Sudden Law o The Lariat

"Well, yu've shore bin askin' for trouble, an' now yu got it," he said. "I'm guessin' this will put yu in the pen."

"Better guess again, sheriff, an' mebbe yu'll be right," suggested the drawling voice of the Lazy M foreman.

He had come in unobserved, and now stood leaning idly against the bar, his thumbs hooked in his belt, and a look of mingled amusement and contempt on his face. Tyler jerked round, his hand flying to his gun-butt.

"Don't yu," urged the newcomer gently. "Yu ain't no more fit to die than yu are to live."

Tyler's face turned a pasty yellow; his gesture had been a bluff, and he was conscious that the other man knew it. He had no intentionofforcing a fight with this cold-blooded, mocking devil. The entryofthe Bar B owner heartened him, and he tried to gathen together the shattered fragments of his dignity.

"As sheriff o' thisyer town--" he began.

"Yo're a hopeless failure--yu needn't tell us," Severn interposed. "Now, see here, sheriff. Our distinguished citizen, Mister Bartholomew, has joined us. He don't know nothin' o' this ruckus, o' course. S'pose yu ask his opinion."

By this time Bartholomew had elbowed his way through the company, and Severn had not failed to note his fleeting expressionofchagrin when he saw Devint's body, nor the poisonous flashofhatred directed at Larry. But he instantly got controlofhis features again, and listened unmoved while the sheriff, anxious to transfer his burden of responsibility, related the facts. He saw at once the position into which Severn had so astutely jockeyed him. As a friendofPhil Masters he could not condemn the action of her defender. He did not hesitate.

"The skunk deserved to die, an' if this fella hadn't rubbed him out I'd 'a' done it myself," he said, with a savage emphasis which convinced many of his hearers. "If there's a man here who ain't satisfied that Devint was lyin', p'raps he'll step forward." No one responding to the invitation, he turned to the sheriff. "Yu say it was an even break?"

"I didn't see the scrap, but I'm told so," Tyler had to admit.

"There ain't nothin' to do then," the rancher said, and with a sneer to Severn, "Yu can take yore man away, but he'd better watch out; mebbe he won't be so lucky next time."

"I reckon the Lazy M can take care of itself," the foreman told him.

With the help of Ridge and his two riders, the wounded man was conveyed to the ranch. This time Phil, hearing them arrive, thrust aside her scruples and went to meet them. At the sightofLarry held on his horse by twoofthe others, her heart seemed to turn over.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"Barton had a run-in with Devint, an' is drilled through the shoulder--nothin' serious," Severn assured her.

"And Devint?"

"Cashed," was the brief reply.

The girl shuddered and asked no more. Larry had killed a man. Barton was carried to the ranch-house and installed in Philip Master's bed. As she explained to Severn, it would be easier for Dinah and herself to tend him there than in the bunkhouse. The invalid himself, though weak and in pain, made lightofhis injury. What hurt him much more was the cold and alof attitudeofthe girl. When his wound had been re-dressed, he seized a moment when he was alone with her.

"I'm right distressed to give yu all this trouble," he said. "Yu oughta let the boys look after me."

She shook her head, and then, "Oh, why did you do it? To cold-bloodedly go in search of a fellow-creature to kill him; it is horrible."

She saw his pale face flush and the lines about his mouth harden.

"Devint's kind ain't fellow-creatures no more than a rattler is," he said slowly. "Let me tell yu somethin' about him. He an' some others once hanged an old man on a charge they knew he was innocent f. Devint put the noose round his neck, an' because he spoke, struck him in the face. That's a true story."

"But why should you punish him--there's a law to do that," she protested.

"What I've told yu happened ten years ago; the law is a mite slow," he said, and after a pause, "I would do the same again."

She knew that he was right; but she would not admit it. She knew, too, that had anyone but Larry done the killing it would not have affected her so deeply, but this again she would not admit, even to herself.

It was not until the following morning that she heard the real story of the shooting. She had ridden in to Hope, and had justdismounted in frontofCallahan's store when Bartholomew came along. His face grew darker at the sightofher.

"'Lo, Phil," he said. "Reckon yu'll allow now that I was right. Yu see what's come o' yore foolishness, ridin' around with a hand; one man dead an' another perforated."

"But that had nothing to do with it," she cried.

"It had everythin' to do with it," Bartholomew said angrily. "Devint's in the `Come Again' shootin' off his mouth 'bout seein' yu an' that pup kissin' an' cuddlin' in Snake Coulee, an' Barton tells him he is a liar."

Phil's heart sang within her. Larry had fought for her good name; he was not a cold-blooded slayer.

"I got there too late, or I'd 'a' wiped the houn' out myself," the Bar B owner went on. "O' course I don't believe it, but it ain't a very nice tale for a fella to hear about his future wife."

The girl looked up quickly. "I am not that, Mr. Bartholomew," she said. "If I have ever given you any reason to think I might be, I am sorry. You must forget it."

Her tone was cold and decisive, and a spasm of rage contracted the rancher's features. He knew that she meant every word, but he would not allow himself to think so. With an effort he forced a smile.

"Aw, don't get sore at me, Phil," he said placatingly. "I haven't got the trick o' makin' pretty speeches, but I want yu, girl, an' I ain't takin' that as yore final answer."

"I shall not change," she said quietly, and walked away.

Bartholomew stared after her for a moment, his rage again uppermost, and then turned and strode up the street. Blind with passion, he blundered into a pedestrian coming the other way, and with an oath and a sweepofhis fist, hurled him from the board sidewalk into the dusty roadway. The victimofhis wrath, a smallish man who wore a stubbleofgrey beard and a patch over one eye, picked himself up and glared malevolently. He was wearing a gun, and Phil fully expected to see the bully shot down, but with a rumbled threat the stranger went on his way, directing a curious glance at the girl as he passed her.

Chapter XIII

THE discoveryofPhil's real stateofmind regarding him was a bitter blow to Bartholomew's hopes and his vanity. So that for the restofthe day his outfit had a trying time, and when Penton dropped in at the Bar B ranch-house in the evening, he found the owner in anything but a pleasant frame of mind. The foreman, who had not seen him for twenty-four hours, came to the point at once.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Damn near everythin'," was the surly reply. "Heard about Devint?"

"I just met up with him," Penton said.

"What? Devint's dead. Yu ain't drunk are yu?" snapped he rancher.

"Not so as yu'd notice it," Penton told him. "Like I said, I met up with Devint--he's hangin' on the tree by Forby's shack, an' there's a fourth notch cut."

Bartholomew glared at him. "Severn's still playin' thatofof game, is he?" he growled.

"Yu oughta done what I said an' burnped Severn off right away," Penton told him. "The girl would 'a' found some means o' gettin' round Embley. It ain't too late now--she'd soon forget, him."

"Damnation! She don't care no more for Severn than a cat likes swimmin'," Bart burst out. "It's that cursed pup what downed Devint."

He related his meeting with Phil in the morning.

"So she gave you the frozen mitt, eh?" Penton said. "That's a hoss with a different brand, ain't it? I reckon yu gotta say farewell to the Lazy M, Bart, an' be content to be second-best man at the weddin'."

The big man looked at the bitter, sarcastic faceofthe speaker, and his own grew blacker.

"I ain't feelin' funny, Penton," he warned.

"I don't see nothin' humorous about it my own self," his foreman rejoined. "I thought mebbe I was expressin' yore own sentiments, though I gotta admit I ain't ever found yu a quitter before."

"An' I don't aim to be now," the Bar B owner said harshly. "What I go after, I get, come hell or high water. It ain't goin' to be as easy as I hoped, that's all. We gotta take chances."

"Well, we've done that afore an' got away with it," Penton allowed. "No means o' gettin' Embley on our side, I s'pose?" Bartholomew's smile was satanic. "Yu must be a blighted thought-reader, Pent," he said. "Yes, there is a way, but I ain't got it worked out yet. For now, just keep on puttin' it about that Severn likely rubbed out Masters."

Penton nodded. "Can't pin Stevens on him too, eh?" he asked.

"It wouldn't do," Bart said. "He could easy prove he warn't in the neighbourhood then."

"Gettin' rid o' Stevens to make room for Severn didn't do us no good," the foreman remarked.

"Yo're damn right, it didn't, but who'd 'a' thought Masters would bring in a stranger?" Bartholomew growled. "We reckoned on his givin' the job to Devint."

"Masters warn't quite so dumb as we figured," Penton said as he went out.

Bartholomew's grunt was one of affirmation; he was beginning to realise that he had underrated the late ownerofthe Lazy M.

It was a message from Ridge, conveyed by oneofhis riders, that brought Severn into Hope several days after the shooting. On his way to Bent's, where the XT man had arranged to meet him, the foreman sensed a difference in the attitude of the inhabitants towards himself. Several men to whom he had nodded or spoke before, passed without apparently seeing him. Ridge, who was waiting, soon explained the reason for this.

"Ain't wantin' to make more trouble for yu, but I reckon yu oughta know that it's bein' generally spread around that yu downed Masters," the rancher said bluntly.

"Bart's men seem to be doin' the talkin'," Bent added. "Me an' Ridge thought yu might have a word to say about it." Severn's eyes darkened. "I have," he said quietly. "I'm agoin' up to the `Come Again' right now to say it--to Mister Bartholomew."

"Yu ain't goin' alone, neither," the XT man put in.

"If I could leave here--" the saloon-keeper began, but Severn waved him to silence.

"I'm obliged, but stay put, old-timer," he said. "No call for yu to mix in this."

The big bar-room at the "Come Again" was well patronised, and had Severn needed confirmationofthe rumour about himself, the fact that only one or two men returned his greeting would have provided it. Bartholomew, Penton, Martin and several others were standing in a group. The Lazy M foreman walked straight up to them.

"Bartholomew," he said. "I hear yo're accusin' me o' murderin' Masters."

The big man was obviously nonplussed for a moment; he had not expected such a direct challenge. But he soon recovered his poise, and with a sneering grin at those about him, retorted :

"Well, s'pos'n it's so; what about it?"

"On'y this," Severn said coolly. "Yu will produce any evidence yu got, eat yore words, or--fight."

"I ain't takin' orders from yu," Bartholomew replied.

"No? Well, yo're takin' this, yu dirty coward," Severn flashed back.

