Sudden Law o The Lariat

Chapter XIX

HOPE AGAIN not being sufficiently civilised to boast of a regular gaol, offenders against the law had to be content with a cell, specially constructed for the purpose at the backofthe sheriff's quarters. The walls wereof'dobe, two feet thick with a coreofstout logs, light and ventilation being provided by an unglazed opening a foot square defended by a strong iron bar. This last must have been added for effect, since only a small child could have passed through the aperture. The door was massive, and secured by a heavy lock. A round hole in the upper part enabled the inmateofthe cell to be spied upon. A pallet bed and a bench comprised the furniture.

Severn, having noted these details, rolled a cigarette as well as his bound wrists permitted, lighted it, and gave himself up to meditation.

"I'll begin to believe I did rob the durn bank presently," he muttered.

Painstakingly he turned the matter over in his mind, seeking for some clue that might provide an explanation, and suddenly it came to him. When the bandits had raided the Lazy M and stolen the girl, the money had not been taken, though it was in a place where the most casual search must have unearthed it. At the time it had struck him as curious that such men should forego an opportunity for plunder.

"They rung the changes on me," he soliloquised. "Took my notes an' left stolen ones in their place. But why? Shadwell might a'done it outa spite, but he warn't the sort o' man to passup mostoftwo thousand plunks, an' it wouldn't be his way o' evenin' up."

Though he was satisfied that he had solved the mystery of how the stolen money had come into his possession, he could see no wayofproving it, and as manyofthe inhabitantsofHope had suffered by the bank robbery, he knew his chancesofclearing himself were slim indeed. So far as the murder charge was concerned he did not give that much thought, regarding it as mainly a bluff on the partofTyler. Nevertheless, he did not propose to remain idle; there was a certain evidence he hoped to be able to hand to Embley.

"I gotta get outa this," he muttered, and began to consider how that might be achieved.

Nothing could be done until his hands were free, and he strained at the thongs; they did not yield in the least. Then he tried the knots with his teeth, but the man who had tied them knew his job. An idea occurred to him. Going to the door, he yelled, and immediately oneofthe deputies appeared.

"What's yore trouble?" he growled.

"Thirst," replied the prisoner promptly. "This damned hole is like an oven."

The man grinned and went away, to return presently with a pail of water and a tin dipper, putting them down just inside the door.

"There yu are, an' don't make a beast o' yoreself," he said facetiously.

The prisoner did not reply to this pleasantry, but having made sure that the man was not watching him from the spy-hole, he took a drink, and kneeling down by the bucket, plunged his bound wrists into the water and kept them there. At the endofhalf an hour he had the satisfactionoffinding the rawhide give a little. Working at the bonds and renewing the soaking at intervals, he succeeded after some hours in stretching them sufficiently to slip them off when he wished.

Darkness was drawing on before he made his next move. Tyler, he surmised, would spend his evening, as usual, at the "Come Again" and the two deputies would be left in charge. As the dusk deepened he again began to shout through the door, and the man who had answered the previous summons showed himself.

"What yu belly-achin' about now?" he asked.

"Belly-achin' is right," Severn snorted. "Don't yu feed folks in thisyer Bumptious ho-tel?"

"Damme if I didn't forget about yu," the man chuckled. "See what I can do."

"So will I," murmured the prisoner, and smiled felinely as he slipped his hands free of the bonds.

The deputy returned soon with a hunkofmeat and bread. Unlocking the door, he came in, put the provender on the floor and straightened up.

"Ain't got no cof--" he began.

Before he could finish, Severn leaped forward, his fist shot out and the guard went down under the bitter blow like a poleaxed steer. A few seconds sufficed to tie and gag him.

"Thank the Lord he was totin' his gun," murmured the captive, and making sure that it was loaded, slipped it into the band of his pants and buttoned his vest over it.

He listened at the door but heard nothing--the falling body on the earthen floor had made but little noise--and satisfied that all so far was well, he stepped lightly along the passage which led to the street. As he passed the half-open door of the sheriff's office, a voice called out :

"That yu, Jake? Where yu off to?"

