Sudden Goldseeker

For once the rat showed his teeth. "Like the rest of us," he snapped. "He's willin' to tangle up with Green for a thousand."

"A thousand bucks?" the saloon-keeper cried. "Tell him to go to hell."

"No, tell him to send Green there," Lesurge interposed, and turning to Stark, "If he succeeds it will be worth the coin; if he fails--" he shrugged his shoulders--"it will cost you nothing. I feel in my bones that the puncher is going to be--awkward." The other assented, but with an ill grace; he had an insatiable lust for wealth, and all it would bring, and it was upon this passion that Paul was playing.

"Very well," Stark told his go-between, "but you tell this friend o' yores"--there was an insulting emphasis on the three last words--"that we don't want no raw work. It's to be done at Bizet's, an' I ain't needin' to see him before or after, savvy? You'll pay him, keepin' a rake-off for yoreself, I s'pose. That's all." Without a word, Berg shuffled out. Lesurge refilled his own glass, his dark eyes rather contemptuously studying the bloated figure before him.

"The town seems all stirred up over the latest robbery," he remarked. "Something ought to be done."

"Yeah," Stark said irritably. "Have to hang someone, I s'pose."

"Having first caught your hare, of course," Paul reminded. "Someone, I said," Stark replied. "lt don't much matter--Gosh! That's an idea." Lesurge smiled superciliously. "You are not, by any chance, thinking of making Wild Bill the culprit, are you?"

"Why not?" the saloon-keeper demanded.

"My dear fellow, I have no more use than yourself for James Butler Hickok, but even his worst enemy would not believe him capable of putting a knife in a miner's throat to steal his dust. You would be laughed at, my friend, and ridicule kills. We shall find a better way." Stark grunted. He could not fathom this polished, satirical person, who, through his handsome sister, had so quickly gained an ascendancy over him, and who--though apparently deferring to him--always contrived to get his own way.

"Why did you come to Deadwood, Paul?" he asked.

"To mind my own business, Reuben," came the cool retort. "And, incidentally, to double your fortune."

"Up to now I done nothin' but pay out," the other grumbled.

"You can't expect to reap unless you sow," was all the comfort he received. "The harvest will be heavy. Listen. Sooner or later, the Government must recognize the settlement. If it finds Deadwood an organized, well-equipped city, under efficient leadership, it will leave the man who has brought it about in charge, may even give him a governor ship. You have to be that man. Get control of the place, hold all the strings, but to do that you must be firm, implacable, prepared to crush opposition of any kind." Stark's eyes glowed at the alluring prospect, for next to gold, he loved power, and was a bully by nature. But he was not entirely a fool.

"An' where do you come in, Paul?" he inquired.

"You'll need me," was the smiling answer. "And you'll have so much to give away--offices, town-sites, mining rights, plenty of pickings for the friends who have helped you, believe me."

"You shall have whatever you want, Paul, if we can put it over," Stark said--promises were cheap unless one kept them. "We'll make this a place to be proud of." The boast recurred to Lesurge as he made his way home. "And that damned fool swallowed it like his mother's milk," he told the darkness.

For he did not, as yet, at all believe In the flne picture he had painted for Reuben Stark's edification, and had no intention of helping him to make it a reality. Once he had obtained what he wanted, Deadwood might rot for all he cared. He had come there with the primary object of stealing Ducane's mine; the place had revealed other possibilities and he selected Stark. His agile, crooked mind quickly evolved the bait which would enable him to use, and at the same time, fleece the ambitious, grasping saloon-keeper. There would be obstacles, of course, but Stark would remove them at his own expense.

He found Lora waiting up for him.

"When are you going to find the mine and finish with that drunken lunatic and the girl?" she asked. "I'm weary of being cooped up in this damned shack, talking high-toned, and having no amusement." Paul looked at her beautiful, petulant face, and nodded.

"I know it must be slow for you, but it is only for a time," he said. "It isn't just a matter of a mine, which may turn out to be a madman's myth after all. Deadwood is full of mines and Reuben Stark is one of them--perhaps the richest from our point of view. This time it will be a clean-up, and it means a million, so be patient."

"Tell me the old, old story," she hummed, and laughed at the black look he gave her.

"Oh, all right, I'll be good," she promised. "But it's deadly dull playing nurse to that kid. I've seen your cowboy, Green. He's not as handsome as Hickok, but he has a face most women would like to see more than once, and he appears--capable."

"Don't fall in love with him--yet," Lesurge warned. "It might be a waste of time."

"No danger of that," she retorted. "When I make a fool of myself it will be for something more than youth and good looks; I'm tired of living on expectations."

CHAPTER IX

For a week after the interview with Hickok the two friends had kept away from the town. Their little stream and its banks provided them with a moderate but steady addition to their store of gold, and despite Gerry's frequent suggestions that they should search for rlcher ground, Sudden declined to budge.

"'Let well alone' is one damn good motto," he said. "We ain't doin' so bad an' we're handy to home--an' Snowy." This closed the argument, for Gerry still cherished the hope that the old prospector would come or send for them if Miss Ducane were in danger. So they toiled at their task, hating the work but, being cowboys, doing it as well as they could. On this particular evening they felt that some relaxation was due. When they mentioned this to Jacoo, he remarked casually:

"There are some new faces in town. Ever heard of a man named Lefty Logan?" They had not, and said as much. "He's a gunman from California," the old man went on. "Has a trick of starting to go for his right-hand gun and then using the other."

"A fool play to watch hands," Sudden commented. "Fella's eyes are the pointers."

"He's acquainted with Berg," Jacob added. "I saw them a week ago in the Monte, but Logan has spent the last few evenings at the Paris. Possibly he didn't find what he wanted at Stark's."

"Mebbe he'll have better luck to-night," Sudden told him. "C'mon, cowboy, let's go an' hit the high spots."

"What about passin' up Bizet's this evenin'?" Gerry suggested when they reached that establishment. "Plenty other joints."

"Mebbe, but I'm curious to see this Lefty person," Sudden said, and pushed through the door.

At their entry the clamour almost died away; eyes followed them as they stepped to the bar; Logan had been talking. There was menace in the atmosphere and that instinctive intuition which comes to those who tread perilous paths warned the puncher of impending danger.

"My fren's, I am glad to see you," Bizet greeted, but his expression belied the words.

"Damned if yu look it," Sudden smiled. "I'd say a coupla rattlers would be more welcome." The Frenchman shrugged. "It is true--I lie," he admitted.

"What's bitin' yu?" Mason asked. "What we done?"

"Ah, it is not you, my fren's," the little man cried. "I keep de saloon. I must serve anyone. For three, four nights I have a customer I no like. He have de beeg mouth, he brag, he have keel ten men, he make de threat." The door swung back and Bizet spat out an oath. "Sacre, I hope he not come." He slipped away.

With a swaggering air which was in itself offensive, the newcomer sauntered to the bar, called for liquor, and turning, surveyed the company insolently. He was not yet forty, of medium build, and his shabby attire was that of the range. Two heavy guns hung low on his hips, the holsters tied. The pushed-back, battered Stetson revealed a pale, dissipated face, washed-out greenish eyes, and a sneering slit of a mouth.

Standing a few yards from the cowboys, he appeared to take no notice of them, but Sudden knew he was being watched and weighed, that this was the killer from California, and that presently ... Outwardly calm, he was filled with a cold rage against this man who had come to take his life for no reason save the sordid one of gain. He went on talking to Gerry.

"When he makes his play, duck out," he said. "No sense in takin' a pill that ain't meant for yu." The boy nodded miserably; his nerve would have been steadier had the peril been personal. He could not keep his eyes from that sinister figure lounging against the bar. Tense moments ticked by, and then, having apparently come to a decision, Logan straightened up and raised his glass.

"Here's to yaller," he barked. "Yaller liquor, yaller metal, yaller-haired gals, an' to hell with green." The words struck the room to silence; the mutter of voices, chink of coins, click of poker chips and flipping of cards ceased, and the only sound was the scrape of a foot as someone behind the speaker hurriedly changed his position. Breathlessly the onlookers waited for the cowboy's answer to the challenge; it proved a surprise.

"My name is Green," Sudden said quietly. "Yu wouldn't know that, o' course." He was offering a way out and a few of those present smiled contemptuously. But some, studying the set jaw and ice-cold eyes, divined the truth; this man would not slay until he was sure there was no other way. Logan, certain that his opponent was weakening, had no intention of withdrawing; he had a job to do and his evil face lit up as he rasped:

"Shore I knew it, an' I'm sayin' again, to hell with green." His right hand, fingers outspread like talons, dropped down, but at the same time, the left hand flashed the gun on the other side from the holster only to let it clatter on the board floor as, with wide eyes and sagging knees, he pitched forward to sprawl beside it. Through the cloud of acrid smoke Sudden stared at the body for a moment and then replaced his pistol.

The excitement was soon over. Fatal affrays were frequent enough and Deadwood did not allow them to interfere withthe more important business or getting, and getting rid or, gold. The corpse was carried away, the company resumed its various amusements, and the incident became no more than a topic for conversation.

The cowboys left almost at once but it was not until they were nearing their dwelling that either spoke. Then Gerry said:

"Yu ain't much older'n me, Jim; how in hell did yu get to handle a six-gun like that?"

"Shootin' was allus easy to me," Sudden replied, and after a silence, "If he hadn't gambled on that trick ... " He paused again. "I gave him a chance."

"Which was more than he deserved," the boy said. "He got what he asked for." Jacob met them at the door and his face orightened when he saw two figures step out of the gloom.

"I am glad to see you both," he said, and there was the slightest stress of the last word. His mild gaze rested on them. "The danger is past?"

"This particular one won't rise again till Gabriel toots his horn," Sudden replied grimly, and went to their room. The old man looked inquiringly at Mason.

"Logan baited him and pulled his gun; Jim got him before he could fire. I never see anythin' like it. Jim was as unconcerned as the corpse at a buryin'. One shot, plumb through the heart." There was awe in his tone. "No wonder they call him `Sudden'."