With the words, he stepped forward and his open hand slapped the Bar B owner smartly across the cheek. The force of the blow was such that the recipient staggered back, his face livid. With an inarticulate growloffury he snatched at his gun. He had got it half outofthe holster when a drawling voice warned:

"I wouldn't."

Bartholomew hesitated, glaring. Severn's right hand Colt was covering him, though no man had seen him pull it. A gasp of astonishment came from the onlookers; Black Bart was esteemed the quickest on the draw for miles round, and he had been hopelessly beaten. For perhaps thirty seconds there was a tense heart-stopping silence, and then the man who had the drop spoke :

"Yu went for yore gun, Bartholomew, an' I got every right to down yu, but--stand awful still; a moveofone inch'll land yu plumb in hell."

The acid in the voice bit into the big man's brain. His hand was still on his gun, but he dared not draw. That crouching figure with the narrowed implacable eyes would not hesitate.

Helpless as a tied steer, Bartholomew stood waiting the willofthe man he hated, beadsofperspiration on his brow, his eyes like live coals.

"I've shown yu how easy it would be for me to kill yu," Severn said quietly. "But for reasons o' my own, I'm agoin' to let yu live a bit longer."

The foreman's pronouncement relaxed the terrific tensionofthe room in some degree, but all knew the incident was not over. The reprieve from what appeared to be certain death brought back a lintle of his habitual insolence to Bartholomew, and he waited with a bitter sneer on his face for the next move. When the foreman spoke again, his voice was low, vibrant.

"I've been told, Bartholomew, that yu are anxious to get yore hands on me," he stated. "I'm givin' yu the opportunity now. Shuck yore belt."

For an instant the rancher stared in surprise, and then a gleamofunholy joy shone in his eyes. There was no man in the Territory who could live with him in a rough and tumble encounter; the lamb had come willingly to the slaughter. His astonishment was shared by the others in the room, allofwhom knew the big man's reputation. Ridge's expression betrayed deep concern.

"Yu must be loco, Severn," he whispered. "They say he killed a fella with his bare hands in Desert Edge."

"Don't yu worry, old-timer," was the quiet reply.

Both men removed their vests, belts and spurs, while eager hands pushed aside tables and chairs, clearing a space round which Muger's customers, drinks and games forgotten, ranged themselves in close-pressed ranks. Every moment the door opened to admit newcomers as the tidings of the impending battle spread, until nearly the entire male population was congregated around the arena. A clamourofarguing voices had succeeded the silence.

Amidst it all stood Severn, watching his man, a surgeofsatisfaction in his heart. He knew that he was taking a great risk--his opponent was bigger-built, heavier, and though older, still in the primeoflife--but he did not care.

To the onlookers the contest seemed almost unfair. They saw the great bulkofthe rancher, whose every movement brought the muscles rippling into ridges beneath his shirt, and contrasted it with the slim, wiry figureofthe puncher. Fewofthem had any doubt as to the issue. It would be brute force against brains.

"Bart'll eat him, without salt," said one.

"He'll find him a tough mouthful," retorted his neighbour, who had been eyeing the puncher closely. "Barb-wire an' rawhide is what that fella's made of, an' he's fit."

"Allasame, I'm layin' two to one on the big 'un," the first speaker said loudly.

"Take that--to fifty," snapped Ridge instantly.

One or two otherofSevern's friends supported him, but they were few, and Bartholomew laughed when the odds were increased and still there were no takers.

"Too bad yu can't get no bets, boys, for it's goin' to be easy money," he called out. "I'll break every bone in his body."

"Chatter is cheap," Severn retorted. "Come an' do it, Mister --Mask."

He had not raised his voice, and probably few, if any,ofthe jostling, excited crowd caught the epithet. But Bartholomew heard it, was guiltyofa little startofsurprise, and swore when he saw the foreman's grin of comprehension.

For a short moment the two men faced one another, and then Severn, determined to get in the first punch, darted in like lightning, drove a right and left just above Bartholomew's belt-line and was out of reach before the other had recovered his breath. With a bellow of rage--for he had figured on commencing the combat--the rancher rushed in, swinging his formidable fists, dealing blows which had they landed might well have ended the battle then and there. But the foreman was wary; he knew that at close quarters he would be at a disadvantage; his only hope was to keep his opponent on the move, jumping in when opportunity offered to strike. Bartholomewfell into the trap; believing that his man was afraid, he went after him eagerly, only to find that the light, quick-footed puncher was somewhere else. The tactics irritated not only the rancher but his friends, and shouts of derision, mingled with entreaties to "stand an' fight like a man" came from the spectators.

Severn took no notice; he knew perfectly well what he was about; it was not the firsn time he had fought a bigger man than himself. Time after time he darted in, slammed one fist and then the other into his opponent's body, and got away laughing. The shouting crowd, thrusting and squirming to get a good view, swayed back and forth, gradually narrowing the space cleared for the combatants. Dust rose in clouds from the boards under the stamping, scuffling feetoffighters and followers. Tobacco smoke hung like a haze over the room; the smell of kerosene, and an intolerable heat added to the discomfort. Shouts of encouragement, mostly for Bartholomew, mingled with the cursesofthose unfortunate enough to get hurt in the melee.

Despite all that Ridge and one or two others could do, the ring soon grew smaller again, and Severn found himself forced into close quarters winh the big man who, quick to see his advantage, rushed in, flailing the air with his great arms. The puncher, unable to retreat, dodged what blows he could, took the remainder, and fought back doggedly, aiming for the body, which he had already selected as Bartholomew's weak spot. His lips drawn back in a snarling smile, his jaws clenched and narrowed eyes alert, he endured a shower of blows which would have beaten a less agile man to the ground, and every now and then his fists thudded into the bigger man's midriff. The successionofpunches in one place was beginning to have its effect, the Bar B man was breathing gustily, and he winced obviously when Severn gon a hit home.

The Lazy M man, too, was being severely punished; he could not evade all the blows, and presently a whirling right caught and sent him to his knees. Amidst a howlofjubilation from his supporters, Bart jumped forward and aimed a venomous kick at the puncher's head. Severn, on his feet but not upright, twisted aside, caught the big man's ankle and stood up. Thrown off his balance, Bartholomew crashed to the floor and lay there breathless and half stunned. Severn stood wanching him, gladofthe respine. In similar circumstances, the Bar B owner would have stamped the life out of his foe, but the cowboy did not fight that way. A tense silence gripped the spectators as they waited, and then someone said satirically :

"Goo'-night, Bart; pleasant dreams."

As if electrified, the fallen giant got to his feet and sprang at Severn.

This time, the foreman, insteadofretreating, came to meet him, and the next few minutes were an orgy of sheer ferocity; neither man made any attempt to guard himself, each being intent only on hurting the other. Severn knew that he was mad to do it, but the lust to pound the poisonously puffed faceofthe coward who had tried to kick him when he was down was too strong. In this he had succeeded, for oneofBart's eyes was closing, and the blood was streaming from a cut in his cheek; Severn's face also was bruished and gashed. He felt, too, that he was weakening, his head throbbed, and his arms were like lead, but he knew his opponent was in no better shape. In truth, Bartholomew's fall had shaken him; he was finding it difficult to get air enough into his lungs, his blows no longer had the same elasticity, and he moved more slowly.

"Even money the little 'un," shouted the man who had wished Bart "good-night".

If his purpose was to spur the big fellow to renewed efforts he accomplished it. Amidst the yells and oathsofthe nearly demented audience, who had by now reduced the space for the battle by more than half, Bart closed, and the fight became a medleyofflying fists again, from which came the thudofbone meeting bone, the sobofstarved lungs, and the grunt which toldofa blow successfully given. Suddenly Bartholomew drew himself up and swung his right arm. Severn saw the blow coming and stepped back, only to stumble over an outstretched foot and stagger sideways. The fist whistled harmless over his shoulder, but ere he could recover his balance, two great hands closed on his throat, the thumbs sinking in until they seemed to be crushing the bones. Choking, the lightsofthe saloon and the bestial ringofeager, writhing faces faded out, and he could see only thatofhis foe, a livid, malignant maskofsavagery. With a last effortofexpiring consciousness, he dashed his fist into it. For an instant all went dark, and then he opened his eyes to find Ridge and Callahan supporting him. Awkwardly sprawled on the floor lay the formofBartholomew, breathing stertorously but senseless. Some of the crowd frankly smiled and gave him a cheer; others, if they felt hostile, took care not to show it. Severn grinned feebly; he was all in, and his throat made speech difficult.

"What happened?" he inquired.

"What happened?" repeated Ridge, his face split by a wide smile. "Oh, nothin' much. Yu just tapped him on the chin an' he lay down to think it over. I reckon he's got his needin's for tonight, anyways. Come along to Bent's an' git cleaned up; yore face looks like an Injun massacre."

Almost unheeded by the milling throng round the fallen fighter, the three of them left the saloon. One man only watched them covertly--a short, middle-aged cowboy, with a dried-up wizened face, legs badly bowed by constant riding, and two worn, black-handled guns which hung low on his thighs. Severn saw him but took no notice.

"The sonofa gun," muttered the stranger, with a twisted smile, and went in searchofhis horse.

An hour later, the foreman, having removed the traces of the combat as far as possible, set out for the Lazy M. Bitterly bruised and aching as he was, his principal feeling was one of deep satisfaction; he had set himself a task and had done it, and the recollectionofthe battered hulk he had left on the saloon floor paid in full for his present pain. About a mile from town his horse whickered, and an indistinct form showed from behind a bush at the side of the trail.

"H'ist 'em," said a voice, but there was chuckle behind the command.

"H'ist nothin'," the traveller retorted. "Come outa that, yu ornery little runt, an' explain yoreself."

The bow-legged puncher who had been in the "Come Again" stepped into view.

"Orders from the boss," he grinned.

"So I ain't yore boss no longer, huh?" Severn queried. "Didn't I say for yu to stay at the YZ?"

"Orders from yore boss. Yessir, Miss Norry--" He paused at the other's laugh, and then resumed, "Oh, I know she's bin married two-three years, but she's still `Miss Norry' to the outfit, an' allus will be. Well, she says, `Snap, I got a letter from that man o' mine tellin' me everythin' is ca'm an' peaceful, an' things is workin' out fine. It's shore too good to be true; the better he makes it, the wuss it is. Yu fork a cayuse an' mosey along.' Reckon yu overplayed yore hand some."