"Back right away," Severn said gruffly.

"Huh! Hen's orders was to stay on the job," said the other.

"To hell with Hen," Severn grunted, edging nearer the exit. "He's stayin' on it hisself, ain't he?"

He did not hear the answer, for the street door was in frontofhim, and in a moment he was outside. Slouching his hat over his eyes, he slid round the cornerofthe first building he came to and picked his way along the backsofthe others. It was darkish now, but there was a moon, and he had to slink quickly from shadow to shadow. Presently he reached the rear of Bent's saloon, and saw what he had hoped to find--the tethered horse he knew the owner usually kept there. He wondered whether Bent's friendship had been strong enough to survive the apparently conclusive evidenceofhis guilt. He believed it would be, but he dared not run the riskofmaking himself known.

"If he ain't changed, he won't mind my borrowin' the cayuse," he reasoned. "If he has, well, I ain't carin'."

Hauling in the picket-rope, he fashioned a hackamore, and without waiting to search for the saddle, mounted the animal and spurred for the nearest cover in the direction of the Bar B. He had just ridden in among the trees when a confused medley of shouts from the buildings behind informed him that his escape had probably been discovered.

Well aware that the regular trails would be searched, he took care to keep clearofthe one to the Bar B, forcing his way through the brush and zigzagging along draws and gullies to avoid showing himself on the skyline. He did not trouble to hide his trail, knowing they could not track him in the night, even with the help of the moon. Beyond a general senseofdirection he had nothing to guide him, and presently, without realisinghow he had come there, he found himself passing the ruined cabin of the nester Forby. The big cottonwood, with the 4 B brand and nhe sinister row of notches, looked eerie in the moonbeams. The Lazy M man gave it but a glance, and was about to ride on when a horseman loped outofthe trees and pulled up with an oath, only a few yards away. It was Penton, and at the sightofSevern, he snatched out his gun and covered him.

"Put 'em up, pronto," he ordered, and laughed in his throat when he saw that the other man was unarmed. "This is yore finish," he continued. "Bart wants to see yu danglin' from that tree, an' so do I. The on'y difference is he's hopin' to string yu up alive an' I ain't pertic'ler, so I'm goin' to shoot yu first. Anythin' to say?"

His face twisned with malignant hate, he leaned forward and menaced the man with his gun, exulting in the power chance had given hirn, and hoping to detect fear in the eyes of his foe. But he saw only an expression of cold contempt, and in stark cruelty he struck savagely with his left fist. The blow was his own undoing. Winh a low snarl, a long, lean, grey shadow shot across the open space and leapt for his throat. The force of the impact flung the man backwards to the ground. Severn seized his chance and slipped from his mount. He was on his feet just as Penton beat off the beast which had thrown him and turned to finish his work. He found the conditions altered; Severn was erect, facing hirn with folded arms and a sneer on his lips.

"Penton, the tree is waiting for yu," he said.

Callous as he was, the threat chilled the man's spine, but he remembered that the speaker was weaponless, and with a laughofscorn he raised his gun. He was actually pressing the trigger when Severn's hand flashed out, fire flamed from it, and Penton reeled and dropped. The grey shadow came up wagging a joyous tail.

He looked at the dog. "Yu shore do pay a debt, don't yu?" he said, and going to where the Bar B man's pony was standing, he lifted the rope from the saddle.

Ten minutes later he was on his way again. He had not gone far when he heard the soundofhofs, and waited, gun drawn. He grinned and concealed it again when he saw the newcomer was Larry.

"How the hell--?" he began.

"Followed the dawg, yu chump," the young man explained impolitely. "Started for town to see yu, an' that four-legged fleabag sneaked after--artful too, didn't show up till it was too late to take him back. When I got to Hope it was just a-hummin'. They're offerin' five hundred bucks for yu, dead or alive."

"That's a right useful sum," the foreman said reflectively.

"Thinkin' o' earnin' it?" Larry quizzed.

"I might be," his friend replied. "Get on with yore recitation."