"Jim is takin' it pretty hard, dunno why, a skunk like that."

"Save to the utterly depraved, the letting of a human life, however necessary, is not a subject for pride," came the mild reproof. "You boys will need to be on the alert; the people who set this slayer on will try again."

"Yu know who they are?" Gerry asked.

"Not yet, but I shall," was the reply.

And with that Mason had to be content.

* * * It was on the following morning that something for which Gerry had long been hoping, happened--he met Mary Ducane. One swift glance and she looked away. Hat in hand, he stepped directly in her path.

"Yu don't seem pleased to see me, Miss Ducane," he said, and there was determination in his tone.

"It is your own fault if I am not," she replied coldly, for she was conscious that the sight of him stirred her and that she had missed this pleasant-faced boy who had done so much to make the long passage across the plains endurable.

"Mebbe yu'll tell me what crime I've committed?"

"I don't like your friends, Mister Mason."

"I ain't exactly in love with yores, but I'm not holdin' that against yu," he retorted.

"My friends are not cold-blooded killers," she said hotly.

"Is that so? Well, the man yo're miscallin' saved me from bein' shot in the back by one of 'em--fella named Fagan," Gerry said grimly. "Mebbe yu didn't know that?"

"He is not a friend, as you should be aware," she cried. "I heard you had beaten him up. I detest brawlers and--drunkards." Her attitude of contempt roused a devil of despair in him. For weeks he had hungered for the sight of her, and now .. .

"Pore of Snowy," he said, and if he meant to anger her he certainly succeeded.

"I refuse to discuss my uncle with you," she said, and her eyes were stormy.

Mason was reckless. " Saint' Paul hisself don't hate the sight of a bottle, unless mebbe an empty one."

"You are insulting," she retorted scathingly. "Either you have been drinking or your association with men who slay for money has debased you. I wish never to speak to you again."

"Yu think it's so but it ain't," Gerry told her hardily. "One day yo're goin' to like me a whole lot. As for the fella yu've been abusin', he's the straightest man I ever met."

"With a gun?" she asked scornfully.

"In every way," he replied. "He's my partner an' I wouldn't give him up even for yu, an' yo're goin' to be my wife."

"Never," she flamed.

"' For ever' rhymes with that an' shore sounds nicer," he smiled. "I ain't sayin' good-bye--Mary; I'll be seein' yu." Utterly bereft of speech the astounded girl watched him go, and then, with a curious little sound, half laugh, half sob, she turned away. Gerry Mason strode along, oblivious of the busy scene around him. A slightly tanned oval face, from which deep blue eyes regarded him witheringly, was all he saw, and he was filled with wonder at his own temerity.

"I must 'a' been loco," he muttered, but there was no regret. "My, but she looked awful pretty when she r'ared up. I reckon she'll never forgive me--till I make her." His unrepentant grin would have made Miss Ducane "awful pretty" a second time had she seen it.

* * *

"So Berg fell down again?" Lesurge said. "He appears to be somewhat of a bungler."

"Yes, damn it," Stark growled. "I'm through with him." They were alone in the saloon-keeper's sanctum and it was the night after the passing of Lefty Logan. Paul shook his head.

"You can't afford to be," he said. "If he goes over to Bizet and talks ..."

"That rat? He's no proof--" Stark began.

"Rats can bite and you don't need to stir up trouble in a community like this," the other broke in. "All he's done is to make that cursed cowboy a popular figure."

"What you got against him, Paul?"

"Nothing--much, but as I told you, I've a feeling he's going to make things difficult for--us."

"Can't he be bought?"

"He turned down Berg's offer," came the reminder. "I don't think all your money would tempt him, but there may be another way."

"What's that?"

"I'll explain later; leave it to me," Lesurge evaded.

On his way home he turned over the idea which had come to him during the conversation. It would require the aid of Lora, but he could rely on that. He was fortunate to find her alone in the sitting-room.

"You were complaining of being dull and having nothing to do," he began. "Well, I've found a way in which you can amuse yourself and help at the same time." He explained his plan, and as she listened her eyes filled with mischievous mirth.

"What is the great idea? You are not going to slay him at my feet, are you?" she bantered.

"Don't be silly, Lora--there is no question of hurting the fellow," Paul said sharply. "We want him on our side and if you can get him interested in yourself ... "

"I see," she said. "But suppose I'm the one to get--interested?"

"You're not a fool."

"No, but I'm a woman. Well, as you say, it will be amusing. Have you any suggestions?"

"I've thought it out," he replied, and went on to explain.

"Brilliant, Paul," she laughed. "Had you used your undoubted ability in some honest channel--isn't that how the judge generally phrases it?" She saw the gathering frown. "Oh, well, if you're ashamed of being crooked there's still hope for you."

"That tongue of yours will one day make me consider taking a whip to you," he grated.

"Consider it well, Paul," she counselled. "The man who did that to me wouldn't live long enough to be sorry." She left him pacing up and down the room, his usually immobile features contorted with fury. He got control of himself, however, and by the time Snowy--for whom he was waiting--arrived, he was his own calm, urbane self. The prospector was in a gay mood.

"'Lo, Paul, this of town is shorely whoopin' along, ain't she?" he greeted.

"Yes, but it is no place for idle folk to live in."

"Meanin'?"

"That it is time you got busy and found that mine. Has Mary refreshed that shocking memory of yours?" Snowy looked embarrassed. "Damned if I warn't near forgettin' why we come here," he confessed. "She told me enough --I'll reckernize the place when I see it. Want me to start in the mornin'?"

"Hell, no. How far is it?"

"Mebbe twenty mile an' rough travellin'."

"You'll need company, at least one man who's good with his gun. Got any ideas." Snowy was without the confidence of Lesurge and Stark; he had not been informed of Berg's activities. "What about that cowboy fella, Green?" he asked. "You won't find a better gun-swinger barrin' Wild Bill, an' some has their doubts about that." To his surprise the suggestion met with approval. "The very man I had in mind, Phil," Lesurge smiled. "I'll arrange it. Once the mine is located, we can take out a strong party to work it. And, by the way, Reuben Stark is our friend, so I want you to boost him whenever you can. Sabe?" He went without waiting for a reply, and the old man grimaced at his back. "Shore I sabe, Paul, an' I'll boost him--into hell," he muttered. The malevolent expression cleared from his face. "Glad about Green; if he'd sent Fagan I'm afeared there'd have been an accident--to Fagan." * * * The cowboys were at work on their claim when Sudden heard the slither of shod hoofs on gravel and slipped into the undergrowth to find out who was intruding. He arrived just in time to see the visitor, a woman, descend from her saddle and slap the pony smartly on the rump. As the animal clattered away, she dropped to the ground and uttered a cry of "Help!" Somewhat mystified by these proceedings, Sudden waited a few moments and then hurried from his hiding-place. The face which looked appealingly up to his was beautiful, and to his surprise, was that of Lora Lesurge.

"Oh, I'm so glad someone heard me," she cried. "My pony slipped and threw me. I ride quite well, but I suppose I wasn't noticing. I've damaged an ankle."

"Can yu stand up?" the puncher asked.

From beneath the short, divided riding-skirt, she thrust out a slim, silk-clad leg and wriggled the dainty foot.

"Ouch!" she gasped. Then the red lips parted, showing the perfect white teeth as she tried to smile. "It hurts like--the devil. I hope nothing is broken." It was an invitation, but Sudden did not accept. "I guess yu couldn't 'a' moved it," he said. "I'll go chase yore broncs' "And leave me alone?" she queried in dismay.

"I'll call my partner to keep cases on yu," he smiled.

A tiny frown indicated that the suggestion did not please her. "The animal is half-way to Deadwood by now, and while you are catching it, I am in pain," she pouted.

Sudden looked contrite. "Which I'm shorely a bonehead not to remember that," he said. "Yu can have my hoss."

"That great black?" she cried. "I never could stay on him with a crippled foot."

"He'll be all right with me along," Sudden assured her.

The smile of thanks he received was sweet, but there was a tinge of contempt in it; how easily a pretty woman could lead a man! But her strategy was not so successful as she had assumed. When the puncher returned he was leading two horses, his own, and the piebald mustang which Gerry called "Joseph" because its coat was of many colours. Sudden solved the problem of mounting by lifting her without effort into the saddle. For a brief instant one soft arm encircled his neck, her face temptingly close to his, and then she was looking down at him from the back of the big horse.

"You must be frightfully strong," she said, a little breathlessly.

"Shucks," he smiled. "I s'pose ropin' long-horns mebbe toughens a fella's muscles some." He spoke one sharp word to Nigger. whose ears had gone back at the strange burden.

"It looks a long way to fall," she said, her eyes on the smaller animal.

Sudden swung into the piebald's saddle and for a while they paced slowly along in silence, the woman covertly studying a companion about whom she was getting new ideas. Somehow the task Paul had set her did not seem quite so "amusing." He had not told her why he wanted this man, but she divined it was for no good. Also, it was not going to be so easy as she had anticipated; this product of the plains appeared to possess a severely practical mind; so far, she had not received even one glance of approbation.

Sudden was similiarly occupied. It seemed incredible that such a woman could have slain a man because he insulted her, and yet it was true--or all the town lied. He felt the allure of her despite the fact that he knew she was playing a part. Why had she come to seek him, and why the pretended injury?--for he was fully aware that both her shapely ankles were well able fo support her equally shapely body. Why did she desire his company to the settlement? What had her brother to do with it? His fruitless search for answers to these questions was interrupted by the lady;

"So you got tired of punching cows?"

"I allus was a restless fella--never could stay put nohow," he replied.

She made one or two tentative efforts to probe into his past, but the puncher was on his guard and she learned nothing. As they rode through the town more than one pair of envious eyes followed them; Lora Lesurge had plenty of admirers. Paul, from the shelter of the Monte, saw them pass.

"Good, she's hooked him," he muttered.