The foreman grinned ruefully. "I'll never understand women," he said. "Yu can't fool 'em. If I'd told her things were a bit promiscuous, she'd 'a' sent yu just the same. How's everybody at the old homestead?"

"Fine as silk," Snap Lunt replied. "That yearling o' yores gets bigger while yu watch. I misdoubt he'll be a wuss hellion than his daddy. Tried to take my gun off'n me the other day, an' shore raised the roof when he couldn't have it."

"I'll bet he did--there ain't nothin' the matter with that young fella's lungs," the foreman agreed with paternal pride. "When d'yu get here, Snap?"

"Just in time for the show," Lunt said. "Yu ain't forgot how to use yore paws, Don."

"I ain't `Don' around here, Snap; I'm Jim Severn, even whenwe seem to be alone," the other warned him. "Yu come near bein' in time for my funeral--I shore thought he'd got me."

"That last was a daddyofa wallop--me, I'd sooner be kicked by an outlaw hoss," Lunt told him. "I'm glad I come; things don't seem so painfully peaceful around here."

"To tell yu the truth, old-timer, they ain't all Sunday school," Severn admitted. "Listen, this is the wayofit."

As briefly as possible he explained the situation, and the little gunman listened patiently to the end. Then in a rasping tone he said :

"Did I hear yu mention a fella called Shady?"

"Shore, a square-built chap, wide as he is long, pretty nigh. Know him?"

Snap's eyes gleamed. "His finger's the on'y square thing about him," he said huskily. "He bushwhacked a bunkie o' mine for his roll years ago. I'm damned glad I come. What yu want I should do?"

"Hang about in Hope, an' remember yu don't know me for now," Severn answered. "Bent, who runs a saloon, is one white man, an' Ridgeofthe XT is another. Yu'll be my ace in the hole, an' I shore got a good one. Better be driftin' now. S'long."

The newcomer climbed into his saddle and with a waveofhis hand trotted towards town, while Severn went on his way to the ranch.

"Snap an' Larry an' m'self--that's three to draw to insteadofa pair," he informed the air, and playfully pulled his pony's ears. "Boy, we'll beat 'em yet, an' it ain't no good yu standin' on one leg; use all four of 'em, yu misfit, an' get agoin'."

In fact, the unexpected adventofSnap Lunt, the grirn little gunman from his own ranch, the YZ, constituted a notable addition to his forces, and one that Severn, confident as he was in himself, was well content to have.

Chapter XIV

AT breakfast in the bunkhouse next morning, the foreman's battered appearance excited speculation but no comment. Larry, whom he visited later, and whose room he managed to reach without encountering Miss Masters, was not so discreet. The invalid, sitting up in bed with one arm in a sling, was discovering that even a slug from a .45 may have compensations. He regarded his friend with frank amazement.

"Who might yu be?" he inquired truculently.

"I might be nhe President o' the United States, but I ain't," retorted Severn.

Larry looked at him critically. "I don't like 'em," he said. "Don't like what, yu jackass?"

"Them alterations to yore face; it warn't nothin' to chuck a chest about afore, but yu ain't improved it any. It don't balance. Hi ! get off that hat, yu Siwash ! "

For the foreman, sitting down, had deliberately selected the chair on which Larry's Stetson reposed. He stood up and lifted the crushed headgear.

"Time yu had a new one," he commented, and then, "There, there, sick folk mustn't get all het up. How's the Princess treatin' yu these days?"

"She's a lady, Don," the boy replied.

"Yu call me that again an' I'll--tell her yo're a friend o' mine," Severn threatened.

"For the love o' Mike don't do that," the invalid implored. "I'm sorry, Jim, I forgot. Yu ain't told me the reason for the disguise yet."

It ain't a disguise, yu chump. I had a triflin' argument with Mister Bartholomew last night, that's all."

"I might 'a' knowed it," Larry said disgustedly, when he had heard the details. "The minute I ain't around to look after yu--" He chortled joyously. "I'll bet he's feelin' sore this glad mornin'."

"He's got company there," the foreman reminded him. "Gosh ! he ain't a man--he's a gorilla." He rose to go. "By the way, when yo're around again, if yu meet up with Snap in town, remember yu don't know him. Savvy?"

"Hi! what yu talkin' about?" queried the surprised youth. "Where's yore blamed hurry? Why can't yu tell a fella--" But Severn had vanished, and Larry swore in vain.

Greatly to his satisfaction, the foreman managed to retreat without meeting the mistressofthe house. In truth, the girl was sitting in her bedroom, staring blankly at the window, and wondering whether she was awake or dreaming. About no pay her customary visit to the sick man, she had paused at the door on hearing Severn's voice, and, though she blushed now to thinkofit, had stayed there to listen. She had heard enough to convince her that the foreman was masquerading under an assumed name, and that her patient was an old friend. Helplessly she strove to fathom the meaningofit all, but had to give it up in despair. The one clear point seemed to be that Larry had deceived her, and at the thought of this she melted into angry tears; there seemed to be no one she could trust.

Larry's surmise as to the ownerofthe Bar B was correct--he was sore both in body and mind. Ashamed to show his damaged face, he sulked in the ranch-house, brooding over his defeat. Penton found him so engaged, and there was a flickerofcontempt in the foreman's expression as he listened.

"Cussin' ain't goin' to git us nowhere," he said quietly. "I think I got some news for yu--an' mebbe it ain't good news, neither."

"There ain't no good news nowadays seemin'ly," Bart growled. "Spill it, an' don't take a week."

"We got all the time there is, an' anyways, I ain't shore," Penton returned calmly. "Yu've allus been reckoned more than middlin' swift with a gun, Bart, ain't yu?"

"I never met up with a swifter," the other admitted.

"Till last night, huh?" Penton proceeded. "Severn made yu look slow. But yu wasn't--I never seen yu quicker, an' yet he beat yu to it--easy."

"Well?" said the big man sourly, for he did not relish this rubbing inofhis discomfiture.

"Who cleaned up Tarman's gang over to Hatchett's Folly?" the foreman asked, and Bartholomew straightened up in his chair.

"Sudden," he said. "Yu tellin' me that Severn is--"

"I'm on'y guessin'," Penton broke in. "It sticks in my mind that Sudden's front name turned out to be Donald, an' that young side-kicker o' Severn's called him `Don' that night in the `Come Again'."

The Bar B owner's swarthy face went a shade paler. If his foreman was right, he himself must have stood on the very brinkofthe Valley of Shadows when he had tried to draw on Severn. After the utter destruction of Tarman's bandofrange thieves,* Sudden, the so-called outlaw, had vanished, merged in the personalityofa law-abiding cattleman, but his fame as a fighter was not forgotten.

Bart sat silent, his damaged lips pursed into an ugly pout. When at length he looked up there was dogged determination in his outthrust jaw.

"Sudden or no, he's human, an' I'll get him," he snarled. "If the yarns about him is true, he come mighty near bein' stretched once or twice, an' his luck can't last for ever. Now, see here, keep this notion behind yore teeth; if it gets known in Hope, some o' them cowardly coyotes'll eat outa his hand from sheer funk."

"That's Gawspel truth," Penton agreed. "As for gettin' him, we gotta, or he'll get us. My medicine is a bullet in the back, but mebbe vu has other ideas."

"I gotta card up my sleeve no one else knows f," Bart said. "When the time comes I'll play that same; it's a shore winner, an' will take the pot."

Long after Penton had gone, the rancher sat there, chewing the buttofhis cigar, his forehead ridged in a heavy frown. Despite his boastfulness, his foreman's news had shaken him. But the Lazy M was a prize worth fighting for, and--he hungered for the girl. A curse broke from his lips as he recalled their last meeting.

"I'll have her, willing or unwilling," he grated. "An' as for that damned interloper--"

Big Boy, having zigzagged his pony up the steep, sandy sideofa gully and forced his way through the thick scrub at the top, suddenly pulled up with an oathofastonishment. Five or six hundred yards away on the open range, half a dozen men were leisurely gathering a herdofsteers which he knew to be the property of the Lazy M. He did not recognise the men, but the white handkerchiefs concealing the lower part of their faces told him all that was necessary. He tried to back into the brush unseen, but the vicious humofa bullet past his ear warned him that they had been on the watch. Snatching out his rifle, he dived from the saddle and gained the shelterofa tangled tussockofgrass. He had no sooner accomplished this than there came the thudofa striking slug, followed by the report, and his horse crashed down, quivered and lay still.

Thrusting the muzzleofhis Winchester through the grass, he fired three rapid rounds, and had the satisfaction of seeing oneofthe strangers lurch in his saddle.

"Yu got me, yu coyotes," he snarled, "but I'll shore make yu pay first."

For he knew his situation was hopeless; they could surround and shoot him down at their leisure. To his surprise, however, they seemed more intent on getting the cattle outofrange, and though he fired several times without doing any more damage, no shots came in reply. As quickly as possible, the herd was rounded up and driven off by the horsemen. When the raiders had become a mere blot on the plain, the cowboy arose from his placeofconcealment.

"Well, if that don't beat ice in hell," he ejaculated. He surveyed his dead mount ruefully. "Yu warn't never a prizewinner, old fella, but I'd shore give a coupla months' pay for yu now," he said. "I must be near ten miles from the ranch, cuss the rotten luck ! "

To men who almost live on horseback, walking is an abomination, and the puncher shuddered at the prospectofa longtramp under the blazing sun in his tight high-heeled boots, and carrying a forty-pound saddle in addition to his rifle and other trappings. But it had to be done; the newsofthe robbery must be got to the Lazy M with all speed, and bestowing another hearty curse on those responsible, he set out.

The journey proved to be all he anticipated, and more. The first mile or two brought blisters on his feet, and every step became an agony. The saddle, which for convenience and as a protection from the sun, he carried on his head, seemed to weigh double what he knew it did, and the heavy wooden stirrups banged his body as he staggered over the stretchesofsand and bunch-grass, and every bump brought blasphemy until his parched throat could no longer form the phrases.