"Well, I'm ridin' past Bent's--past it, I said," he repeated as he saw the other's grin, "when Quirt goes off like Old Nick was after him. O' course I guessed he'd struck yore trail an' followed. Good thing yu wash sometimes, or the scent would 'a'been that strong T'd 'a'lost him.

"What yu want to see me for?" Severn asked, ignoring for the time the slur on his habits.

"Didn't want to see yu--had to," Larry smiled. "Snap's hoss bruk a leg on the way from Desert Edge, an' he had to hoof it. He was all in when he got to the ranch. I come in to tell yu the Judge ain't there. 'Pears that two-three nights ago, four fellas called to see him an' he rode away with 'em. Hard-looking lot, with their faces pretty well hidden, his landlady said; she didn't know 'em, but she fancied one o' the party had been there before. Embley ain't been heardofsince."

This was bad news for the foreman, but he took the blow with his customary calm.

"So they've got him too," he said. "They ain't overlookin' no bets, I'm tellin' yu."

"Yu ain't tellin' me. Who is `they' an' where have they got him?" Barton asked peevishly.

" `They' is the unknown quantity we're a-lookin' for, an' the Judge is in the Pinnacles with the girl," he was told.

The reminder that the actual whereaboutsofhis lady was yet to be discovered moved Larry to express himself. Severn regarded him sardonically.

"When yu've finished poisonin' the atmosphere, we'll push along," he suggested.

Larry subsided. "Where yu headin' for?" he asked.

The foreman told him, and the boy promptly swore again. "Yu must be loco," he said. "Don't yu know that half the town is spraddled over the country searchin' for yu right now, an' yu make for the very place--"

"Where they wouldn't expect to find me," Severn finished. "Anyways, I'm goin'--I got business there."

"Yu got no business there, an' yu know it," grumbled the other. "Yore on'y business is to be punchin' the breeze for parts unknown. Like as not yu'll find Mister Penton at the Bar B, waitin' for yu with a gun in his paw.

"I guess not," his friend said. "Didn't yu come past the old shack?"

"Nope; heard yu an' took a short cut. Gawd knows yu was makin' noise enough," Larry accused. "What's the shack gotta do with it?"

Severn told him why Penton would not be at the Bar B towelcome thern, and the boy's face hardened to granite as he listened. Then he looked at the dog trotting contentedly beside them, and it sfnened again.

"Good old Quirt," he said. "T take it back; yu ain't no fleabag--yo're folks."

Half an hour later they halted in the brush fifty yards from the Bartholomew ranch. Telling his companion to stay there with the horses and to keep the dog quiet, Severn stole forward. No lights were showing, and as he cat-footed past the bunkhouse, no sound came from within.

"Pretty plain Bart ain't scared o' the White Masks," the intruder smiled to himself.

Though this was his first visit to the place, he guessed that the two windows in the front were probably thoseofthe living-room, and a glance through one of thern told him he was right. Pushing up the sash, which was unfastened, he climbed in and looked round. At one side of the room was a writing-desk littered with books and papers. Hurriedly turning them over, he found what he was looking for--an old account book, one of the numbered pages of which was missing. He then tried the drawers of the desk, and finding one fastened, forced it open with the bladeofhis knife, lately the propertyofPenton. Lying just inside the drawer as though it had been put there in haste, was a rollofnotes. Severn snatched them out, and by the lightofthe moon was able to decipher the numbers; they were the ones he had received frorn Rapson when he withdrew the herd rnoney.

"Yu certainly stacked the cards good, Mister Bartholomew, but the hand ain't played out yet," he soliloquised. "I'm bound to admit yu got somethin' besides sawdust in that ugly head o' yores."

Having methodically searched the rest of the drawers and found nothingofmoment, he rejoined Larry, who was getting impatient.

"Ain't yu fetched the ranch with yu?" he asked. "Yu've been long enough to pack it up."

"Sunset, there's times when yu don't show no more sense than a sage-hen," the foreman reproved. "I got what I wanted, an' here it is."

He produced his plunder, and the boy's eyes opened as Severn explained their significance.