When they reached the house, Sudden lifted her down and carried her in. He declined to stay, though she urged that her brother would wish to thank him.

"It don't need speakin' of," he told her. Mary Ducane had come in and was regarding him with something very like repulsion. "Gerry is up in the gulch there all alone."

"You are anxious about your friend?" Lora asked.

The cowboy detected the sneer. "I don't have many, so I gotta take care of 'em," he smiled. "Gerry's a pretty ornery cuss, but I'd hate to find some wandering war-whoop had took a fancy to his curly locks." He noted the younger girl's instant look of alarm and smothered a grin as he took his leave.

"It doesn't seem to trouble him," Mary remarked, and seeing she was not understood, "I mean, killing that man." This, though the girl did not know it, was a home-thrust for her companion.

"Why should it?" Lora retorted. "The fellow purposely picked a quarrel as an excuse for shooting him. Did you expect Green to let him do it?"

"I suppose not, but it is--terrible," was the lame reply. Lora shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing of the kind," she said callously. "This is a lawless land and bloodthirsty brutes like Logan--he had already murdered ten men--must be dealt with. All this claptrap about the sacredness of human life makes me tired; when men behave like mad dogs they must be treated as such." Mary, Western-bred, knew that, to a large extent, she was right, but it was somewhat of a shock to hear a young and lovely woman express such a drastic doctrine.

* * * * When Sudden returned to the claim he found a very impatient partner awaiting him.

"Yu took yore time," was the greeting he received.

"Did yu expect a lady with a sprained ankle to gallop?" was the sarcastic retort.

"S'pose not. How d'yu get her on the hoss, Jim?"

"Made him lie down," Sudden grinned. "To tell yu the truth "

"Don't strain yoreself," the other begged.

"I don't savvy the game," Sudden continued. "She stampeded her pony and her ankle ain't damaged none whatever."

"She's fell in love with yu, Jim, an' I'll bet brother Paul don't know neither."

"Talk sense--the whole town saw us ride in."

"That's so. Shore looks as if he's in on it. Was Miss Ducane pleased to see yu?"

"I've had warmer welcomes," was the sardonic admission. Gerry laughed delightedly. "She's one fine girl," he exulted. "I'm goin' to marry her." Sudden stared at him in undisguised amazement. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, and heedless of the other's cordial agreement, continued, "Have yu informed the lady or is it to be a surprise?"

"I done told her--right away."

"An' yu still live?" Gerry grinned widely. "I lit out before the storm broke," he confessed.

"No wonder she treated me like I was an infectious disease," was Sudden's comment.

Chapter X

It was the second evening after Lora's adventure that Sudden encountered her brother. He and Gerry were in the Paris when Paul came up to them.

"Green, I want to thank you for coming to my sister's aid," he said. "It might have proved serious."

"Nothin' to that," the puncher replied. "But she didn't oughta been there."

"So I told her, but Lora is of a daring disposition," Paul answered. "It takes a lot to scare her."

"I hope her foot is mendin'," Sudden said politely.

"Better call and ask--women expect that sort of attention, you know," Lesurge smiled.

Sudden looked at his companion, of whom no notice had been taken. "That's a bet we overlooked, Gerry. We'll pay that visit to-morrow." Paul's face darkened--he was getting more than he bargained for, but his tone showed no trace of annoyance:

"Lora will be pleased to see you, Green, and remember, if I can do anything ... We Waysiders ought to hang together." The cowboy's eyes twinkled. "Well, Mister Lesurge," he drawled, "if it comes to hangin' I dunno that company'd be any comfort to me." Lesurge studied him sharply for a moment, then decided it was a joke, and laughed as he went.

They paid the promised visit in the morning but Gerry's courage failed him at the last moment and he elected to wait outside, in the hope--as he was careful to explain--that Mary would come out and he would have her to himself; the excuse elicited a sardonic "Oh, yeah" from his companion. He was doomed to be disappointed, for he saw no sign of the lady.

Lora, reclining gracefully on a couch, received the visitor with a smile of reproof. Her foot was better, she told him; in fact, had he delayed his inquiry a little, it would have been quite well.

"Just a trifling strain, after all," she said. "I'm afraid I made too much of it. I hope you found your friend still in possession of his hair?" Sudden assured her on that point and sat fidgeting with his hat, wishing himself anywhere else. The fine furniture, rugs, pictures, and the deft touches which betrayed the hand of a woman, only made him uncomfortable; he was supremely conscious of his rough attire.

"There are cigarettes on the table and I will join you," she said. "One of my many vices." He held a light for her and helped himself to one of the "tailor-made" smokes. He had met other women who used tobacco but they had been very different from this dazzling but essentially feminine creature. He fought against the spell she was weaving, reminded himself that she had deceived him, but he was young and youth will forgive much to a pretty woman. And she was more than that, for she had the dark, exotic beauty which goes to men's heads like strong wine. In her dainty draperies, curled up among the cushions, and with her soft, purring voice, there was something feline about her.

"I am sick to death of this dreadful town, but my brother has big interests, so I must stay," she told him. "He thinks the possibilities are unlimited." Sudden hid his smile; they certainly Were for an unscrupulous person. "I'd say he's right, ma'am," he replied.

"Of course, he'll have to get good men to help him," she went on. "Paul is wonderful, but ... " She gestured with a slim, white hand.

The cowboy began to see light. Having failed to remove him, was he now to be used? That was a game two could play at. He put on a particularly wooden expression.

"One fella can't do it all," he agreed.

"My brother is generous to those who serve him," she murmured softly. "I too like to more than pay a debt." The warmth in tone and look promised much, but the visitor, convinced that he had solved the problem, was himself again, cold, insensible to the glamour of her beauty. But since he must not let her see this, stupidity was the safest card to play.

"Good work shorely deserves good pay," he observed fatuously.

To his surprise, she dropped the subject and after one or two commonplaces, held out her hand.

"We must meet again," she said. "You interest me." When he had gone, she rose and crossed to a mirror. "What is the matter with me?" she murmured. "Is he really dumb, or ... ?" Apparently satisfied with the reflection in the glass she curtseyed to it mockingly. "We shall see, Mister Sudden; you may be a wonder with a six-shooter but Cupid can beat you with his bow and arrow--damn you." Had the cowboy seen her at that moment, the God of Love's shaft would have sadly missed its aim. All her beauty could not make a woman with such an expression desirable.

But Sudden was riding up the street, repeating for the third time that he had not seen Miss Ducane. He gave his explanation of Lora's interest and Gerry's eyes grew round.

"They wanta rope yu into their plans?" he said. "But why?"

"Mebbe they need a fast gun-slinger," Sudden said bitterly. "I'm knowed too, an' if anythin' goes wrong with those same plans, I'll be left holdin' the bag."

"What yu mean to do, Jim?"

"I'm takin' a hand," came the grim reply.

"We are," the other corrected.

Sudden expressed a doubt. "Lesurge don't like you. Yo're young, yu got a face a girl might get used to--in time, an' he has his own ideas, I figure, about Miss Ducane's future." Gerry's comment, a poor tribute to his upbringing, set out clearly and vividly, his ideas regarding the future of Paul Lesu rge.

"Cussin' never cured anythin'," Sudden said philosophically. "We gotta wait for the next move in the game." They were not kept long in suspense; it had already been made. As they crossed the little stream which descended from their claim, Sudden noticed that the water was muddy.

"Somebody's workin' near us," he remarked.

Breasting the slope, they soon reached the spot. Three men were busily washing sand from the bed of the rivulet. They ceased as the riders emerged from the trees, their hands going to their guns, only to fall away again when Sudden slid from- his saddle and stepped towards them. Blue-shirted miners, neither young nor old, of the type which could be seen by the hundred in the vicinity at any hour of the day or night, with rugged, hard, but not unpleasant faces.

"What's the bright notion, jumpin' our claim thisaway?" the puncher asked.

The oldest of the three, who sported a grey beard, replied:

"We didn't know it was your'n." His tone was almost apologetic, and Sudden knew that, for once, his evil reputation was helping him. "You ain't staked no claim, nor recorded her, an' she's anybody's ground." The cowboys grinned wryly at one another; this was a detail they had overlooked.

"We figured on attendin' to that later, if it was worth while," Sudden explained. "What made yu pick on this place?"

"Fella told us 'bout it--said a couple o' chaps was doin' well but hadn't recorded," the man replied. "You see, we bin havin' a middlin' poor time, couldn't make a strike nohow, an' with grub the price it is ..." He shrugged expressively.

"Was the fellow named Berg?"

"Why I b'lieve I did hear him called that--a tricky-lookin' triflin' bit of a man."

"Yu said it," the puncher agreed. "Well, boys, yu win. Me an' Gerry has slipped up an' must take our medicine. Good luck to yu." He turned towards his horse.

The two miners who had been silent looked at the spokesman and shook their heads.

"Hold on thar, we ain't agreein' to that," Grey-beard said. "Yo're treatin' us fair, mister, an' we aim to do the same. We've staked three claims an' you can choose two of 'em--I'm tellin' you the ones the stream runs through is the likeliest. We'll mark out another couple an' work alongside, if yo're willin'."

"That's a white man's offer, but I got a better idea," Sudden replied. "We'll work the five claims an' split the proceeds equally. What yu say?" Since the cowboy's ground would probably be the richest, this proposal was to the advantage of the intruders; they did not hesitate.

"That's a bet," their leader said, "but I reckon you two should take a bigger share." The puncher would not have it. "We're kind o' new to this game," he pointed out. "We'll gain by throwin' in with yu, Mister .. ?" 'I'm Jessie Rogers, this is Ben Humit. an' that ornery fella is Tom Bowman; we ain't much to look at but you'll find we're on the level," Grey-beard said. "We was in the Paris when you gave Logan what he shorely asked for." He looked round. "This end o' the gulch ain't bin prospected much--chaps are scared o' gettin' far from town--but they'll come, an' it'll be all to the good if there's a party of us. What you goin' to do to Berg?"

"Box his ears," was the smiling answer. "He's on'y bein' used, Rogers, by bigger men."