Plugging doggedly on, sometimes only at the pace a man could crawl, he estimated he had done half the trip. Then he came upon a little stream, fringed with willows and cottonwoods, and after drinking and refilling his canteen, he flung himself down to rest in the welcome shade. The approachofevening brought relief from the scorching sun, but none for the blistered extremitiesofthe traveller. Staggering, stumbling, and whispering strange oaths, he plodded on, and at last, through the gathering gloom, he glimpsed a light shining amidst the black bulk of buildings. He almost crawled the final few hundred yards, and lurching into the bunkhouse, flung the saddle on the floor and flopped into the nearest chair.

"What yu bin walkin' for?" Linley asked.

"'Cause I ain't got no wings, yu lunkhead," retorted the weary one. "Gimme some grub an' fetch Jim."

Severn heard the story in silence.

"White Masks again, huh?" he said. "An' they took about fifty head?"

"Me an' the little old gun made gettin' more a chancy business," Big Boy explained.

"Wonder they didn't wipe yu out first," Darby said. "They hadn't the guts; I'd 'a' got some of 'em."

Severn shook his head. "I'm guessin' that don't explain it," he said dubiously. "Anyways, we go after them cows at daybreak, an' in case it's a trap, we'll be full strength."

On the eastern horizon, a golden glow which deepened and spread betokened the dawn of another day. Over the plain and foothills a purplish mist hovered, and in the distance, from the peaksofthe Pinnacles, great streamersofvapour drifted across the sky like smoke from mammoth chimney-stacks. The Lazy M was bubbling with excitement. With the exceptionsofLarry and the cook, Severn was taking the whole outfit. He meant to be in a position not only to regain the stolen stock, but to punish the thieves. That he was playing into the handsofhis enemies he had yet to learn.

The most disgruntled man at the ranch was Larry. Long after the departureofthe outfit, he continued to bewail his misfortune, even the presence of his lady failing to console him.

"Cuss this shoulder," he grumbled. "I'm a-missin' all the fun." Instantly from Phil's expression he saw that he had said the wrong thing. "Aw, o' course I don't quite mean that, but--"

"You would rather be riding with the boys," she finished quietly--too quietly, had Larry been versed in the waysofwomen.

Big Boy, who, refreshed by food and a few hours' sleep, had insisted on joining the party, guided them to the spot where he had been so ignominiously "set afoot". They found the carcaseofthe horse, already picked clean, and soon struck the trail of the stolen steers. It led northwards towards the mountains, the first mile or so being over level prairie. Then it turned sharply to the right, taking them into a jumble of tree-clad slopes, gorges scooped out of the living rock, thorny thickets, and little savannahsoflush grass through which the horses waded belly deep.

"They shore wanted a job, takin' cattle through here," old Rayton said. "Must be tryin' to lose 'em."

Severn had already seen that the rustlers were breaking fresh trail; apparently they were not taking the steers to the valley below the Cavern. The fact that they had gone to all this trouble and had made no effort to hide their tracks was giving him uneasiness. He began to wish he had brought only half the outfit, but it was too late now for regrets; he could only go on.

Noon came and went, and then, threading their way through a deep, rocky fissure no more than a dozen yards wide, they heard the bellowofa steer. Severn gave the word for caution, guns were got in readiness, and the party pressed on. The fissure gave way to an open stretchofgrass, walled in by dense, prickly shrub, and in the centre, peacefully browsing, was the stolen herd. Fearing an ambush, the cowboys waited a while, and then Severn, Darby and Big Boy rode into the open. No shots saluted them; the cattle were unattended. Darby looked at his foreman in bewilderment.

"Odd number, this," he said. "They ain't tried to blot their tracks. Looks as if they brought 'em here a-purpose for us to find."

"I'm afraid yo're right, Darby," Severn agreed. "They baited a hook an' I bit it good an' plenty. Why they wanted us outa the way, I dunno, but I'm goin' to see, pronto. Three o' yu will be enough to drive the herd back; the rest will come with me."

Leaving Big Boy and two others to put the cattle on the range again, the foreman and the remainderofthe outfit headed for the Lazy M. Speed was impossible on such a difficult trail, even had their mounts been capableofit, and though no time was wasted, it was nighnfall ere they sighted the ranch buildings. Beyond the fact that no lights were showing, everything seemed to be as usual. They pulled up at the bunkhouse with a shrill whoop, a hint to the cook to get busy, but there was no answer.

"Somethin' wrong here--let's try the house," Severn said and led the way.

The ranch-house was dark and silent. The foreman found the back door unfastened, and striding in was brought to a stop by a muffled groan. He struck a match and saw Jonah, tied to a chair and gagged, gazing at him with goggling eyes in which fear gave way to relief when he recognised the visitor. Severn lighted the lamp, drew his knife and cut away the gag and bonds.

"What the devil's happened?" he asked.

It was some moments before the cook was able to answer, and then his stiffened jaws could only articulate, "Dem White Masks--dey got Miss Phil."

Leaving the others to get the story out of him, Severn sprang up the stairs. In the girl's room he discovered Dinah, tied up and incoherent with fear. Setting her free, he went to seek Larry. He found that young man in like case, save that he was able to express himself and did so with great freedom the moment the gag was removed.

"Yu cuss pretty near like a growed man," his friend said satirically. "S'pose now yu tell us somethin'."

It was not a long story. Early in the afternoon Larry had heard the sound of horses and the mutter of voices outside and had concluded that the outfit had returned sooner than expected. Then his door opened, and insteadofthe pleasant sightofhis young nurse, he saw two masked men, one of whom immediately trained a gun on him while the other tied him up.

"An' with this crippled wing I couldn't do nothin' but say what I thoughtof'em," Larry explained. "I shore did that till they jammed that rag in my mouth. What were they after?"

"The girl, an' they got her," Severn told him, and the sick man's language became more lurid.

"Aw, what's the use--cussin' never cured anythin'," the foreman commented.

"Ain't yu goin' to do nothin' to-night?" his friend asked indignantly.

"Shore thing. I'm goin' to sleep, an' yu better do the same," Severn grinned, and did not wait to hear the commentary.

Going down to the bunkhouse he swallowed a much-neededmeal and retired to his own quarters. Here, he remembered for the first time, that he had not seen anything of Quirt; he called and whistled but the dog seemed to have disappeared. An examinationofhis room showed that it had not been disturbed, and he was forced to the conclusion that the girl was the sole objectofthe raid. What did they want with her? Was the outrage a come-back on the partofShadwell? Only one other man could have any interest in stealing the girl. Had Black Bart carried out the abduction, masking his men to make it appear the workofthe bandits, or--a vague suspicion, born of the chance accusation he had made just before the fight in the "Come Again", and which had been dormant at the backofhis mind ever since, began to obtrude itself.

Chapter XV

DESPITE the strenuous workofthe preceding day, sunrise found the Lazy M outfit busily preparing for whatever task Severn had to set them. The customary airofcare-free gaiety had given place to a grim seriousness, for apart from the fact that their young mistress was very popular, the riders regarded her taking off as a personal insult; they had been made to look foolish, and it rankled.

Therefore they looked closely to their weapons, filled belts with ammunition, carefully picked and saddled their mounts, and waited expectantly for Severn, who had breakfasted in his own shack. Presently he stepped out, and at the same rnoment came a faint bark. Severn turned just as Quirt limped up and dropped panting at his master's feet. Stooping to pat the dog, the foreman saw a glimpse of white in the thick hairofthe animal's neck. It proved to be a twistofpaper, secured by a thin raw-hide thong. Printed in pencil were the words :

"The White Masks have the girl at the Cavern. Hurry.

A FRIEND."

The missive was identical in character with the others he had received and the foreman stared at it in perplexity. Who could the mysterious correspondent be? Certainly not Darby, for he had been with the rest of the outfit all the previous day. Evidently the dog had sneaked after the girl's captors and so provided the sender with a meansofdespatching his message. Severn scratched Quirt's head affectionately."Yu shore pull yore weight in this outfit," he said.

The foreman explained the situation to the men, asking for suggestions.

"What about sending to Hope for the sheriff an' a posse?" offered one.

The foreman shook his head. "Tyler don't like us none," he said. "An', anyways, I figure this is mainly a Lazy M job. I'm proposin' that we head for the XT, get Ridge an' some o' his boys, an' smoke these coyotes outa their holes."

A chorus of "Yo're shoutin' " and "That's the play", showed that this plan of action was fully in accord with the feelingsofthe men, and without further lossoftime a start was made. Larry, whose hurt did not permit him to go, lay fuming helplessly in his room.

"Don't yu worry, boy, we'll get yore Princess," the foreman assured him. "An' make a clean-up, too, while we're about it." Knowing they could get fresh ones at the XT, the rescuers did not spare their mounts, and the trail being an easy one they arrived in good time. The rancher himself welcomed them with a whoop of delight, and when Severn explained the reason for their visit his enthusiasm equalled their own.

"Will we help? Why, yu can't lose us," he boomed. "Kidnappin' folks outa their own homes in broad daylight, eh? Somebody's gotta show these skunks that they don't own the country, I guess. Know anythin' 'bout him?"

He jerked a thumb towards the bench outside the bunkhouse door, where lolled Snap Lunt, his hat pushed back, his bowed legs outstretched, and a cigarette drooping from his thin lips. His eyes met those of the visitor with the stolid immobilityofa redskin.

"One o' yore outfit?" asked Severn.

"Not yet; drifted in 's'morning an' I reckon he's lookin' for a job though he ain't asked for it," the ranchman replied. "What yu think of him?"

"Looks like he'd be useful in a ruckus," the foreman said meaningly. "Them guns he's totin' ain't by no means new."

"Yo're right," Ridge returned. "Well, here's his chance to make good. I'll give him an invite to the dance. Betcha a dollar he ducks."

"It's plain robbery but I'll take yu," Severn said, and smiled when Ridge, having spoken to the little gunman, came back and flipped a coin over to him.

"Glad it warn't more," he said. "Cripes, yu'd 'a' thought I was offerin' him a drink."

Severn grinned at his host. "That warn't a fair bet; that fella's a friend o' mine. He ain't here to be hired, but yu can trust him the limit."

Ridge shook a fist at him. "Yu old pirut, yo're too damned deep for me," he said. "But I'm backin' yore play."

Mounted on fresh horses and reinforced by Ridge, five of his men and Lunt, the expedition set out again, their objective the great tooth in the range beneath which Severn knew the bandits' retreat was situated. The few milesofgrazing were soon covered, and then they reached the foothills and broken country outofwhich the mountains rose. There was little conversation; the difficultiesofthe trail focused the attentionofeach nider upon his mount : a careless step might bring about a catastrophe.