"That means Bart is in cahoots with the White Masks," he said.

"I was hopin' I wouldn't have to tell yu that," the elder man smiled.

"Aw right, Solomon, what's the next move?"

"Climb yore cayuse an' carry these things to Bent; he'll takecareof'em an' have 'em handy when they're wanted. Take Quirt with yu an' keep off the trails."

"What yu aimin' to do?"

"Go back to the sheriff, o' course, to claim than five hundred wheels."

Larry stared at him in doubt, which changed to blank astonishment when he saw that Severn was entirely serious. "Yu are loco," he declared. "Plumb loco."

"I should be if I ran away," the other pointed out. "Why, it would be twin-brother to ownin' up. Even yu oughna be able to see that."

Larry could see it, but he was not going to say so, and he knew that when Severn spoke in that tone it was useless for him to argue. He mounted, called the dog, and turned to depart.

"Yo're every sort of a damn fool, Don," he said. "They'll stretch yu, shore."

"Shucks, I'll dance at yore weddin' yet, yu red-faced little rooster," the foreman replied affectionately, and swinging his horse round, headed for town.

He took his time, for he had no desire to get back before the early morning, and it was necessary to avoid any zealous reward-hunters, for to be ignominiously conducted back to confinement was no part of his plan. So he ambled along by a circuitous route, and a golden glow was spreading in the sky behind the eastern range when he again sighted the unlovely, squalid huddleofhuts which the optimists who dwelt there called "Hope".

Under coverofthe brush, Severn dismounted, turned the horse's head in the directionofthe Bar B, and gave it a vigorous smack on the rump; he knew the beast would drift homewards. He then threw pistol and knife into the undergrowth and made his way to the open street, stopping at the sheriff's quarters. Picking up a lump of rock he hammered upon the door.

"Hello, the house," he shouted.

There was no answer, and he repeated the summons, supplementing it with another tattoo on the woodwork. Tn the still airofthe dawn the noise he made sounded prodigious, and it brought curious heads to windows and doors along the street. It also brought the sheriff. He had not yet slept off his overnight liquor, and stood staring in pop-eyed perplexity at his visitor.

"What yu want?" he asked stupidly.

"Why, to come in, o' course," Severn said, smiling easily. "I'm tired, an' bed listens good to me. Also five hundred dollars. I can use that money. Have yu got it about yu, Sheriff?"

"No, I ain't, an' yu wouldn't git it if I had," Tyler snapped, his muddled brain clearing a little.

By this time the buildings had vomited their occupants, and a goodly crowdofnondescriptly-attired onlookers had assembledto witness the unusual spectacle of a criminal clamouring to be reinstated in his cell. This was what the Lazy M man had played for. He promptly appealed to them.

"What sort of a town is this?" he asked grievedly. "It offers a reward for bringin' in Jim Severn, an' when I fill the bill an' fetch him in, the sheriff renigs. Ain't there no honesty in this burg?"

The twinkling eyes belied the indignant tone, and there was a burst of merriment from the rnercurial citizens, severalofwhom advised Tyler to "pay up an' look pleasant."

"Where yu been then?" Tyler queried.

"Well, I'll tell yu," grinned the prisoner. "Yu see, that hole yu put me into ain't none too well ventilated--yu oughta see to that, sheriff, or yu'll lose custom--an' so I took a walk."

The whimsical explanation, delivered in a drawling, nonchalant voice, tickled the onlookers. The amusement created apprised the sheriff that he was again being made a figureoffun, and as usual, it rendered him furious. Why the accused man had returned he did not know, but here he was, unarmed and helpless. By some miracle, he, Tyler, had been delivered from the wrathofBartholomew. His bullying nature reasserted itself.

"Took a walk, huh?" he sneered. "Well, yu won't take another till yu go to the tree."

"Tried me a'ready, have yu?" Severn asked quietly.

With a gesture of rage, the sheriff turned to his two deputies, who had now appeared.

"Take him in an' tie his hands an' feet this time," he ordered, and beat a retreat, following his prisoner into the building.