"Well, any time you want help, there's three of us," the other replied slowly.

"I'm rememberin' that," Sudden said warmly.

By virtue of both age and experience, Rogers took charge of the operations. His partners were deputed to stake the a ditional claims while the other three used shovel and pan. Sudden pointed out the natural rock riffle and Rogers laughed.

"We tried that first," he said. "No wonder she warn't so rich as we expected. Hey, that ain't no way to wash dirt--you'll lose half the dust. Lemme show you." The puncher watched his skilful handling of the pan with a rueful countenance, seeing which, Rogers smiled. "Don't you care, son," he consoled. "Each to his job, they say. I'm bettin' you could throw an' tie twenty cows afore I got the rope on one." Sudden laughed and went to help Gerry with the digging.

"Berg has done us a good turn unmeanin'," he remarked. "I'm wonderin' if it was just spite, or was he obeyin' orders?" When just before dark, they reached home, another surprise awaited them. From a sawn-off tree-stump which served as a seat outside the door, Snowy rose.

"'Lo boys," he cried. "There's nobody to home so I just hung aroun'." They took him inside and produced a bottle and glasses, but he shook his head.

"Ain't drinkin' right now," he excused. "Wanted to see you particular, Jim." His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I'm agoin' to re-locate the mine. It ain't fur, mebbe I won't be gone more'n a day or so, 'less I've disremembered the landmarks, but it's wild country. Paul reckons I oughta have comp'ny--a fella who's handy with weapons."

"So he sent yu to me?"

"Well, he mentioned yore name an' I was pleased to hear it. I'd like for yu to come, Jim. It's been in my mind a long whiles --that's why I asked you boys to stay put. O' course, you'll be in on it," he added hastily. "How's things?"

"Our claim was jumped this mornin'," Sudden told him, "but we ain't within sight o' sellin' our saddles yet." Thus assured that their financial condition was not desperate, Snowy asked about the claim-jumping; it was evident he knew nothing of it.

"Mean trick," he commented, "but, o' course, if you hadn't made yore title good ... Hell, what's it matter? I'm offerin' you a bigger chance. What do you say?"

"I'm with yu," the puncher said, after a moment's consideration.

The old man was clearly pleased. "I'll be along 'bout daybreak, have to slide out quiet-like, I'm bein' watched," he saidimportantly. "Mind, not a word to anybody. Well, I'll get agoin'."

"Won't yu wait till Jacob shows up?" Sudden asked. "He'd admire to meet yu; he's a Forty-niner too." Snowy's eyes showed a flicker of alarm. "Got no time now --lot to do," he muttered, and scurried out with a bare word of farewell.

"Odd number that--he seemed kinda scared," Gerry remarked. "Mebbe he never was in California."

"An' mebbe he was," Sudden said sardonically.

"Don't like yu goin' alone, Jim; it would be easy to wipe out the pair o' yu."

"Snowy is safe till Lesurge knows where the mine is."

"Shore, but why send you?"

"That's what I'm hopin' to find out."

"It's a risk, Jim."

"Shucks, the fella who allus plays it safe gets no fun outa life," Sudden said lightly. "Yu'll have to explain to Rogers, an' if yu do three times as much work it'll even my bein' away."

"Half my usual day extra'll be enough for that," Gerry retaliated. "If I do more, they'll be damn sorry to see yu back. Don't worry, fella; we won't miss yu, 'cept at meal-times."

Chapter XI

A faint, cold light above the Eastern horizon was announcing the advent of another day when the expedition set out. Snowy was draped over the saddle of an aged, stone-coloured mare to whom the loss of one ear gave a dilapidated but rather rakish appearance. Sudden eyed the beast with saturnine disfavour.

"She looks a proper Jezebel," the puncher grinned.

Snowy had climbed down in order to display his acquisition to better advantage.

"Funny, that's the very name the fella gave her," he said. "I'm goin' to make it 'Jessie,' for short; he told me she had a nice disposition. Barrin' that chawed-off ear " He did not finish; a lashing left hoof, which would inevitably have removed Snowy's head had he been a foot higher, gave him something else to think about. "Just playful, that's what," he added, from a safe distance.

"Yeah, but if that lick had landed yu'd 'a' been pretty near back in Wayside by now," the cowboy said dryly. He cut a stout stick from a neighboring bush. "Thisyer is a magic wand; as long as yu carry it, she won't feel frolicsome." He proved a true prophet; after one guileful look at the weapon, Jezebel quietly submitted to being mounted.

The prospector led the way westward along the gulch.

Snowy appeared to know his way and rode stolidly on, thumping the ribs of his mount with unspurred heels. Presently they emerged, as from a tunnel, into daylight, and began to climb a rock-strewn slope which slanted upwards to the bare mountains ahead.

Somehow the miner seemed to have lost much of his madness; the vacant, stupid expression so frequently on his face was absent.

Midday brought the end of the arduous ascent and they found themselves among the black crags, great, grim needles of stone without vegetation of any kind to clothe their precipitous sides. The heat was almost intolerable. Lizards sunning themselves on the boulders and a big rattlesnake were the only signs of life save a solitary eagle, sailing serenely in the sky.

"Yo're the lucky guy," Sudden mused aloud. "Wings is what a fella needs in these parts."

"He, he," Snowy cackled. "Fancy a cowboy wantin' wings; wish for the moon, boy--you got as good a chance."

"Dessay yo're right," Sudden laughed. "Well, they must be awkward things to get a coat over, anyway." The descent from the top of the ridge was shorter but more steep, and frequent precipices into which a slip would hurl the traveller made it dangerous in the extreme. Most of it had to be negotiated afoot, and both men breathed a sigh of relief when they reached level ground. This was a small desert of sand and sagebrush, and having crossed that, they encountered a second range of hills, more imposing and wilder than the first. Sudden surveyed them with an expression of whim sical despair.

"If yu'd told me I'd 'a' rode a goat," he said.

"We ain't gotta climb this one," Snowy replied. "We mosey along a piece through the foothills; it ain't fur now." Despite the air of confidence he affected, Sudden got the impression that his guide was not too sure; several times during the day he had lagged behind, and the puncher had seen him furtively studying a piece of paper, peering about as though in search of landmarks.

Dusk was approaching when Snowy pulled up. "Pretty close now," he said, "but I reckon we'd better camp an' wait for daylight. Oughta be a sort o' cave where we can build a fire what won't be seen." He pushed on through the brush and then grinned at his companion as a shallow hole in the hill-side came in view.

"Thar she is, shore as cats has kittens," he cried triumphantly. "Don't seem as no varmints has took up residence neither." Sudden dismounted. "Some `varmint' has built a fire," he pointed out.

Snowy laughed slyly. "He's talkin' to you. Leavin' them ashes has lost me a lot o' sleep--oughta buried 'em." The cowboy asked no questions--he believed in "letting the other man talk." They made a small fire--for it would be cold later on--and ate some of the food they had brought. Then the prospector packed and lit a battered pipe, leant back with a sigh of content, and watched the other's deft fingers roll a cigarette.

"I ain't been treatin' yu right," the puncher said presently. "I oughta be callin' yu `Ducane'. "

"Forget it," was the reply. "I've been `Snowy' so long that half the time I don't reckernize my own name. So yo're athrowin' in with Lesurge, eh, Jim?"

"Looks thataway, don't it?"

"Yeah, but things ain't allus what they look like, an' if I warn't scared you'd blow me to hellangone I'd call you a liar."

"Now's yore time," Sudden smiled. "1 ain't liable to ruo yu out till yu've showed me the mine."

"Who said I was goin' to?"

"Partner, yu can't lose me--I'm aimin' to be yore shadow."

"I can take you right over the mine an' you wouldn't know it, an' point out some place where it ain't," Snowy retorted.

The cowboy laughed again. "Yo're a cunnin' of fox," he admitted. "But if yu think I ain't in with Lesurge, why fetch me here?"

"Paul's suggestion, dunno the reason; must be somethin' behind it, for he don't like you."

"That's mighty sad hearin'," Sudden answered gravely, but his eyes were mirthful. "I've had a dim suspicion of it my own self; I'll have to earn his better opinion."

"Shore," Snowy said, and the one word spoke volumes. "What I'm wonderin' is why yu hate Lesurge?" Sudden said quietly.

If the puncher had pulled a gun on him the prospector could not have been more amazed.

"Who told--?" he began and stopped. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he shrugged and said, "I dunno how you got wise, Jim--I thought I'd diddled 'em all, includin' Paul. Damn him, he's playin' me for a sucker an' thinks he can rob me--Mary. Ts young Mason white?"

"He's my friend, Snowy."

"That's good enough for me. We'll beat that devil, clever as he is, just the three of us. I'm agoin' to turn in, boy; gotta be astir early." For a while after the old man had rolled himself in his blanket, the cowboy sat smoking and staring into the fire, thinking over what had happened. His chance shot had hit the mark, plumb centre, and yet he could not say why he had made it. Snowy's attitude was easily explained: he suspected Lesurge meant to steal his mine, a deadly offence in the eyes of one to whom gold was a god. Sudden, of the same opinion, was glad to discover that the prospector was not the simple dupe he had appeared to be.

When they set out in the morning, the mare was disposed to be fractious, but the magic wand brought obedience. Snowy had found occasion to make vigorous use of it the previous day and, tough as the animal's hide was, her ribs were still sore.

"Learnin' sense, huh?" her master said, as he hauled himself into the saddle and pulled her remaining ear. The ugly hammer-head came round, upper lip curled, showing the big yellow teeth. "Like to chaw my leg, eh, you she-devil? Take that, an' git agoin'." They pushed on, thrusting through the thick shrubby undergrowth of the foothills, twisting and turning to avoid chunks of rock and large trees, and gradually mounting. Presently they were face to face with a wall of bare cliff, which, rising sheer from among the foliage, appeared an insuperable barrier. The mare stopped and turned a jeering eye upon her master; she evidently concluded he had lost his way. Snowy whanged her on the rump.