Mile upon mileofthe arduous journey was covered, and afternoon found them amid the pines which clothed the lower slopesofthe mountains.

Presently they emerged from the pines and forcing their way through a dense jungle of undergrowth which covered a long rise, found themselves on the rim-rock of a small basin. In frontofthem the ground dropped sharply down through a belt of scrub to a hollowofrich grass, in the centre of which, gleaming like a gem in the sunlight, was a poolofwater. On the other side the grass sloped gently up to an almost vertical wallofstone, bare of vegetation, ribbed and weather-stained, which, from where they stood, seemed to rise almost unbroken to where it terminated in one of the storm-scarred peaks which gave the range its name. Around the water cattle and horses were grazing, and about eighty feet up the cliff face was the ledge leading to the caves.

"Shore looks peaceful, don't it?" Ridge remarked. "I'll bet them cattle ain't wearin' their lawful labels."

"Diggin' the devils out ain't goin' to be as easy as pullin' a cork," the foreman said. "There may be another way into the caves, but the on'y one I knowofis along the face o' the cliff, an' one man on the ledge could hold it against a score. My idea is this: me an' two-three others will try for the pathway an' the rest'll line up in the brush this side o' the valley an' cover us, droppin' any guy who comes out o' the caves; the range ain't more'n seven hundred."

No one had a better suggestion to offer, and Severn, with Snap, Gentle, and Big Boy--who pleaded a personal debt to pay--rode for the entrance to the valley. Keeping closely under cover, they presently came to the opening through which Severn had been taken before; it was unguarded, and having hidden their mounts they passed through. In the corral they found several horses and turned them loose. Hardly had they commenced the climb up the cliff when two shots rang out in quick succession; they did not come from across the basin.

"That was a warning--they got a lookout posted somewhere," the foreman said.

Evidently the alarm had brought men out of the caves, for puffsofsmoke and sharp reports echoed from the other sideofthe valley; Ridge and his men were getting into the game. The ascentofthe path now became a perilous project, for in places where the cliff bulged the climbers were exposed to fire from the ledge above. The bandits were well awareofthis, and two of them, lying prone on the ground, waited with levelled guns for the appearanceofthe attackers.

"Hug the wall, boys, an' jump lively round these dam curves," were the leader's orders.

With their backs to the rock face, a yard at a time, they crept slowly up the footway, bullets whistling past their ears as they dodged round the dangerous bends. The last of these was only a matteroftwenty yards from the caves, and here they paused, panting, to deliberate. The firing from across the valley had now died away, as though the marksmen had realised the futilityoftrying to hit the flattened figuresofthe defenders. Peeping round the shoulderofrock which sheltered them the foreman saw oneofthe bandits at the top of the pathway cautiously rise to his feet, Instantly, away off in the scrub a rifle spoke, and the man, dropping his own weapon, flung up his arms, staggered, and pitched headlong over the precipice. Severn seized the opportunity.

"Come ahead, boys," he cried. "There's on'y one now."

With the words he dashed round the corner and the others followed. The solitary defender, taken by surprise, fired one wild shot, scrambled upright and ran for the cave, only to drop, a huddled heap, at the entrance. A shout from behind made the foreman turn, and he saw Ridge, with some moreofthe men, climbing the pathway. Keeping well to the sideofthe ledge, he waited for the reinforcement. The entrance to the Cavern, black and forbidding, had yet to be negotiated.

"Thought we'd be more use up here," Ridge panted, as he and his men reached the top. "What's the next move?"

Severn pointed to the opening. "We gotta rush it," he said. "Risky, o' course, but there's no other way."

Bunching together as much out of sight as possible, they edged up to the opening, dashed in and flung themselves flat on the floor. Shafts of flame split the darkness ahead of them and bullets hummed over their heads, but owing to Severn's ruse there were no casualties. Lying prone in the shadows, the attackers returned the fire, aiming at the flashes, and the wallsofthe cave re-echoed the reports. There was the acrid smellofburnt powder and the blue smoke whirled through the opening behind them. How manyofthe bandits were opposing them the besiegers had no means of telling, but that they were falling back or suffering loss was soon shown by the slackeningofthefiring. Severn whispered an order, and his men rose and rushed forward.

Outofthe gloom came spits of fire, and by the momentary light they saw white-swathed faces at which they shot. Oneofthe XT men dropped, and Severn stumbled over a man's body just as a gun barked in his face. Clutching as he fell, he caught the other round the middle and they went down together. The foreman felt two claw-like hands gripping his throat and struck violently with the barrelofhis revolver. He heard the thudofsteel upon bone, a groan, and the choking grip fell away. He staggered to his feet to find that someone had discovered a lantern and that the fight was over. Severalofthe cowboys had been hit, but none seriously. Twoofthe bandits lay dead on the ground, another--Severn's late opponent--was still unconscious; the rest had vanished.

"Get more lights an' search every hole," the foreman ordered. "There must be another way outa this damn warren."

Snap Lunt had also disappeared. At the first gleamofthe lantern he had glimpsed a shadow melting into the dark depths of the cavern and had gone in pursuit. Stumbling along what appeared to be a tunnel, he saw a lineoflight and, feeling above it, discovered a door. It was not fastened, and pushing it ajar he saw a small room, hollowed out of the living rock. On a homemade table in the centre a candle was burning, and by a pallet-bed a man stooped, hurriedly putting together a pack. Snap's eyes gleamed as he stepped noiselessly in, closed the door, and then chuckled aloud. The man's head jerked round, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped; he might have been looking at a ghost.

"Snap?" he gasped.

"Shore thing--the same old Snap," the gunman grated. "Don't bonher about yore pack, Shady; yu won't need it where yo're goin'."

The ruffian gaped, terror patent in his eyes, at this peril from the past which had so suddenly confronted him. One man only in the whole world did he fear and this man was before him; a quick death was the most mercy he could expect. In sudden desperation he swept the candle from the table and jumped aside. Outofthe dark came Snap's jeering voice:

"Panicky, eh, Shady? Well, it gives yu a better chance but it won't save yu. Tell me where the girl is an' mebbe I'll let yu go--this time."

"I'll see yu in hell," came the answer.

"Yeah, but yu'll have to wait for me." Lunt laughed.

The outlaw did not reply, fearing his voice might betray his location, and for a few moments the silence was unbroken. There, in the utter blackness, the two men waited, each intenton the other's life. Both were experienced gun-fighters, and both knew that the slightest slip would mean death. Shadwell stood motionless, half-crouching, his gun levelled from the hip, waiting, listening. Presently he heard a faint sound asofa boot-heel crushing a fragmentofrock and strained his ears in the endeavour to place it. Again it reached him and the thought that his enemy was creeping up made him shiver. Certain that he knew the direction, he fired. The flash showed that he had guessed wrongly--the grinning, vengeful face of the cowboy was well to the leftofthe spot he had aimed at. Ere he could pull the trigger again a spurtofflame stabbed the darkness and his left arm dropped, numbed and useless to his side. The pain of the wound wrenched a groan from his lips.

"Got yore left wing, eh, Shady?" came the mocking voice. "It'll be yore right next, and then--"

The wounded man fired wildly at the sound and flung himself sideways, but no answering bullet came. Had he made a lucky hit? Breathlessly he waited, cowering against the wallofthe cave. His damaged arm throbbed with pain and he could feel the warm blood trickling down. There was a shufflingoffeet outside the door, and a voice called :

"Hey, stranger, yu in there?"

"Yeah. Go away--I'm busy," Lunt replied, and Shadwell shivered, for the tones were not thoseofa stricken man. He heard the departing footsteps of the man outside and they sounded like a death knell; Lunt must be very sure. Again the nerve-wracking silence endured and was becoming unbearable when the cowboy spoke :

"Listen, Shady, I'm agoin' to give yu a chance, which is more'n yu gave Rafe Sanders," he said. "I've found the candle; when I've lighted it, we both go for our guns. What yu say?"

"Good 'nuff," croaked the other, trying to keep the exultation outofhis voice.

He heard Lunt fumbling about, saw the splutter of the match, and forthwith fired. But the match did not waver, a streakofflame spouted from the gunman's right hip, and the bandit crashed forward with a bullet in his brain. For Shad-well's cunning had not been equal to thatofhis opponent. Prepared to cheat, he had reasoned that Snap would strike the match with his right hand, so he aimed to the leftofthe flame. But Lunt had guarded against treachery by snapping the match alight with his left thumbnail well away from his body, the gun in his right ready to shoot. Shadwell had been outplayed and he had paid the penalty. The little gunman lighted the candle and looked contemptuously at the man he had slain.

"Crooked to the end, like I knowed he'd be," he commented. "Well, it's been comin' to yu a long time, Shady."

Having made sure that the man was dead, Snap went in searchofhis companions. He found Severn and the ownerofthe XT at the entrance to the Cavern interrogating the man who had been stunned. He was a surly-looking ruffian and sullenly refused to give any information.

Severn turned away. "If he won't talk, string him up, Ridge," he said shortly. "We got no time to waste on fools."

The possibilityofanything but death had apparently not occurred to nhe captive, but at the foreman's words he looked up. "What was yu askin'?" he growled.

"Where is Miss Masters?" Severn said. "An' come clean, or yu'll die so quick hell won't be ready for yu."

"There was a gal here but they took her on to the other cache," the fellow replied.

"Where's that?" snapped the foreman.

"I dunno--never bin there," the prisoner returned. "I ain't throwed in with this crush long an' wish I'd never seen 'em."

"Who was the boss o' this outfit?" was the next question.

"Can't say. We took orders from a square-set chap by name o' Shadwell," the man answered. "Noneofus knew the others well 'cause mostly we had our mugs draped."

Somehow Severn believed that the outlaw was telling the truth. "Yu can take a hoss an' some grub an' beat it outa the country," he told him. "An' if yu got any regard for yore health, don't dawdle." The man slouched away and Severn turned to Ridge just as Lunt came up. "Someof'em musta got clear---there's a passage out to a ledge higher up the rock face. I'm thinkin' that hombre gave us the straight goods--the girl ain't here."

"Pity we missed that fella Shadwell," Ridge regretted. "We didn't," Snap said grimly, and passed on.

Ridge's glance followed him. "Don't waste no words, does he?" was his remark.