"That fella's either loco or not guilty, an' he shore don't appear scatty," was one comment as the spectators dispersed.

Which was the impression the prisoner had aimed to create.

Chapter XX

FOR hours after Bartholomew had left her, Phil sat motionless in dull despair, waiting fearfully for his return. Her world seemed to have tumbled about her, and she could see no gleam of hope. The prospect of marrying the Bar B owner was utterly hateful; even had there been no other reason--and her heart told her different--he had shown too plainly the mannerofman he really was. Only once was the silence disturbed, when the dull reports of two pistol-shots startled her.

The harsh gratingofthe padlock--a now unwelcome sound --reminded her that Bartholomew was coming back for her answer, and she stood up. But insteadofthe bulky frame she expected, she saw that her visitor was the little one-eyed, bearded stranger she had seen in Hope. He beckoned to her.

"C'mon," he said hoarsely, but the girl shrank back.

"Where?" she asked nervously. "Is this a trap?"

"Shore it's a trap an' I'm takin' yu outofit," he retorted. "Glad yu done what I whispered to yu through the logs there."

"So it was you," she breathed, still doubtful.

The man nodded, and noting that yet she hesitated, said quietly, "I'm takin' yu to a friend. If yu'd rather wait for Black Bart--"

"No, no, I'll come with you," she replied hurriedly.

He led the way through the pines to another hut very similar to the one they had left, and unlocking the door, motioned her to enter. Standing facing the door, a look of grim expectancy on his face, was a man she recognised.

"Judge Embley ! " she cried, and her hopes sank again, for she could not forget that this man was Severn's friend, and was, according to Bartholomew, in the plot against her. The Judge's expression changed when he saw who his visitor was.

"So it is you, and not that blackguard from the Bar B," he said. He looked at the one-eyed man. "What's the game, my friend?" he asked.

The man shrugged his shoulders. "No game, Judge," he replied. "I'm willin' to make a dicker with yu." Embley looked his question. "There's a fella here passin' in his checks." He paused as the other nodded understandingly. "No, I didn't shoot him," he continued. "He got his in that ruckus the other day with Severn an' his men at the Cavern. Well, he's somethin' on his mind an' wants to go out with a clean slate. If yu'll come an' write down his statement an' the young lady will witness it, I'll take the both o' yu away from here."

Embley considered only for a moment, and then, "Lead the way," he said.

They followed him out of the pines, across a bare plateau to where stood a larger cabin, sheltered by an overhanging shelf of rock. It consistedoftwo rooms, the second of which, from the piles of blankets, was evidently a sleeping apartment. On twoofthese piles men were lying, one silent and the other moaning feebly. It was to the latter that the one-eyed man conducted them. The Judge looked at the other bed.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"Oh, Slick, actin' boss o' this crew," was the reply. "He's just--sleepin'."

Despite the careless tone, the girl shivered; she rememberedthe shots she had heard. The still figure lying in the shadow looked unnatural, and she could detect no movement. The occupant of the second bed claimed her attention. By the light of the lantern on an up-ended box, she could see that he wasofa type common enough on the frontier, a manofmiddle-age, with coarse, brutal features now somewhat softened by suffering. His tanned, unshaven face seemed to have been drainedofblood, and his eyes had sunk in their sockets. He coughed almost incessantly, and after each bout there was a stainofred on his lips.

"'Lo, Patch," he greeted feebly.

"'Lo, Mobey, how're yu makin' it?" asked the one-eyed man, and without waiting for a reply, continued, "I've fetched the Judge an' the young lady like I prornised." He turned to the lawyer and whispered, "Better get busy, he's down to his last chip "

Embley took paper and pencil from his pocket and motioned the girl to listen. The sick man understood.