"G'wan, you hell-cat," he barked.

"Yu expectin' her to grow wings?" Sudden inquired.

Snowy grinned gleefully. "Got you guessin', has it?" he said. "Well, watch." He urged his horse forward, rode straight into a bush at the base of the cliff, and vanished. The cowboy followed, and the mystery was one no longer; behind the bush was an overlapping buttress of rock which concealed a narrow opening, The place to which it led was anything but lovely. A small cuplike depression hollowed out of the mountain-side, enclosed by almost vertical walls of stone, bare, save for ragged patches of moss, grass and cactus on the infrequent ledges. At the end opposite the entrance, a steep slope joined the wall of the hollow and the flattish top of a small mountain, and there was perched an enormous, cone-shaped boulder, leaning forward and seeming to overshadow the cup below. Snowy followed his companion's gaze.

"That's the Rocking Stone, that is--I named the mine after t her," he explained. "One o' Dame Nature's little jokes; a big wind'll make her bend over, but she rights herself--all the weight at the foot, I reckon, an' balanced just so. Gave me the creeps at first, but there ain't no danger." The sly look was in his eyes again. "Purty place, eh?"

"I've been in worse," was the answer.

"You ain't noticed the best of it," the old man said.

He pointed to a little waterfall, toppling over a ledge twenty feet up, to drop, glinting in the sunlight like a stream of jewels, into a shallow pool, thence along a narrow, stone-rimmed gully to vanish under the rock wall.

"Every convenience, you see, he said, and then, "Wonderin' where the gold is, son? Well, yo're standln' on it. Here's how I figure it out. Time was when this cup was a pool an' mebbe it's thousands o' years before the water bores an outlet big enough to empty her. All that while the stream's a-tricklin' in carryin' gold-dust, which, bein' heavy, remains when the water goes out. Under this rotted granite, is a layer o' sand an' gravel --the old bed o' the pool--an' it's the richest pay-dirt I ever saw." The puncher cast a speculative look at the mountain towering above them. "An' the gold comes from up there?" he questioned.

"Shorely," Snowy told him, and reading the other's thought, "The stream comes out's a crack in the rock 'bout a hundred yards up; Gawd on'y knows where she starts, but somewhere she runs through a deposit o' gold." He shook his head. "You'd have to take the blame' mountain to pieces to find it. Wanted for you to see this place, Jim. If anythin' happens to me, Mary'll need a friend."

"She can depend on two," the puncher said quietly. "Good," Snowy rejoined. "We'll git back now; I'll show you the other mine on the way home." Sudden's eyebrows rose.

"You didn't reckon I'd be dump enough to tell Paul about this one, did you?"

"I was kind o' wonderin'; it would be a risk."

"Risk?" Snowy repeated scornfully. "I'm believin' you. If that soulless devil knowed o' this, me an' Mary wouldn't last a week. To him, there's on'y one person in the world that matters--Paul Lesurge." Little as he liked the man, Sudden regarded this as an exaggeration; on the subject of his gold-mine the old fellow was undoubtedly a little mad, and liable to suspect everyone of designs on it. Yet he was trusting the puncher, of whom he knew little. Sudden smiled and sarcastically told himself that was the reason.

On the back trail, Snowy was more talkative--apparently the knowledge that his secret was safe had lifted a load from his mind. He chirped and chattered, mainly on his favourite topic--California.

Sudden noticed they were not returning by the way they had come. Snowy smiled when he mentioned it.

"This is a short cut--less'n half the distance," he confessed. "We could 'a' done it in a day, but we might 'a' been trailed." They had covered only a few miles when the prospector halted in a sandy, shallow ravine through which a small stream moved sluggishly. The ruins of a log shack and the disturbance of the ground in a number of places proclaimed human habitation at some time. The cowboy understood.

"This is the other one?" he guessed. "Is there gold here?"

"Enough to keep a fella hopin'," was the reply. "You see, this creek comes from the Rocking Stone, an' when the snow melts on the peaks she's strong enough to carry the dust even this far."

"But if somebody works up-stream . ?"

"She tunnels a bit away from the cliff-wall," Snowy said confidently. "I on'y struck her by accident--you gotta find the way in." As the old man had promised, the journey back was shorter and a little less difficult, and, by late afternoon, they reached Deadwood. They were approaching the long street between the timber-stripped sides of the gulch when a crowd of shouting, gesticulating men came marching towards them. In front strode a burly, coarse-faced miner carrying a coiled rope, and immediately behind him, firmly gripped by two others and minus his gun, stepped Gerry. The boy's face was pale, and no sound came from his close-clamped lips. At the sight of him, Sudden pulled his horse across the path of the mob anddropped the reins over the saddle-horn, leaving both hands free.

"What's goin' on?" he demanded.

"Suthin' you can't stop," the man with the rope retorted, though he looked a trifle uneasy. "We're aimin' to string this fella up soon's we find a tall enough tree."

"An' that goes," yelled a score of the others.

Sudden surveyed the half-circle of hard-featured, savage faces; dangerous men these, all armed, and liable to be reckless of consequences when inflamed by passion. Resting his hands on the pommel of his saddle, he said quietly:

"What's he done?"

"Murdered a man an' stole his dust," came the answer. "That's a lie, Jim; I never was near the place," Gerry called out, trying to step forward.

"Close yore yap, you," one of the men holding him exclaimed, and both of them slung him roughly back.

The puncher's cold eyes rested on them. "Turn that man loose," he ordered. "He can't get away." Though his voice was low there was menace in it. The men shuffled uneasily for a moment and then obeyed; the crowd murmured. Sudden raised a hand.

"Mason is my partner," he said. "If he has done what yu say, yo're welcome to hang him, but yu gotta prove it first." The leader told the story; a solitary digger named Wilson had been stabbed on his claim and his money-belt was missing; the prisoner was seen near the spot soon after the crime must have been committed.

"Yu didn't find the belt on him?" Sudden asked, and there was a burst of jeering laughter. "Well, o' course, he might 'a' cached it. Where's the fella who saw him?" From the back ranks a reluctant figure was pushed forward and Sudden's eyes narrowed as he saw that it was Rodd. The man was obviously uncomfortable but with the courage born of being one of many, he faced the puncher with a malevolent sneer. Sudden gave no sign of recognition.

"Shore it was Mason you saw?" he asked.

"Sartain," was the reply, "an' he was wearin' chaps--they ain't so common in these 'arts."

"I wear 'em," the puncher pointed out.

"Then it might 'a' bin yu," Rodd said impudently, and raised a laugh.

"So yu didn't see his face--the chaps are all yu have to go on?" Sudden flashed, and the man's triumphant leer faded as he realized that he had made a slip.

"It was him, anyway," he growled. "I'd swear to lt."

"Conclusive, o' course," Sudden sneered. "Well, that clears me. Where were yu, Gerry, at the time?"

"Work in' on the claim, which ain't anywhere near Wilson's," the prisoner replied. "These hombres grabbed me soon as I hit town, an' wouldn't let me say a thing." The gathering was growing and among the new-comers Sudden noticed Berg, who, as Gerry finished speaking, thrust himself into the discussion.

"You ain't got no claim," he asserted, "an' if you had, we've on'y yore word you were on it."

"I've got a claim, an' three men were with me," Gerry snapped.

"Who are they?" demanded the leader, impatiently swinging his rope.

"Jesse Rogers, Bowman and Humit." Some among the bloodthirsty throng looked doubtful--they knew these names. Others, more callous, eager only to see a man die, yelled in derision.

"He's playin' for time; he don't know them fellas. Swing the --, anyway; there's bin too many o' these killin's." With threatening curses, the ruffianly element in the crowd surged forward, only to sway back before the muzzles of the puncher's pistols. The jutting jaw and the bleak unwavering eyes told them that the man on the black horse was not bluffing.

"Twelve of yu get--hurt, first," he warned, and those who had witnessed the encounter with Lefty Logan did not doubt the statement.

"I raise the ante--make it twenty-four, Green," a quiet voice added, and though he dared not take his eyes from the mob, the puncher knew that Wild Bill was standing beside his horse. The gunman waited for a few tense moments, and then said, "I guess we'll hear what those three men have to say."

"Here they come--the ol' Jew-fella is a-fetchin' 'em," someone shouted.

It was true. A moment later, Jacob, and the men he had gone in search of, hurried up. Sudden told the rope-bearer to question them. Their testimony was convincing--Gerry had been in their company all day, not leaving them until after the murder was discovered. A few of the crowd, disappointed of their ghoulish excitement, went away murmuring; others remained to congratulate the man they had come to hang.

"Shore was lucky yore friend showin' up, son," one grinned. "We come mighty near puttin' one over on you."

"You did oughta get rid o' them leather pants," another chimed in. "One o' these days you'll trip over em an' break yor neck." Bill Hickok put forward a different aspect of the affair.

"These outrages are becomin' frequent an' they have a family resemblance which suggests the same hand," he remarked. "Find out who planned this frame-up an' yu will be near to discoverin' the killer."

"Rodd is in with Berg," Sudden said.

"Berg is on'y a tool--yu'll have to look higher," Hickok replied. "Watch yore step an'--keep clear o' the women."

"Now what the devil did he mean by that?" Sudden pondered, when the gunman had gone.

"I'd say he meant Miss Lesurge, an' if yo're wise, yu'll take his tip," Gerry said.

"I reckon I will," his friend agreed.

Chapter XII

At the Lesurge residence, that same evening, Paul, his sister, and Mary Ducane gathered to hear the result of the prospector's expedition into the wild.

* "So you found the place?" Lesurge asked. "There's no doubt?"

"Shore I found it," Snowy replied. "My ol' hut was still a-standin' an' I'll bet a stack nobody's put a foot in that gully since I was thar."

"That's fine," Paul responded. "In a little while we'll take a gang out, but there are things to see to here first. How did you get along with Green?"

"He's all right," was the casual reply. "Useful fella, but he don't savvy nothin' 'bout gold-minin'."