Severn smiled. "Point is, what we goin' to do now?"

"Leave a couple o' chaps to search out this other cache an' hike home," Ridge replied. "Nothin' else to do--yet."

Severn agreed. One cowboy from each outfit remained behind with instructions to comb the country and send word immediately they hit upon the second hide-out. The rest returned to their respective ranches.

Chapter XVI

THE daylight raid on the Lazy M ranch and the carrying offofits young mistress, coming so soon after the impudent despoilingofthe bank, aroused a wave of indignation in Hope, the universal opinion being that it was quite time the bandits were vigorously dealt with. But when the news came that this had been attempted, someofthe inhabitants found offence in that. This singular pointofview originated with the sheriff and was carefully fostered by him. He affected to regard the joint actionofthe two ranches as a direct slight, not only to himself and his office, but to the whole settlement.

Thus vindicated his face wore a smug, satisfied expression when he called at the Bar B the following morning. The big man's welcome was not flattering; he had a wholesome contempt for men who allowed him to use them, and did not always trouble to hide it.

"Yo're lookin' pretty pleased with yoreself this mornin'," he sneered. "What's the glad tidin's?"

"I put a crimp in Mister Severn," the sheriff gloated. "If he's expectin' a pat on the back for tacklin' them outlaws he's due for a disappointment, yu betcha."

"Fine," gibed the other. "That'll scare him most to death, o' course. What do yu reckon he'll do--leave the country?"

The complacency vanished from Tyler's face as though wiped away with a sponge. He wriggled uncomfortably in his seat and did not reply. Having thus reduced him to the stateofmind he required, Bartholomew delivered the next blow.

"Yo're a middlin' pore sheriff, ain't yu?" he began. "How long d'yu reckon yu'd keep yore job if I wasn't back o' yu?"

The visitor's puffy, crimson face took on a purplish tint at this home question.

"I know yu bin a good friend, Bart," he quavered. "I never forget it."

"Yu better not," Bart told him grimly. "I'm about the on'y one yu got. When yu goin' to arrest Severn?"

"Arrest him?" goggled Tyler. "Whaffor?"

"Pickin' flowers outa yore front garden, o' course," the big man said with savage irony. "For the murder o' Philip Masters, to begin with."

"But I ain't got a shred o' evidence," the officer protested.

"No, bein' sheriff, yu wouldn't have--others has to do yore job for yu," Bart retorted. "But yu needn't to worry about that; I've got a-plenty."

"Yu can prove he bumped off Masters?" gasped the astounded sheriff.

Bart nodded triumphantly. "He's as good as hanged," he said. "Climb yore cayuse an' I'll show yu."

Half an hour later they rode into The Sink and turned up the little gully where Bartholomew had happened upon the clothesofthe missing rancher. When they reached the bush which concealed the hiding-place, the Bar B man pointed to it, and said :

"Take a peep for yoreself."

Thrusting aside the foliage the sheriff pulled out the wrinkled garments one by one, examining them closely. When he came to the hat his pig-like eyes widened.

"That's Masters' lid, shore enough--they must be his duds," he said. "Hello, what's this?"

Underneath the clothes, and half-hidden at the bottomofthe crack was a gleam of metal. The sheriff reached down and lifted the object into view--a Winchester repeater. The barrelofthe weapon was foul, not having been cleaned since last fired, and on the stock the initials "J.S." were rudely scratched. At sightofthese Tyler emitted a whoop of exultation.

"Them letters stands for Jim Severn, I reckon," he pronounced, with the airofone who has worked out a difficult problem.

"What a head yu got, Hen," Bart said, in anything but an admiring tone. "Allasame, it's possible they might mean John Smith."

The sheriff looked at him doubtfully. "Yu think it's his gun?" he asked.

"I know it is, yu fool," Bart assured him, and at his meaning look Tyler grinned with understanding. "Now, see here," the rancher continued, "put them things back as they was. I didn't find 'em, remember. Yu an' one o' yore deppities, ridin' through here, will notice the tracks, roller 'em up an' discover the duds. Savvy?"

The sheriff did, plainly enough, and his evil little eyes glittered. This would show some of those cheap-wits in Hope what sortofa sheriff they had. He well knew that his reputation badly needed a tonic, and here it was, "made and provided", like the statutes.

"Yu shorely have got brains, Bart," he said admiringly, as he replaced the articles.

As they turned their horses' heads again towards the Bar B Tyler asked, "Anythin' else to tell me 'bout Severn?"

"Yu can charge him with the bank robbery an' shootin' Rapson," Bartholomew replied coolly, and the sheriff fairly jumped in his saddle.

"Yu can prove that, too?" he cried incredulously.

"There'll be no need--he'll do that for yu hisself," the rancher told him."But I thought--" began the bewildered officer.

"Great mistake. Fella like yu shouldn't think--too big a strain on your intellects," sneered Bart. "Lemme do it for yu, Hen; yu'll find it safer."

The sheriff subsided like a burst bladder. He was well aware that he was wholly at the rnercy of this jeering devil, and must obey blindly, for though he knew a little, and suspected much, Bart had never admitted him to his confidence. He was a mere tool, to be used, rewarded or discarded at his master's whim.

"Whyfor did Severn want to abolish Masters?" he ventured. "I figure him an' Embley are after the Lazy M," Bartholomew explained. "An' with the girl outa the way, there don't seem to be much to stop 'em--barrin' me."

"But the White Masks took the gal an' he tried to git her back," Tyler argued.

"Men wearin' white masks, yu mean, same as when the bank was looted," the other corrected. "First off, I thought he was in with the Pinnacles' gang, but I can see now he's just used 'em. They didn't find the girl, did they? Oh, he's clever, damn him."

"What d'yu reckon they done with her?"

"Planted her, likely as not," lied the Bar B owner. "With noheirs--I never heard Masters mention any family--an' Embleyexecutor o' the will, why, it's pie like mother used to make."

"The Judge has a name for bein' straight," Tyler offered. "The cleverest crook allus has," was Bart's caustic comment. When they parted at the Bar B ranch-house, the owner had afinal word :

"I hear Rapson is better an' is startin' up his bank again. Keep an eye on it; I've a hunch yu'll get yore chance there. Have a coupla yore men allus handy, but don't move till Severn gives yu the invite. I gotta take a little trip an' I'm leavin' this to yu. Bungle it, an' yu an' me take different trails. Savvy?"

The sheriff nodded and went away, the big man's eyes following him contemptuously.

"If I'd 'a' told him it was Sudden he'd gotta arrest he'd be p'intin' for Mexico right now," he soliloquised.

"An' I dunno as I'd blame him much at that," said another voice, and Bartholomew turned to find his foreman.

"Hello, Pent," he greeted. "How'd it go?"

"Easy as takin' a drink," replied Penton. "No trouble a-tall. Yu got the sheriff primed up?"

"Shore, but hang around town in case he wants help," Bart said. "Things is shapin' up right for us, an' I don't want any fool blunders."

**In a rude but strongly-built log shack, hidden in a clump of wind-whipped, stunted pines on the slopesofthe second Pinnacle, was Phil Masters. From the moment when, in the hallway at the Lazy M, masked men had flung a blanket over her head, carried her out and tied her on the backofa horse, her mind had been in a stateofnumbed bewilderment. She was consciousofhaving been jolned about like a helpless sack on the back of a pony through an interminable ride. After the first hour the stifling blanket which muffled her head had been removed and she was able to breathe freely again and look about.

There were four men with her, two riding in front and two behind, well-armed, dressed in ragged range costume and masked. The towering peak far ahead told her that they were pointing for the mysterious region she had once expressed a desire to explore. Her escort took no notice of her, and, if they spoke, did so in whispers she could not hear; it was like riding with the dumb.

Hour after hour they plodded on, and at last, when they were beneath the shadow of the first Pinnacle, a halt was called. The men got down, lifted Phil from her saddle, and the journey was continued on foot up a narrow cliff pathway. She had guessed,ofcourse, that she was in the handsofthe dreaded White Masks, and she now recognised the place from the description Larry had given her. As she toiled up the steep slope she found herself wondering if Severn would come to her rescue.

She spent a sleepless night sitting on a blanket in a black hole adjoining the main cave. In the morning oneofher captors brought bread, bacon and coffee.

"We start in half an hour," he said gruffly.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, but got no answer.

The hot, strong liquid put a little heart into her, but she could not touch the food. Presently the fellow returned and, taking the lantern he had left, motioned her to follow him. Passing through a long, dark tunnel, they climbed a flight of rude steps. Here another man was waiting and, despite her protests, they fastened her wrists together and tied a handkerchief over her eyes. Then came a repetition of the previous day's discomfort. Unable to see the trail ahead, she was entirely at the mercyofher mount, and was jerked and bumped about in the saddle until every bone in her body ached. She had no conception as to where she was being conducted, but she guessed they were still in the mountains, because of the keenness of the morning air and the fact that every slope they descended was followed by a corresponding rise. Greatly to her relief the journey proved shorter than thatofthe day before. It ended at the hut in the pines.

An examinationofher prison promised little prospect of escape. The wallsofstout, untrimmed logs, embedded in a flooroftightly-packed earth, and a massive door secured by a heavy padlock, made the place ideal for the purpose to which it was being put. A mere hole a foot square admitted light and air; from it the prisoner could see only a gloomy curtainofpine branches. The furniture consisted of a pileofspruce tops covered by a dubious blanket, a bench, and a table constructed out of a packing-case which had once contained tinned goods. Phil shuddered as she remembered her own trim little bedroom at the Lazy M. A clang of metal at the door warned her that someone was coming in, and she seated herself on the bench and prepared to present as brave a front as possible. The man who entered was not one of the four who had captured her; he was taller andofslighter build. He did not trouble to remove his slouched hat, and through the slits in his mask she saw ruthless, covetous eyes devouring her.

"Why have I been brought here?" the girl demanded, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.

"Yu'll know that--later," he replied. "All I'm goin' to say now is that yu got one chance, an' on'y one. There's a visitor comin' to see yu an' he'll put a proposition. Agree to that an' yu go free."

"And if I refuse?" Phil inquired, and saw a hateful gleam in his eyes.

"I'm shore hopin' yu will," he chuckled, "for then me an' the boys will have to draw lots to see whichofus yu come an' keep house for--first."