"I ain't got much time, Judge, an' I'm puttin' things plain," he began. "Yu'll remember the holdin' up o' the Desert Edge stage some years back, when Tug Satters, the driver, was killed?" The judge nodded. "I was one o' the four what done it, an' I shot Satters," the other went on. "I didn't have no grudge agin him, but when we halted 'em, Tug dropped his lines an' reached back. T thought he was goin' for his gun, an' let drive. I figured after that he just forget to put his paws up an' was feelin' for his baccy, 'cause he hadn't got no gun. Well, I was sorry for Tug, but it was just a mistake, an' it ain't that I'm frettin' about. Here's the real reason I wanted yu, Judge; soon after the robbery I wrote out an' signed a paper sayin' the shootin' was did by another--a fella who warn't in the hold-up a-tall. I had to do it, Judge, or go to the pen myself for-somethin' else."

The weak voice faded out and a violent fitofcoughing shook the man's frame; his fingers gripped the blanket until it seemed the bones must burst the sun-burned skin. When he could speak again it was little more than a whisper.

"The name--I had to put--in that paper was--Philip Masters," he said painfully.

"My father," the girl breathed.

The Judge waved her to silence. Bending forward he said, "And the man who made you write it was--?"

"Bartholomew, o' the Bar B ! " the dying bandit gasped.

Embley saw that the end was near. Hurriedly he read aloud what he had written, and held up by Patch, Mobey scrawled his name on the paper. He watched eagerly while the Judge and the girl did the like, and then with a sighofcontent, dropped back."Bartholomew is--" he began, and said no more.

The lawyer drew the blanket over the face, folded up the paper and bestowed it in his pocket, and turned to the one-eyed man.

"What now?" he asked. "And how are we to name you, my friend?"

"Yu heard what he called me," the other replied with a jerkofhis thumb towards the bed. "That name'll do as well as another."

The Judge glanced again curiously at the other occupied shakedown. "That man sleeps very soundly," he said.

"Yeah, Slick's a good sleeper," Patch replied indifferently, and then, "We gotta be movin'--the other four'll be showin' up any time now, an' they'd make trouble."

"The other four?" Embley queried.

"All that's left o' the White Masks 'cept me--an' Slick," the man explained.

Evidently he had made his preparations, for concealed in the shadow at the endofthe hut they found three horses, saddled and bridled. It was darker now, for the moon was hidden by a big bankofcloud, but there was light enough to show, towering above them, a black bulkofmountain which Phil guessed must be the secondofthe Pinnacles. Their guide, however, gave them little time to study the scenery.

"Gotta hurry," he said in his curious gruff voice. "There's on'y one trail for the first few miles."

When they were mounted he went ahead, the girl following, and Embley bringing up the rear. The pathway, for it was nothing more, led along the faceofthe mountain. The girl shuddered as she remembered that she must have ridden this route blindfold.

Her mind, however, was too full to dwell long even on present danger. The dead bandit's revelation had made it clear why her father had hated and yet suffered Bartholomew, but it did not explain the mysteryofhis disappearance, and it left her still guessing as to Severn. And the queer little outlaw who for no apparent reason was effecting their escape, what part did he play in this tangled web of intrigue and crime? Silently, slumped forward in his saddle, he paced aheadofher, for the road was too narrow and rough to permit more than a walking gait.

They had been riding for more than an hour, a long, gradual descent, when the leader turned off the trail into a little forestofpines, halted and got down.

"Heard somethin'--goin' to scout a few," he said laconically. "Stay here, an' keep quiet."

Without waiting for any reply, he climbed back up the waythey had come and vanished in the gloom. The girl edged her horse over to Embley.

"Do you think he is to be trusted?" she whispered.

"I believe so, and he's our only chance," the Judge replied. "Personally, I am prepared to take any risk to reach Hope in time to foil that scoundrel Bartholomew. If they hang Severn--"

The returnofthe outlaw put an end to the conversation. He was hurrying, and it was evident he brought news.

"They're a-comin'--musta got back sooner," he panted, flinging himself into the saddle. "No use tryin' to hide--they know this country like yu do yore own doorstep. We'll have to stand 'em off; there's a Winchester on yore saddle, Judge, an' I know a good place."

Leaving the trees, they followed him at a gallop across an open space of perhaps a quarter of a mile, and pulled up at the foot of a tall bluff where a numberoffallen fragments from the cliff above offered a rough rampart. Tying the horses behind the biggest of the boulders, and finding Phil a safe position, the two men lay down, rifles ready.