"Excellent, but he knows the location? Of course, it couldn't be avoided, but there's a remedy for that." H>> smiled at Lora, but for once she did not appear to find any humour in the remark. Snowy's face remained expressionless; he could have made a good guess at the nature of the "remedy."

"You think we can depend on him?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to take in his pardner."

"Ah, Mason. Wasn't he in trouble of some kind today?" Snowy laughed wheezily. "He was within two shakes o' bein' strung up, if you call that `trouble.' It was wings an' a harp for him if Jim an' me hadn't arrove." He gave the details, and his keen little eyes noted the colour creeping back into Mary's cheeks as she listened. Paul waved a nonchalant hand.

"Too bad," he said, "but these fellows work hard for their wealth, and to lose that and life as well ... You can't wonder they are vindictive."

"But to hang an innocent man," Mary shuddered.

"Well it didn't happen," Paul smiled. "My old schoolmaster, when he punished me by mistake, used to justify it by saying that the thrashing was probably due for something he hadn't discovered."

"Mister Mason would not murder," the girl insisted.

"Gold alone makes existence possible in this wild corner of the world," he replied. "A man must get it--somehow, or go under. How long does it take to reach this mine of yours, Phil?"

"Less'n a day, the way we come back," the old man told him. "Got lost a bit goin'--a-purpose."

"When we go we might take the ladies--make a change for them. What do you think?"

"It's fearsome country an' there's a chance o' them red devils," Snowy said dubiously. "They'd have to live rough."

"We shall be a strong party," Paul argued.

"You may count on us," Lora broke in. "Thank you, Paul."

"lt won't be yet," Lesurge laughed. "You'll have time to exercise the privilege of your sex and alter your mind."

"Don't hope for it," she cried gaily. "Nothing could keep me from such an experience. Think of it, Mary; riding, hunting and searching for gold."

"Your occupation will be mainly preparing meals," Paul bantered.

"Then I'm sorry for you," she retorted. "When I die someone will be the worst cook in the world." Later, in the seclusion of her room, Mary Ducane tried--not for the first time--to analyse her feelings for Paul Lesurge. Handsome, well-dressed, and apparently cultured, he stood out among the uncouth, coarsely-garbed men who formed the major portion of Deadwood's population--men who spent their days burrowing into the hill-sides and their nights drinking and gaming away their gains. Though there were many sober, industrious citizens, she had not met them, which heightened Paul's pre-eminence in her mind. When he chose,he could be charming, and, so far, she had not seen him otherwise. It was inevitable that she should be attracted, yet she had doubts. She remembered, rather angrily, that Gerry Mason's peril had interfered with the beatlng of her heart.

"After all, he was good to me on that horrible journey," she told herself, well aware that did not explain it.

Lora, she had to confess, presented a conundrum to which she could find no answer. Though she had been kind, Mary was always conscious of a barrier she could not penetrate. Her uncle she liked, despite his eccentricity, which she attributed to the hard life he had led.

* * * Gerry, having decided that he had enjoyed all the excitement he needed for one day, elected to spend the evening at home, Jacob having promised to instruct him in the game of chess. Sudden, who watched the opening game, grinned widely when, after a few moves, the old man called "Check," and sat back with a quiet smile. Gerry studied the board with ludicrous surprise.

"My King 'pears to be throwed an' hawg-tied; yore Queen has him cornered an' if he takes her, that Bishop guy gets him at long range. I'm good an' licked. Tom Bowman said this was a slow game; he ain't seen you play."

"That was just a little trap for beginners," Jacob confessed. "You could have defeated it by threatening my Queen with that Knight--can't afford to lose her ladyship--she's the most powerful piece of all."

"The King fella just loafs around an' lets all the rest, includin' his lady, fight for him," Gerry said. "I reckon the gent who made this game didn't think a lot o' monarchs."

"The game is the oldest known," Jacob said. "It is believed to have originated in Hindustan....' Sudden left them to it, and made his way--on foot, for once --to the Paris, the proprietor of which greeted him with a reproving shake of the head.

"My fren'," he said. "I no like to see you--alone."

"Gerry stayed in--Jacob is teachin' him chess."

"Ver' good--for him," Bizet replied. "But for you ..."

"Shucks, I'm man-size," Sudden smiled.

The saloon-keeper did not laugh. "I know not'ing, but I am disturb'," he said. "Go home, my fren', an' learn ze chess." The cowboy shrugged. "I'm playin' it right now, Bizet, an' waitin' for the next move." It came sooner than he expected. Having joined a poker party for a while, he left early on the plea that he had been riding nearly all day, and was tired. Though close to midnight it was, for Deadwood, and in the local idiom, "just the shank of the evening." Clamour reigned supreme. All the saloons and dance-halls were in full swing and the light from their windows made progress along the street possible for the pedestrian. But as the puncher neared home he became aware that the night was very dark, and he had to walk warily.

He was less than a hundred yards from the cabin when, from a dense overhanging bush, a heavy weight dropped on his shoulders and the shock sent him to his knees. For an instant he fancied it was a bear, and then the fingers feeling for his throat told him otherwise. With a superhuman effort he staggered to his feet and managed to buck off the burden. But before he could get at his guns, other forms closed in out of the gloom and he had to use his fists. Right and left he struck, piston-like, short-arm jabs, delivered with all the vigour of perfect muscles, and a thrill of fierce exultation ran through him as he felt his knuckles impact on flesh and bone.

It was too dark to see, but he knew that at least half a dozen men were trying to pull him down, and with berserk fury he flung his fists at them. Slipping in the loose dust, the tangled knot of humanity swayed to and fro, panting, cursing, and grunting when a random blow reached a billet.

Suddenly conscious of hands clawing at his ankles, the cowboy swung his right foot back in a sharp kick and an agonized burst of profanity testified that the big spur had proved effective. But it was a costly success, for Sudden lost his balance and went down. Some of the assailants fell on him but the fight was not yet over. Utterly spent, with every sinew throbbing with pain, the cowboy battled on, striking, kicking, twisting in a hopeless endeavour to free himself. Then came a dull blow on the head and--oblivion.

When he returned to the world again it was to find the sun shining. He was lying in a grassy glade hedged in by a thick growth of lodge-pole pines, and for a moment he could not comprehend. Then he realized that his hands and feet were bound; his chaps, Stetson and guns had vanished.

"They seem to 'a' got me," he muttered.

He made an attempt to sit up and every bone in his body protested so violently that the pain drew an oath. Immediately a man appeared, to stand regarding him with satirical eyes through the slits of the bandana which concealed his face. His dress was that of a miner."So you are alive?" he said. "Well, I'm glad.

"I ain't exactly sorry myself," Sudden admitted, forcing his bruised lips to a difficult grin. "Don't tell me I'm the on'y one in the hospital." The man's eyes hardened. "You ain't," he said harshly. "I'm allowin' you damaged most of us, an' Lem"--he paused, conscious of a blunder--"the fella you backheeled, has a cheek laid open an' damn near lost an eye; kickin' with a spur ain't no way to fight."

"When six or seven men jump one in the dark anythin' goes," the prisoner returned bluntly. "I'm glad I marked him, case we meet again."

"If you do it'll be in hell an' you'll have to wait--he's young," was the sinister reply.

"Age doesn't worry me none yet, an' I never was scared o' fair-haired fellas."

"He ain't--" the man began, and stopped.

Sudden laughed. "Lem, young, dark, with a scar on his cheek--why, I got his picture; yu needn't tell me his other name." With an unintelligible growl the fellow went away and, soon after, another appeared with food, took the rope from the prisoner's wrists, and watched while he ate. This man was also masked.

"Careful o' yore complexions, ain't yu?" the puncher said genially, and got no reply. "Mind if I roll some pills afore yu tie me up again?" Receiving a gruff assent, he got his "makings," and constructed a supply of cigarettes. Then, with one between his lips and his back against a tree, he submitted to the replacing of his bonds, and was left alone. Though he felt easier, his body was still one big ache.

Across the open space he could see a primitive erection of poles which provided some sort of shelter, and around a fire in front of it, four men were lolling. Completely closed in by the trees, with a sight only of the sky overhead, the puncher could not guess where he was nor why he had been brought there. The latter he was soon to learn, for presently, the man who had spoken to him first came over and squatted cross-legged a few yards away.

"Well, I reckon it's time we had a pow-pow," he commenced. "Wonderin' why we fetched you here, huh?"

"I was admirin' the view; ye just naturally ruin it," the prisoner replied.

"Gettin' fresh won't help you none, Sudden--we've drawed yore teeth. All we want is yore promise to take us to Ducane's mine." The cowboy's face did not betray his surprise. So that was it? Despite the secrecy of their departure, it had been observed, and Snowy's previous tall talk had given their expedition importance. This could not be Lesurge; someone else was taking a hand in the game.

"Nice place yu got here," he remarked pleasantly.

"Glad you like it; yo're liable to remain permanent unless you come across," the other retorted grimly. He pulled a revolver from his waist-belt. "I'm givin' you ten seconds." The threatened man launched a perfect smoke ring at the levelled barrel. "Why waste time, hombre; let her rip," he said.

For an instant he thought the fellow would fire; he saw his grip of the butt tighten and steeled his body against the numbing shock of a bullet. But it did not come.

"You've got nerve, Sudden," the man admitted, as he replaced his weapon and stood up. "Mebbe we'll find another way o' persuadin' you." He slouched away and the prisoner leaned back against his tree; only just in time had the kidnapper remembered that a dead body could tell them nothing. But the prospect was not heartening--there would be other ordeals. Telling himself that it was no good climbing hills till you came to them, he went to sleep.

A slight commotion in the camp awakened him some hours later. A man on a black horse had just arrived, leading another animal on which was a woman; her hands were tied behind and she was blindfolded. Amid deep-throated mirth, one of the gang lifted her from the saddle and removed the handkerchief; it was Lora Lesurge. He had but little time for speculation. The man who had threatened him with death brought the woman to where he sat.