The blood drained from her face as she realised his meaning.

"When is this--visitor--coming?" she asked.

"Oh, he'll be along," the man replied casually, and went out, leaving her a prey to emotions in which fear predominated.

Mingled with it was curiosity as to the identity of the "visitor". This, she decided, must be Severn. All the doubts Bartholomew had instilled came back, and, added to what she herself had discovered, almost convinced her that the foreman, scheming to obtain the Lazy M, was coming to bargain with her. Bitterly she regretted her break with the Bar B owner. Her chief remaining doubt centred about Larry; she could not bring herself to believe that he was in the plot against her.

Consumed with impatience, she disobeyed the injunctionofthe tall outlaw, and was often peeping outofthe apology for a window. But only one man passed, a short, stoutish fellow, under whose pulled-down hat brim she could see a grey beard and the edgeofa black patch which covered one eye. In a flashshe remembered him as the pedesnrian Bartholomew had savagely assaulted in Hope the morning she spoke so plainly. With hunched shoulders he slouched past, not even glancing towards the hut.

Chapter XVII

SOLITARY confinement is the most dreadedofall prison punishments, and after forty-eight hours the girl's nerves were in a pitiable state. During that time she had seen only the man who brought her food, and from him she failed to extract a syllable. Then, on the third morning, when she had almost given up hopeofthe expected visitor, she heard footsteps and the welcome rattleofthe padlock chain. The door opened, and she sprang out with outstretched hands; the man who stood there was Bartholomew.

"You?" she cried. "Oh, thank God ! I was afraid it would be--someone else."

The big man looked down at her, an odd smile on his thin lips; this was a moment for which he had waited long. Perching himself on the makeshift table he rolled a cigarette.

"'Lo, Phil," he said easily. "Pretty mess yu got yoreself into, eh, through trustin' strangers an' turning down old friends."

The girl flushed; she felt the rebuke was merited. "I can't understand it all," she said miserably.

"It's as plain as the biggest kind o' print an' just as I suspected an' warned yu first off," he replied. "Embley an' yore foreman mean to get the Lazy M. These scum here are in Severn's pay an' yu are his prisoner. What he's aimin' to do with yu, I dunno, but my idea is that they mean to force yu to marry that pup, Barton. That'll give 'em yore property, an' if an accident happens to yu--"

He broke off suggestively and the girl gazed at him with horror. "I can't believe that men could be so vile," she faltered.

"Yu don't know 'em, Phil," he assured her. "Mebbe it'll surprise yu to hear that Severn killed yore dad--it's been proved now--robbed the bank an' shot Rapson."

The girl wilted under the blow. She had long given up hopeofseeing her father again, but to learn definitely that he had been wantonly slain was a severe shock.

"An' if I'm figurin' wrong," continued Bart, watching her narrowly, "what's Embley doin' in this camp?""Judge Embley--here?" she cried in amaze.

Bartholomew contented himself with a nod. Phil tried to think, to find some reason for the presence of her father's friend in this den of thieves, but she could not; the Bar B rancher must be right, she concluded.

"But you'll take me away, won't you?" she asked eagerly. "I'm afraid--horribly afraid."

The man's cunning eyes gleamed with satisfaction; this was the frameofmind he wanted her in.

"Can't say as I blame yu," he returned. "As for gettin' yu away, that won't be easy; it'll depend on yu."

"On me?" she queried.

"Shore," Bartholomew smiled. "Now, here's the point : these fellas are tough, but they ain't anxious to tangle with Black Bart. In other words, they won't interfere with anythin' or anybody belongin' to me. Savvy?"

"I'm afraid T don't," she said doubtfully.

"I'm proposin', Phil," he smiled. "Not, I reckon, in the way a girl likes to have it done, but yu gotta admit the position is a mite peculiar. On'y as my wife will these rogues let me take yu away. The Judge is here to tie the knot, an' if Severn's gamblin' on makin' yu marry his sidekicker, won't it be a jar to find yu got a husband already, huh?"

Phil listened with a sinking heart. However guilty the foreman and his friend might be, she did not want to wed Bartholomew. Yet there seemed to be nothing else to do. Slumped against the wall of the hut she strove to compose her thoughts.

"The Judge rnay not be willing," she temporised.

"When I've had a talk with him, I figure he will be," Bart said grimly. "I know more'n he thinks."

The girl closed her eyes wearily, and in sheer desperation was about to consent when a sibilant whisper reached her ears. "He's lyin'. Don't give in; play for time."

Her start of surprise passed unnoticed by the rancher, who was awaiting her answer with a smileofexpectant triumph. Though she had no idea who the mysterious adviser might be, she was ready to clutch at any hope, and the thoughtofa possible friend gave her courage.

"You must let me have time to consider," she said.

The big man's face darkened with disappointment. "We ain't got none to waste," he reminded her. "I took a big risk comin' here, an' to hang about is a bigger one. There's somethin' else I oughta told yu. `Severn' ain't the real name o' yore foreman; he used to be pretty well knowed as `Sudden'. Yu've heard o' him, I guess."

Her face blanched. Sudden, the outlaw! She remembered the tales toldofhis reckless courage, marvellous marksmanship andthe dexterity with which he time after time eluded capture. She did not know that, although ostensibly a hunted criminal, he was actually working on the side of the law, and that the crimes attributed to him were committed by others. Such a man as she conceived Sudden to be might be guilty of any outrage and would show no mercy.

`Well," Bartholomew said, "knowin' that, yu still wantin' time?"

"Don't weaken," came the warning whisper.

"Yes, I musn think," Phil said faintly.

Bartholomew's patience was becoming exhausted; his voice had a very palpable sneer in it as he retorted, "Oughtn't to need much thinkin' about--the choice o' leavin' here as my wife or stayin' to be the playthin' o' these cow thieves." Instantly, by her expression, he saw that he had made a mistake, and hastened to mend it by adding, "I overheard some of 'ern talkin'."

But the damage was done; the fact that he had used the same threat as the outlaw had engendered suspicion in the girl's mind, and Bart's explanation, quick and plausible as it was, did not remove it. So that it was with a frowning face and nothing settled that he left her, with the stated intention of interviewing the Judge.

"An' when I've fixed things with him yu'll have to make up yore mind, Phil," he warned. "I ain't goin' to be fooled with."

He went out and she heard the key grate in the lock. She had but one hope--the unknown whisperer. A scrutinyofthe wall behind her showed that two of the logs did not quite meet, the space enabling the listener to hear and make himself heard. Was it the outlaw trying to trick her into throwing away her chance of escape? She did not think so; the voice had seemed agitated. She could not see through the crack, and, though she waited eagerly, the silence remained unbroken.

Bartholomew had not far to go, a mere twenty paces through the trees brought him to another hut, similar to the one he had just left. Inside this, lolling easily on a bench and puffing a cigarette, he found the Desert Edge jurist. For a moment the prisoner blinked in the sunlight which poured through the door, and then, recognising the visitor, greeted him sardonically.

"Mornin', Bartholomew, have they got you, too?" he asked. "Or are you the chief, by any chance,ofthis collection of gaol-fodder?"

"Wrong both guesses," replied the rancher.

"Ah, well, then I haven't to thank you for my arrival here?" Embley proceeded.

"No, but yu may have to for yore leavin'," Bart told him.

"And the price, Bartholomew?" the Judge queried, his glance measuring the man.

"A small service which'll cost yu nothing," was the reply. "Humph!" commented the old man drily. "I think I'd rather pay cash. And the nature of this--service?"

"Just the marriage service," grinned Bart.

The Judge's eyes widened and he rose with alacrity. "Delighted," he said. "I believe matrimony to be the only risk youhaven't indulged in. Does the ceremony take place at the Bar B?"

"No, here," the rancher replied.

"Well, why not," Embley said lightly. "A wedding and honeymoon in the mountains; most romantic. I must, however, know the lady's name and if she is willing."

"The girl is Phil Masters, an' she is willin'," Bartholomew bluntly told him.

The Judge sat down again. "Miss Masters here?" he said sternly. "What does this mean?"

"It means I'm wise to yore game, Embley, an' I'm goin' to beat it," the Bar B man replied. "Yu got hold o' Masters, framed-up his will, with yoreself as executor, an' put yore man Severn in as foreman. Then Masters disappears an' yu got a free hand. The girl marries the fella you provide an' mebbe she disappears too, an' yu grab the Lazy M. Pretty sound scheme, I gotta hand it yu."

Embley stared at him in blank astonishment. "You have more imagination than I ever gave you credit for, Bartholomew," he said.

The big man took no notice. "The on'y mistake yu made, Judge, was not countin' me in," he continued. "Phil Masters has been promised to me for quite a piece, an' I'm goin' to have her. Yore consent 'pears to be necessary an' we figured the best way to get it was to have yu do the deed."

"So you sent your cut-throats to fetch me, huh?" Embley said.

"I don't own 'em--they was hired for the job," Bart explained, adding darkly : "But I reckon they'll do as I tell 'em." The Judge replied that he hadn't a doubt of it, a remark which deepened the frown on the other's face.

"See here, Judge, there's no sense in travellin' six miles to cover one," he said. "I ain't unreasonable an' I'm makin' yu an offer. Marry me an' Phil, turn Severn down, an' I'll split the Lazy M three ways. What yu say?"

"That you are a precious rascal," Embley answered.

"Yu refusin'?" snarled Bartholomew.

"Did my reply sound like an acceptance?" smiled the old man.

The rancher stood up, his face poisonous with passion, his hand gripping his gun.

"Yo're a damn fool," he cried. "What's to prevent me from blowin' yu apart right now?"

"Several things," laughed the lawyer. "In the first place, you wouldn't get that consent."

"Bah ! Your successor--"

"Would be Governor Bleke, an old friendofmine, who would certainly carry out the instructions I have left," Embley stated coolly. "And he would ask questions, Bartholomew, questions you might find difficult to answer. In the second place, by killing me you put yourself in the powerofthese bandits--a very unwise thing to do; and, in the third place, Severn would shoot you down for the dog you are."

This time it was the Bar B man who laughed.

"He'll have to come back from over the Divide to do it," he jeered. "If the sheriffofHope ain't lost his nerve, Mister Severn is sittin' in a cell about now."

The Judge stood up, the eyes beneath the bushy brows like chilled steel.

"On what charge?" he thundered.