"Cuss that moon," muttered the little man, for the clouds had passed.

"It'll help us more than them," the Judge pointed out. "They can't rush us."

"Shore, but we can't sneak away," the other argued. "There they are. What's the idea?"

"Flagoftruce--they want to talk."

Four riders had emerged from the pines, and oneofthem, aheadofthe rest, was waving a white scarf. They came boldly on until they were some two hundred yards away, and then Patch stood up.

"That'll be near enough," he called out. "Anythin' on yore mind?"

"What's the idea, Patch, runnin' off the prisoners thisaway?" the leader asked.

"I got my reasons but I ain't explainin' to yu," the one-eyed man replied coolly. "I'll give yu a bit of advice, though; light a shuck an' get outa the country while the goin's good."

The outlaw laughed. "Feelin' yore oats some, ain't yu?" he sneered. "We'll go when we're good an' ready, but first we want the gal an' the Judge."

"Come an' get 'em," retorted the little man.

"No need to take risks," the other pointed out. "Yu can't git away. All we gotta do is wait till help comes; we've sent for it."

"Who'd yu send--Slick?" Patch asked, and chuckled when he heard the curse the question provoked."Well, what yu goin' to do?" the bandit queried.

"Shoot if yu don't show yore tail mighty sudden," snapped out the one-eyed man, standing clear and levelling his rifle.

With a furious gesture the fellow wheeled his horse, and at the same moment came three spurtsofflame from behind him. Patch regained his shelter untouched, he and the Judge sending shots in return. Apparently they met with no success, for they saw the attackers vanish into the gloomofthe pines. For some time silence reigned.

"All bluff about sendin' for help," Patch remarked. "They ain't got no one to send. Betcher they try an' Injun up on us; there's a cloud a-comin' now."

He was right. In a few moments a veil of vapour misted the moon. Peering through the uncertain light, Patch fancied he could see a dark blotch moving laboriously over the grass. Carefully taking aim, he fired; the blotch seemed to give a spasmodic jerk and then subside. The next moment a loop dropped over his arms and he was flung violently backwards, his gun clattering on the stones beside him. Dazed by the fall, he felt the rope twisted about him; a few turns and he was powerless. A glance showed that his companions were in no better case. Bitterly he realised that the attackers had outwitted him. While oneofthem sneaked up in front, the other three had crept around the open space and come upon them from the rear. The man who had borne the flagoftruce was regarding him with an ugly look.

"Well, Patch, yo're goin' to learn it don't pay to renig," he said.

He drew his pistol on the prostrate prisoner. In another second the bullet would have sped, but a cool, rasping voice intervened:

"'Scuse me, gents, but is this a private scrap, or can anybody horn in?" it said.

The startled outlaws looked up to find the tables turned; two strangers, who had stolen up unperceived, were covering them with levelled pistols.

"Shootin' a man when yu got him hog-tied don't appeal none to me," the newcomer continued. "Reach for the sky, yu coyotes."

Two of the bandits promptly obeyed, but the would-be slayerofPatch, who had his gun out, took a chance and turned it on the stranger. But he was not quick enough; the other's gun crashed and the outlaw went down, sprawling grotesquely. One glance showed that he was dead, and the man who had fired the shot nodded his satisfaction. He then stepped over to the girl.

"Well, Miss Phil, so we've found yu at last," he said.

She gave a cryofjoy. "Why, Rayton, how do you happen to be here?" she asked.

"Severn left me an' Purdyofthe XT to comb the Pinnacles after we failed to find yu at the Cavern," the cowboy explained. "We was shore gettin' disheartened when we heard the shootin' an' p'inted for it." He looked at Embley. "Burn my hide, if it ain't the Judge ! "

In as few words as possible the lawyer outlined the position. The cowboy bit on an oath when he learnedofSevern's danger. "What we better do?" he asked in perplexity.