"Told you we'd find another way," he jeered. "Here's a friend o' yores who'll mebbe get you to see things different--for her sake. I'll leave you to chew it over." Lora sank down wearily; she was utterly exhausted. The supercilious, self-assured woman, serenely conscious of her charm had, for the time being, receded, leaving only a frightened girl.

"God I never was so pleased to see anyone," she cried. "But how come yu to be here?" Sudden asked.

"I came to visit you--for Paul," she explained. "I rode towards your claim, but before I reached it I heard a shot from up on the hill-side, and just afterwards, a rider came out ofsome bushes ahead of me. Before I could utter a sound he gripped my throat and squeezed it till I lost consciousness. I recovered on the way here, to find myself packed like a piece of merchandise on the back of my horse." Incredible as the story seemed, Sudden could not but believe it; those cruel, livid marks on the slender white neck were real enough. He had already decided that his leggings and hat had been taken for some purpose but it could not be this--they could not have known of the girl's errand.

"But why are you here?" she questioned, and, noticing the battered condition of his face, "What have they been doing to you?"

"We had a li'l argument 'bout my comin'," the puncher told her, with a lopsided grin, "but there was too many of 'em an' they persuaded me." He gave a sketchy account of his adventure, including--as an experiment--the question he had been asked. The result was disappointing; unfeigned admiration was all he could find in her face, and that was not what he wanted.

"Why didn't you promise?" she cried. "It isn't your gold-mine."

"Snowy trusted me," he said simply.

"You could have taken them to the wrong place." He looked at her quizzically. "Yeah, it don't matter much where a fella is buried." She was silent for a while, fighting to regain her self-control. Apparently she succeeded, for when the leader of the gang approached again she faced him boldly.

"I suppose you know me?" she said, and when he nodded, "My brother will have a hundred men out searching, and if you are caught you will hang, every one of you."

"We're givin' you the shack," he said gruffly. "Better turn in an' git some sleep. I'll speak with you in the mornin'."

"I prefer to stay here," she replied.

"Do I have to carry you?" he asked.

"Good night--Jim," she said.

Chapter XIII

Sudden's disappearance caused consternation in the cabin of the gold-dealer, and Gerry's first job in the morning was to interview Bizet. The proprietor of the Paris could only tell him that the puncher had left early, sober and alone.

"I warn him to be careful," he said. "He have made enemy, you understan'?" One or two men remembered meeting him in the street, heading for home, and that was all he could learn. On the way back from his futile quest, his plainsman's eye noted the signs of a scuffle near the big bush, turf torn up, stones dislodged, and, in one place, a splash of blood. The ground behind was trodden flat and littered with cigarette stubs. A little way off, horses had waited. Gerry swore.

"Damnation! They laid for him," he growled. "I oughtn't to 'a' let him go alone." He tried to follow the hoof-prints, but soon had to give it up as hopeless. He returned to Jacob and told him what he feared.

"He ain't gone willin'--the marks show that," he concluded. "An' he'd never leave Nigger behind."

"We can only wait," the old man said. "I've great faith in your friend; if he's in trouble, he'll get out of it." But two days passed and there was no news of the missing man, and then Gerry got a shock. He was in the Paris, talking to Bizet and Hickok, when a half-drunken miner lurched up and said sneeringly:

"Still mournin' that pardner o' your'n? Well, you needn't to worry 'bout him. He's holed up somewheres handy an' he's the swine who's killin' an' robbin' we'uns of our dust, one at a lick. But mebbe I ain't bringin' you news?" For a moment the cowboy did not comprehend; then the full import of the accusation came to him, and he acted. His left fist swung out, caught the speaker full in the mouth and sent him sprawling on the sanded floor. When, spitting out curses and blood from badly gashed lips, he started to rise, he found Gerry's gun slanted on him.

"Own yo're a liar," the boy gritted, his face pale with fury. The blow and the threat sobered the miner. "Mebbe, but I'm on'y tellin' you the common talk," he said sullenly.

Hickok put a hand on Gerry's arm. "Let him get up an' we'll hear what he has to say," he suggested.

The man climbed to his feet. "There was a digger shot an' cleaned out two days back an' a fella wearin' leggin's, a 'two-gallon' hat, ridin' a black hoss, was seen around just before," he said. "This arternoon another is clubbed, an' dies, but not before he's able to say one word, 'Sudden.' Them's fac's, mister," he concluded triumphantly.

"My partner is not the killer," Gerry retorted angrily. "I know Jim."

"You may, but there's a-plenty in this city as don't, an' if he's catched he'll take the high jump, I'm tellin' you. He wears the duds an' rides a black."

"Which has been in Jacob's corral the whole time," the boy pointed out.

"Havin' bin left as a blind," suggested a bystander, and earned a look from the gunman which sent him sidling towards the door.

"I too know Green," Hickok said loudly. "He is not the kind to commit cowardly crimes." This pronouncement finished the discussion so far as the Paris was concerned, but in the other saloons the matter was being fiercely commented on and the puncher was already adjudged guilty and condemned. The only other topic which vied with it in importance was the disappearance of Miss Lesurge. At first Paul had accepted her absence with a quiet confident smile.

"Lora can take care of herself," he said.

But when the second day passed and he learned that Green was also missing, he became uneasy, and sent out searchers to comb the district; they returned without news.

"Mebbe they've run away to git hitched," Snowy suggested. Paul's eyes flashed, but he smiled. "Forty dollars a month wouldn't keep Lora in shoe-leather," he said. "But of course, he knows where your mine is." The old man looked alarmed for a moment, and then replied stoutly, "Jim wouldn't do a thing like that--he's white."

"According to what they're saying in town he's as black as Satan's soul," Lesurge contradicted.

Though he had scoffed at it, Snowy's guess returned to him when he was alone, and brought a heavy frown to his brow. Pacing up and down the room, he weighed the pros and cons, and knowing Lora's tempestuous nature, had to admit that it was possible.

"She wouldn't dare," he muttered, and knew he lied.

Meanwhile, in the kidnappers' camp, the prisoners were playing for time. In the morning, their leader paid Sudden another visit, bringing the lady with him. The night's rest, a wash in a nearby spring, a few deft touches to hair and dress, had transformed her into a different person, and the puncher saw admiration in their gaoler's eyes when she greeted her companion in captivity with a gay smile. But the fellow's voice was gruff when he asked:

"Any new ideas this mornin'?"

"Nary a one," Sudden told him. "Yo're what a friend o' mine calls `stale-mated.' Murderin' me won't get yu what yo're after, an' lettin' me live won't neither."

"I ain't so shore. There's means to make a man open his mouth--if it's on'y to squeal."

"Go right ahead."

"I'm aimin' to. When I've done with you--"

"Yu'll be wise as before--still dumb." With an oath the man turned away, but Lora drew him aside.

"Have you no sense at all?" she asked sharply. "Can't you see the type you are dealing with? He's as obstinate as a mule and torture won't move him."

"He's a tough hombre, all right, as some of us has reason to know," the man growled, "but s'pos'n the--persuasion--is applied to you?" The woman's cheeks became a shade paler at this diabolic suggestion but she answered steadily: "It would make no difference--he's not my lover, and these gunmen have no feelings. Besides"--and her glance was soft, caressing--"you wouldn't do anything to hurt me--Hank."

"Who gave you my name?" he asked suspiciously.

"I heard one of the others call you," she explained. "You don't mind my knowing, do you?" He muttered a curse and through the slits in the mask his greedy gaze roamed over her, from the slender feet in their trim riding-boots to the felt hat set jauntily on the wealth of glossy black hair. She endured the scrutiny with a reliant smile.

"Well?" she asked.

"Yo're a good-looker, for shore," he admitted. "What's yore plan?"

"Leave our friend to me," she replied. "I can make him see reason, but it will take time, and we must be together."

"How much time?"

"Several days probably--he's not easy."

"An' while I'm waitin', Ducane gits the mine," he objected.

"Sudden's his friend--he won't start without him," she urged, and then smiled. "Are you so eager to part with me?" A muffled laugh came from behind the mask. "When we go after the gold yo're comin' along, my beauty. Well, I'm givin' you two days; if you ain't turned the trick by then, it'll be for me to try." With the ominous threat ringing in her ears Lora went back-to the puncher, who had watched the conversation with some impatience. He could not hear what was said but he guessed the woman was pleading for him, and did not like the idea

"We have two days," she said, as she sat down. "Two little days to bewitch you with my poor charms and, like a modern Delilah, betray you to your enemies." She spoke jestingly, but ended on a bitter note. "And the fool believes that I will try."

"I'm obliged to yu, ma'am, but " Sudden began.

"Don't be stupid," she said sharply. "I was merely thinking of myself. With you crippled by torture, what chance have I of escaping from these wretches?" And then her manner changed. "Sorry, Jim, I didn't mean to be snappy," she finished.

"What we gotta think about is hoodwinkin' these smarties an' slidin' outa here," he said.

That day passed and the next, without any opening presenting itself. Always watched, they could not tamper with their bonds in daylight, and at nightfall the woman was conducted back to the shelter. Dusk found them sitting in the old spot, glum, dispirited.

"We must do something," Lora said desperately. "Hank will want his answer to-night. The beast is beginning to think he owns me. Isn't it possible to free ourselves?"

"Tied up like this, undoin' them knots needs a lot o' time an' we ain't got it. If we on'y had a knife."

"A knife?" she whispered. "Heavens, what a fool I am. I always carry one, and they never thought to search me." Her bound hands fumbled at the bosom of her dress and then dropped. "I can't get it, Jim," she said. "You try." She bent towards him, and in the fading light he saw the gleam of a white throat and felt her shiver as his groping fingers touched the soft silken softness of her skin. Then they closed on the haft of a tiny Spanish dagger and drew it from the sheath. A mere three inches of steel sharp-pointed and keen-edged as a razor, it was a toy, but a terrible one. Sudden glanced across the glade. Two men only were squatting by the fire. In a few moments it would be dark. Hank was late.