"Just robbin' the bank an' shootin' Rapson, to say nothin' o' murderin' Masters," sneered Bartholomew. "He'll be needin' yore prfessional services, if they ain't tried him 'a' ready."

"Utterly absurd," was the lawyer's comment.

"The evidence don't say so. It'll take a clever fella to get him clear; Tyler's got the deadwood on him, shore thing."

Embley looked at his informant and decided that, for once, the man was not lying. The news had perturbed him and he realised that he was powerless. Bartholomew, guessing what was passing in his mind, tried again.

"Better reconsider that offer o' mine, Embley," he suggested. "It's yore on'y bet."

The Judge looked at him steadily. "Bartholomew, some day I shall sentence you to be hanged," he said.

The quiet conviction in the speaker's voice robbed the wordsofany semblanceofthreat, and, despite his hardihood, the rancher was consciousofa momentary chill; the only effect on his calloused nature was to make him more angry.

"I hold the cards, yu old mule," he said harshly. "I can keep yu here till yu rot." A sudden thought came to him. "Do yu realise what it will mean to the girl if yu don't marry us?"

"Yes," said Embley scornfully. "She will escape a lifeofmisery and degradation."

Bartholomew laughed. "Wrong--that's just what she'll get, for I'll let the White Masks have her," he jeered.

The Judge looked at him with loathing.

"If anything were needed to clinch my decision, you've said it," he replied slowly. "Such a thing as you is complete justification for men like Sudden; they do for the cornmunity what the surgeon does for the human body--cut away poisonous growths."

Hardened as he was, the bitter contempt in the old man's voice seared the rancher like one of his own branding irons. Purple with passion, he struck savagely, hurling his victim against the wall of the cabin, limp, his knees sagging, and the blood trickling down from his cut cheek.

"That's on'y a sample o' what yo're askin' for," he sneered. "Toe the line, Embley, or I'll fix things so that hell will be a welcome change to yu."

He went out, slamming and locking the door, leaving, though he did not know it, a well-nigh despairing prisoner. Embley had kept up a bold front and had no intentionofgiving in, but he could see no gleam of hope. Bartholomew was playing for a big stake, and he well knew the desperate characterofthe man. With Masters dead, Severn in custody, and the girl also in the handsofthe bandits, the Bar B owner did indeed, as he had boasted, hold all the cards.

Chapter XVIII

THE Lazy M outfit was not in its customary happy frameofmind, for it was suffering from a senseoffailure. A crushing blow had been administered to the bandits, but the chief object of the expedition had not been accomplished. The most disgruntled member was the man who had not been able to go. Larry, on his feet again but with one arm in a sling, had made the foreman's life a burden for the first twenty-four hours after the men returned.

"I tell yu we done all we could," Severn told him for about the fiftieth time. "No, I ain't goin' there; I gotta ride to Hope, though I'm admittin' there ain't much difference, an' I don't want no lovesick cripples with me neither."

With which frank expressionofhis sentiments the foreman escaped, got his horse, and rode into town. It was early afternoon when he arrived and the street was empty. The sun was blazing overhead, and he was indulging in pleasant anticipation of a cooling drink at Bent's when he noticed that the bank was open again. Jumping down, he trailed the reinsofhis pony and walked in. The banker was there, looking weak and ill. He greeted Severn with a dubious sortofsmile.

"Glad to see yu back, Mr. Rapson," said the foreman. "Set-tin' up yore game again, eh?"

"Yes, I am having another try," the banker said. "Folks here have been kind--they ain't blaming me. Mr. Bartholomew, for example, he paid in five thousand the day before the robbery and, rightly speaking, I owe him the money, but he won't claim --says he'll take his chanceofthe cash oeing recovered; others have followed his lead."

"Why, that's mighty generous," Severn allowed. "An' mighty clever," he added under his breath. They talked on different topics for a moment or two, and then Severn said, "I was wonderin' if yu'd mind breakin' these up for me. I got some small payments to make."

He produced four one-hundred-dollar bills and pushed them across the counter. Rapson glanced at them and shot a suspicious look at the unconscious cowman. His fingers were trembling as he picked up the notes.

"Certainly, Mr. Severn," he said huskily. "You don't mind if I send my clerk out on an errand first, do you?"

"No hurry," the foreman assured him and rolled a cigarette while the banker consulted a ledger and gave his assistant whispered instructions. When the youth had departed Rapson began to slowly count out smaller notes.

"Nervous as a cat," the customer reflected as he noted the way the man watched the door, and his shaking hands checking and re-checking the little pile of paper. "Well, yu can't wonder." Aloud he said : "Yu got any hope o' tracin' the stolen money?"

"I didn't have much until to-day, but I think now there's a chance," Rapson replied.

He spoke louder and much of his nervousness seerned to have vanished. Hearing footsteps, Severn turned and saw that the sheriff, with his two deputies, had entered the bank. Behind them, framed in the doorway, were several citizens, and others were arriving every moment. He scented trouble. All three officials had their hands in close proximity to their guns, and the expressionofmalignant triumph on the sheriff's features was as plain as print. Twisting half round, so that he faced them, the foreman leaned against the counter, thumbs resting in his belt, and grinned genially.

"Step right up, sheriff, my business is about through," he said.

The officer eyed him malevolently. "Yore business ain't begun," he snarled. "Where'd yu git them notes yu just cashed?"

"Well, I dunno as it's any concern o' yores, but I got 'em here," Severn drawled. "Them notes are part o' the sum I drew out o' the bank the mornin' it was raided. Ain't that so, Rapson?"

The banker shook his head. "Those four notes you handed me just now were part of the stolen money," he stated.

Severn stared at the man in blank amazement; then his eyes chilled, and in a low, even tone, he said :

"I'm supposin' yu've made a mistake, seh."

The banker sensed the menace, but, though his face was deathly white and his lips trembled, he answered without hesitation.

"There can be no mistake. Here is a list of the numbers of the larger notes taken and I gave the sheriff a copyofit after the robbery. You can see for yourself."

He held out the list and the notes. Severn compared them and nodded; the numbers of the notes he had cashed were undoubtedly there. The banker flapped open a book, took a slip of paper and wrote rapidly. When he had finished he passed over the slip.

"There are the numbers of the notes I paid you," he said.

The foreman studied the list and knitted his brows in an effort to solve the mystery. How it had come about was more than he could fathom, but he recognised that the evidence was conclusive and that he was in a very tight corner. Slipping the list into his vest pocket he laughed and looked at Tyler.

'Well, I dunno how yu did it, sheriff, but it shore looks a neat frame-up," Severn said. "I s'pose yo're goin' to charge me with helpin' to loot the bank?"

"Yu betcha--'mong other things. The shootin' o' Rapson for one," snapped the officer.

Severn's features expressed concern. "My gracious, did I shoot yu, Rapson? I'm right sorry."

"An' the murder o' Philip Masters," the sheriff added crushingly.

But the accused declined to be crushed; he only laughed. "Yore memory ain't what it oughta be, Tyler," he quizzed. "Yu've forgotten to put in the assassination o' President Lincoln."

Furious with rage at the laugh which this raised, Tyler started to pull his gun, remembered that this man had easily beaten Bart to the draw, and thought betterofit. But his movement did not pass unnoticed.

"If yo're wantin' a pack o' cards I'll get 'em, Hen," came a sarcastic voice from behind.

The badgered officer darted an angry glance in the directionofthe speaker. "I can do without a pack o' fools anyway," he snorted, and, turning to his two men, he added, "Take his gunsNeither of the deputies betrayed any great eagerness for the task and the puncher smiled.

"Better go slow, sheriff," he warned. "I'm a peaceable man up to a point, an' I got every respect for the law--for the law, I said, sheriff, not for the pin-eyed parasites who sometimes misrepresent it--but I don't like bein' rushed."

"Huh! if I say the word, we can blow yu apart," the officer blustered.

Severn did not seem to change his lolling attitude, yet with a motion that baffled the sight his guns were out levelled from the hips.

"Give yore orders, Tyler--to the undertaker," he mocked.

The blood fled from the sheriff's face and the crowd surged back towards the door, as eager to get out as it had been to enter; the bank had not been built for gun-fights. The man with the drop watched with saturnine amusement.

"No need for panic, gents," he said. "The sheriff an' his deppities will elevate their paws an' hear what I've to say." The command was obeyed without hesitation.

"Yo're resistin' arrest--that constitutes another charge," Tyler protested.

"Well, yu can't hang me but once, which is a consolation when yu come to thinkofit," the puncher grinned. "An' I ain't resistin' anyways, but T gotta little matter to arrange before I accept yore kind invite, sheriff. Yu see, there's no one in charge at the Lazy M an' the boys are liable to paint for war when they hear about this. I want someone to take 'em word from me that they ain't to sit in, an' Judge Embley, at Desert Edge, has to be told; he'll know what to do."

There was a movement near the door and Snap Lunt pushed his way unceremoniously through the onlookers. His face betrayed no recognitionofthe Lazy M foreman.

"I'll take them messages, Mister," he offered. "I was agoin' to Desert Edge anyhow."

"I'm certainly obliged to yu," Severn said gravely.

"Here, I reckon I got a word to say 'bout this," the sheriff interposed.

Lunt looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Yu claimin' to interfere with my movements?" he asked acidly.

Tyler had nothing to say to this challenge and with a gesture of contempt the little gunman headed for the door. He had almost reached it when a foot scraped. Instantly Snap was facing the sheriff, with both guns out and venom in his slitted eyes. A few seconds of blood-chilling silence and then Snap realised that no sinister move was intended; his leathery features wrinkled into a hard grin.

"Sorry folks," he apologised. "My nerves ain't just right these days."

After he had backed through the door and vanished thesheriff gave vent to an audible sighofrelief. Oneofthe deputies expressed the general feeling.

"He oughta get them nerves seen to," he said.

"He'll find thisyer town too hot if he comes any more o' them capers," Tyler growled, his courage returning when the danger was over. "Now, Severn, what's the word?"

The cow-puncher unbuckled his gun-belt and held it out. "Havin' made my arrangements I'm entirely at yore service, sheriff," he mocked. "Yu got the wrong man, but a trifle like that won't worry yu, I'm shore."

The officer did not reply to the insult; this tame surrenderofa man he regarded as desperate and dangerous made him uneasy.