcher gripped the nostrils of his pony to prevent it from whinnying. The other traveller proved to be Poker Pete. He loped past unsuspectingly, hunched in his saddle, and with a dark frown on his unprepossessing feanures.
Now where's he goin'?' speculated nhe cowboy. `Can't be follerin' me--he'd expect me to take the other trail. Well, there's on'y one way to find out.'
He mounned and rode cautiously in the wake of the gambler, keeping well to the rear, and guiding his horse into the soft parts of the trail so that no sound of hoof should reach the man in front. The frequent bends and twists in the trail made it a simple matter to keep out of sight. It was after a rather abrupt turn that he feared he had lost his quarry. The gambler was not in view, despite a straight stretch ahead which he could hardly have covered in the time without a considerable speeding up. Green looked about for another explanation of his disappearance. A cracking twig supplied one. It came from a narrow draw on the left of the trail. There was a faint pathway, and the puncher, keeping a wary eye on the undergrowth, followed it. Presently a thin spiral of smoke showed against the right-hand wall of the draw, and he heard a voice say: "Lo, Pete. Yu bin a long time a-comin'.'
Green slid from the saddle, tied the animal in the bushes, and began to climb the side of the draw. Foot by foot he worked his way up and along until, by parting the coarse grass, he could see the spot from which the smoke was ascending. By the side of a small fire Pete and Snub were squatting cross-legged, and the cowboy was pouring coffee from a battered pot into two tin mugs. Green had missed some of the conversation, but he soon gathered that Pete was in a vile temper.
`Four of yu, an' then yu had to let him get away,' he sneered. `Why didn't yu bump him off an' plant him 'stead o' makin' that fool-play?'
`It looked a shore thing,' remonstrated the other. `Blamed if I know how he got clear--must be a wizard.'
The gambler made a gesture of disgust. `Wizard nothin'. O' course somebody happened along an' helped him; an' he's got the Iaugh on yu.'
`He shore has, an' a new rope into the bargain,' agreed the puncher, with a grin which aggravated his companion still further.
`Yu don't appear to be able to get it into yore head that this feller is dangerous--dangerous, I tell yu,' he rapped out.
`My gracious, yu don't say! Fancy me never suspectin that!' was the ironical retort.
`An' yu had another chance, back there in the Folly,' the gambler went on. `He shoots yu up an' turns his back on yu, an' yu got yore gun. 'Stead o' beefin' him, yu stand there like a blasted image.'
`Yu seen that, did yu?' inquired Snub.
`I was told by them that did,' replied Pete. `They said yu was scared cold.'
`They was right,' Snub admitted. `I'm allus willin' to take a chance, but there warn't no chance. If I'd pulled my gun I wouldn't be here a-talkin' to you--not that I'd be missin' much thataway. I knew he'd get me, an' I knew too that he wanted me to draw--he was playin' for it. I ain't near tired o' life yet, an' I ain't no cat neither, with nine of 'em to gamble with.'
`Shucks! I never seen the gun-slinger yet that couldn't be got,' sneered Pete. `But o' course if yo're scared...'
`I am,' said Snub. `But that don't go for everybody. If yu think yu can ride me...'
There was an ugly look on his face, and his right hand was not far from his gun. The man on the opposite side of the fire laughed crossly.
`I ain't tryin' to ride yu, yu fool,' he said. `We gotta work together, and this feller is interferin' an' has gotta be suppressed.'
`Good word that! Might mean anythin',' laughed the puncher. `Well, go to it, Pete. Yu shore have my best wishes. An' if there's any particular spot yu'd like to be buried in, let me know, an' I'll tend to it. Yu near got him once, didn't yu?'
The gambler swore luridly, and his fingers inched to pull the shoulder gun and shoot down the man who jeered at him, but the lifelong habit of control engendered by his profession enabled him to conceal his feelings.
`I was unlucky,' he said quietly. `The game ain't played out yet.'
`Yu better tell Spider--' the puncher began.
`Shut yore fool trap,' fiercely interrupted the other, with an anxious glance round. `Ain't yu got more sense than to say names?'
`Well, who's to hear 'em in this Gawd-forsaken spot?' protested the puncher. `Yu don't reckon the cayuses'll tell, do yu?'
The gambler shrugged his shoulders. `Seems like I gotta work with a passel o' idiots,' he said contemptuously. "Less I do everythin' myself there's nothin' but mistakes. What lunatic wiped Bud out? No, don't tell me--I could see yu was just agoin' to.' He got up and walked to where his horse was tied. `Tell the others whan I told yu, an' for all our sakes, keep that gap in your face closed,' were his final words as he mounted and rode back to the trail. His companion watched him vanish with a savage scowl.
`For less than half o' nothin' I'd just naturally blow yu apart, yu old lizard,' he growled. `Yu come mighty near bein' buzzard meat once or twice.'
Green remained in his hiding-place until Snub had followed the gambler out of the draw, chewing over what he had heard. That the rustling was the work of white men was now beyond doubt, and at least some of the Double X gang were involved in it. He had nearly learned the name of the slayer of Bud, but the gambler had been too quick. The name that had escaped had been Spider. Green recalled Bent's quotation in the bunkhouse when they were joshing him, an
d Durran's enormous appreciation of what was apparently a not very notable witticism. Here was another little problem to solve.
`Things is boilin' up into a pretty mess,' was the cowpuncher's comment as he mounted and rode out of the draw. Reaching the spot where the trail forked, he turned and headed for the Y Z. An hour's ride brought him within a few miles of his destination, but no nearer to a solution of the tangle he was trying to unravel. Presently, at a point where the road wound up over a rocky ridge, his horse slanted its ears and whickered. Looking up, he saw a saddled pony, the reins looped over the horn, contentedly cropping the grass along the trail side. The animal was a pinto, and he recognised it as one frequently ridden by Noreen. Securing the horse, he uttered a loud call, and a faint cry of `Help!' came in response.
Leading the pinto, he forced his way into the undergrowth in the direction he fancied the cry had come from and shouted again. Once more the reply came, but very feebly, and Green hurried. Soon he emerged on a little plateau covered with grass, from the edge of which the ground dropped almost vertically into a gully. At one spot the plateau was broken off sharply, as though a miniature landslide had occurred. Looking down, he saw the girl, clinging desperately to a stunted shrub about thirty feet below him. A narrow ledge gave her a little support, but it was obvious that she was exhausted and could not maintain her position much longer.`Hang on; I'm a-comin',' he shouted.
She had not the strength to reply, but a movement of the head told him that she had heard. Rapidly he uncoiled his rope, and thanking his stars that he was not riding Blue, who was still an uncertain quantity, fastened one end of it to the saddlehorn. The loop he slipped under his armpits, with a grim smile at the thought that this time he was hanging himself over the cliff. At the first pull on the rope the sturdy little cow-pony stiffened and prepared to take the weight; it knew what was wanted and could be trusted to do its part. Choosing a point not directly over the girl, in order to avoid sending any loose debris he might dislodge down upon her, Green gripped the rope and began the descent. As soon as he was low enough, he clawed his way to the little ledge on which she was partly lying. Standing on this precarious footing, he contrived to stoop and lift the almost senseless girl with his right arm.
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