He stooped and cut loose the girl's bonds, and when she had done the same for him, slipped the weapon into the top of his right-hand boot, where it would be easily accessible. Then he saw one of the men stand up and stretch himself.

"Follow me," he whispered. "Tread as lightly as yu can." Swiftly they melted into the darkness of the pines. Slipping like shadows between the slender trunks of the trees they con trived to reach the other side of the glade. So far their absence did not appear to have been discovered.

"I'm goin' to try for my guns," Sudden whispered. "Wait." Before she could voice a protest, a man going towards the camp almost stepped on them. His cry of alarm died in his throat as a blow like a flung stone took him on the point of the jaw. Sudden caught the falling body and lowered it to the ground. His hands were busy for a moment and when he spoke the girl knew that he was amused.

"Thoughtful o' Hank to bring my guns," he murmured "He was wearin' em, an' my hat an' chaps. Was he the fella that fetched yu here?"

"He might have been," she replied.

"It don't signify. Hank'll be good an' quiet for a spell an' I reckon the rest won't start anythin' till he turns up." They tramped on through seemingly endless aisles of pines and at length reached an open space. The puncher studied the sky and swore softly.

"Not a blame' star to steer by," he said. "We'll have to wait for sunrise to get a direction. Better keep a-movin' though." For another hour they struggled on. Speed was out of the question for there was no trail, and, in the dark, it was impossible to avoid difficulties. Thorny thickets, scrub-covered ridges, steep-sided stony ravines, jumbled together in bewildering confusion were encountered and had to be overcome, and after a time even the cowboy--wiry and tough as rawhide --was beginning to feel the strain. And he knew that his companion must be nearly dead, but he dared not stop; at the best, he reckoned they could only have covered a few miles, and if they had circled ... Daybreak was at hand when the girl finally slumped down on a fallen tree-trunk.

They had been descending a wide, stony slope covered with prickly scrub and trees. Now, from higher up, came the crack of a rifle and a small cloud of smoke showed against the foliage. Lora clutched her companion's arm.

"They ain't shootin' at us yet," he reassured. "That pill went over our heads was just an invite to stay an' be catched. We ain't acceptin'."

"Is it--Hank?" she asked, and when he nodded, added viciously, "You should have killed him."

"I expect yo're right, but I never did like stickin' pigs." He had been examining their surroundings and his quick eye picked out the place he wanted. "C'mon." Unhurriedly he set out for it, the crest of a ridge, the approach to which was too bare to afford cover for attack.

Lora followed, the fear of being retaken spurring her, but soon she was lagging behind, and then--when they were no more than half-way--she dropped. Somewhat to her surprise, the puncher came back.

"I'm sorry, but my limbs won't take me another step," she groaned.

"That's the worst o' them ornamental legs," he sneered.

Like the lash of a whip the brutal jeer fetched her to her feet. With fists clenched and teeth clamped she lurched onwards, blind to everything save that she must keep moving. She did not see the pitying eyes of the man who strode beside her. So they came to the foot of the incline and there she collapsed like a pricked bladder.

Sudden saw that she could do no more. Bending, he lifted her and staggered up the ascent. She was heavier than he had thought, and before long, his already tired muscles were throbbing with the pain of over-exertion. A bullet spat into the ground a few feet away, and, as if the report had awakened her, the girl opened her eyes. When she realized what was happening her head snuggled into his shoulder and her lips parted. Staring straight in front, Sudden plodded doggedly on, and, reaching the top at last, allowed his burden to stand up.

"Glad to be rid of me, Jim?" she asked archly.

"I shore am," was the ungallant reply. "Get behind that rock there--these hombres will be sendin' somethin' more than invitations soon." Even as he spoke, another bullet whined over their heads and the puncher laughed as he dived behind the outcrop of stone he had pointed out. Another half-dozen shots followed, thudding into the slope in front of them.

"Hank is gettin' peevish," Sudden grinned. "It ain't goin' to be so simple as he figured." Lora did not reply. Crouched behind their rampart, she was considering her companion. With all her experience of men, she had never met his like. His heartless attitude still rankled though she knew that, save for it, they would probably be in captivity again. But he had carried her up the slope, and at the thought her eyes softened.

He had dared death rather than break a promise to a friend, and now, facing odds of five or six to one, he joked. She could not fathom him. Hitherto, conquest of the other sex had been so easy as to become almost tiresome. This man was different.

"I will make him care," she promised herself. "Bring him to his knees, and then--laugh." She watched him, prone on the ground, peering between two chunks of stone, his lean, brown face alight with interest, the keen eyes never still.

"If I had my rifle I'd make them reptiles hunt their holes mighty rapid," he remarked. His pistol exploded and a man who had incautiously shown himself jumped from his dropping mount and shook a curious fist.

"Did you--hit one?" she asked.

"Hell, no," he said disappointedly. "It's too long a range for good pistol-work. Downed his hoss--he'll have to hoof it if he wants to follow us."

"More walking?" she queried dismally.

"Shorely, since I can't carry yu that far an' we ain't got wings--yet. If we stay here till dark they'll creep up an' gather us in. 'Sides, we got no water." Both of them were becoming painfully aware of this fact, for the sun, a great golden ball, was now well above the eastern ranges and its rays, though still oblique, were strong enough to cause discomfort. Down in the valleys the purple mists lingered.

"You might have chosen a shadier place," she pouted.

"Yeah," he drawled. "Or I mighta told the sun to stay put, like the gent in the Bible, or--" His gun cracked again. "Tally one," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Just a term we use brandin' cattle," he explained. "Right now it signifies we got one less bandit to bother about." Callous as she herself could be, Lora shivered. Then she remembered that the speaker was fighting for his life, and for her. His next remark gave her something else to think about.

"Hell! Here they come." Either the loss had exasperated the attackers or they realized that a bold policy only was likely to he successful, for they suddenly burst from the brush and raced towards the ridge, yelling and shouting. There were five of them.

Sudden, on his knees, both guns out, waited until they were half-way, and then, with inconceivable rapidity, the hammers rose and fell, sending out a staccato stream of crashes like a roll of thunder. Two of the ponies went down and the rider of one lay still; the second lighted on his feet, to turn and bolt before that death-storm of lead. The other three, one of whom was swaying in his saddle, promptly followed his example. Sudden watched till he saw them far up the hill.

"They've skedaddled," he said.

Lora rose and looked down the slope. The dead man, grotesquely sprawled in the sunshine, and the two horses, wereall she saw. One of the animals was making futile efforts to stand up. The cowboy fired and the poor brute sank down. The seemingly wanton act jarred her frayed nerves.

"Haven't you shed enough blood?" she asked bitingly.

He looked at her levelly. "I'm fond o' horses. That one had a broken leg. Have yu ever seen how buzzards treat a wounded beast? They pick out the eyes first "

"Don't tell me," she almost screamed. "Let us go." They set out and presently found a stream where they drank and bathed their scratched faces and hands. The water, ice-cold from the mountains, seemed to steady the girl. She was obviously worn out, but she made no complaint, and he could not but admire her courage. Several times she refused his proffered help, but once, on the bank of a shallow creek, she hesitated. Without a word, he swept her up into his arms and carried her over.

"No wonder they call you `Sudden'," she said breathlessly as he put her down again.

"They don't--if they like me," he returned harshly.

They fell into a silence which endured until he called a halt and went to climb a hillock which would give him a wider view of the country.

"Hearney's Peak is over there," he said, pointing. "Deadwood can't be so far away; we should make it before night. Yu can sleep for an hour. They say, 'He who sleeps, dines.' " As obedient as a child, she curled herself up on a carpet of dry leaves and closed her eyes. Sudden lighted a cigarette and sat down to keep watch. Lying there, one soft cheek pillowed on a palm, she looked very lovely despite her torn garments and untended hair, but the man gave her one thought only--"As dangerous to handle as a rattler," and fell to studying the --to him--more interesting problem of her brother.

When they resumed the journey it was patent that the rest had done her good.

Peering into a stream she caught the reflection of herself. "Heavens! what a sight I am," she ejaculated.

"I like yu better this way," he said bluntly, and got a quick smile of thanks.

Night was falling when, at long last, they reached the top of the gulch and saw the blurred string of lights which marked the town below. Both were terribly footsore, and the woman was so completely exhausted that her companion had almost to carry her. By keeping behind the buildings and so avoiding the street, they managed to reach her dwelling unobserved. Spent as he was, he would not go in.

"It ain't far to Jacob's an' the sooner yu hit yore blankets, the better," he excused.

"I feel I can sleep a week," she confessed.

"Forty winks won't be no use to me either," he grinned. "Jim, you've been splendid," she whispered.

"Aw, forget it," he said uncomfortably. "Yu pulled yore weight--an' more."

"I'll always remember," she said in a low voice. "Good night --partner." How he managed the final stage of the journey Sudden never quite knew. Gerry told him afterwards that he stumbled in, wolfed a meal, gave them a brief account of his adventures, and flinging himself on his bed, slept like a dead man.

"We didn't know whether yu was drunk or dreamin'," he said. "An' we didn't care neither."

Chapter XIV

When Sudden awoke in the morning his first impression was that the events of the previous day had been a nightmare, for his hands were still bound. Then he realized that he was in his own room and that it was full of men, one of whom--a giant known as "Husky" Miller--was shaking him roughly by the shoulder and telling him to get up. In the background he could see Gerry, struggling savagely with two burly fellows who were each gripping an arm. Jacob was not there. The hard, scowling faces cleared his sleep-befogged brain.

"What's the trouble?" he asked.

"No trouble a-tall--it's goin' to be a pleasure," was the grim retort, and some of the men laughed. "Aimin' to walk or have we gotta tote you?"

"What do yu want with me?" the puncher asked quietly. "They're intendin' to hang yu, Jim," Gerry oroke in. "Yo're accused o' murderin' miners while yu were away."

"I've been held prisoner in the hills the whole time," Sudden said. "Don't I get a hearin'?"