"We must get out of the mountains as quickly as we can," the Judge said. "Then Miss Masters, myself and this fellow Patch will head for Hope, while you and the XT man will collect your outfits and follow us. We may be in time."

Patch was released, and the other two men were set adrift, unarmed, with the plain intimation that if they remained in the country they would be shot on sight. The journey to the plains was then resumed. The Judge rode in silence, his head down, and was impatientofthe slightest delay. Phil realised that this was due to his anxiety for Severn's safety, and it impressed her. Only once she summoned the courage to ask him a question.

"Is it true that Severn was once known as Sudden, the outlaw?"

"Yes, but he was not an outlaw, he was a deputy-sheriff in the employofthe Governor," the Judge told her. "You don't like Severn, but one day T hope you'll know him better, and realise --what you owe him."

The old man's voice was rather stern and contained more than a hintofreprof. She said no more.

Chapter XXI

ON the morningofSevern's dramatic return to captivity, the town seethed with excitement. This state of affairs provided material for thought of someofthe citizens.

"Suthin's goin' on," Bent remarked to Callahan. "There's men spendin' money on licker that never had none to spend afore, an' I got Greasers at my bar now that I'd 'a' throwed out on their ears yestiddy, knowin' they couldn't pay."

"What possessed Severn to come trapesin back?" asked the storekeeper.

"He's one square fella--he wouldn't run away," Bent told him. "Trouble is, he won't git a straight deal."

"True for ye. Kape an eye on the store while I step up to the `Come Again' an' find out about Lufton."

As the storekeeper went along the street, the signsofunrest were apparent. Little groupsofmen were dotted about arguing, gesticulating, and the grimnessoftheir faces conveyed an atmosphere of menace. He noticed that the nucleusofnearly every gathering consisted of one or two of the Bar B punchers.

"Bart's workin' the town up, an' for what?" he asked himself.

Passing through nhe swing-doorsofthe saloon, he found that rumour for once had spoken truly. At a table in a far corner, apart from the sullen, threatening customers who crowded the bar, Black Bart was entertaining a visitor. This was a thin, shambling figureofa man approaching fifty, dressed in a shiny black coat, trousers stuffed into boot-tops, a collar far from clean, and a cravat which bore abundant evidenceofhaving been too often tied by stumbling fingers. The puffy face, receding jaw, and vacillating eyes told their own story. This was Judge Luf ton, who had obtained office by political wire-pulling, and in spiteofcertain lapses, had hitherto managed to hold it by the same means. Had Callahan been able to hear their conversation, he would have found the answer to his question.

"Yu've happened along just hunky, Judge," Bart was saying, as he filled the visitor's glass. "Yo're the man this town's needin' bad right now."

The manoflaw straightened up in his chair. "As an unworthy servantofthe public, Mr. Bartholomew, I am at the disposalofthe citizens," he said unctuously. "In what way--?"

"There's a criminal in the calaboose here waitin' to be tried," Bart told him. "He's a desperate character--got away last night, but was recaptured by the sheriff." The lie slipped easily from his lips.

"What is the offence?" Lufton inquired.

"He robbed the bank here, shot the manager, an' murdered an old friend o' mine," the Bar B owner returned coolly. "If that ain't enough, there's other charges."

"Providence having given us only one neck apiece, I should say it was more than enough," the Judge said, with ponderous humour. "Why don't you send him to the capital?"

"To escape on the way, or get off with a packed jury 'cause he's got a pull somewheres, huh?" Bart retorted. "No, sir, this town can do its own tryin'. As I told yu, the fella's a hard case. Mebbe it'll surprise yu to hear he's the chap as used to be known as Sudden, the outlaw."

The Judge was surprised; his vacuous eyes opened. "But if I remember rightly, Sudden was supposed to have been in the employ of the Governor," he remarked.

"There yu are," Bartholomew said triumphantly. "That was the excuse for lettin' him off; yu see, he has got a pull."

"If he's still got it--" Lufton began dubiously.

"He ain't," the rancher cut in. "An' the cases against him are plain open an' shut this time. Besides, all yu gotta do is try the fella; the jury finds the verdict. Once that's given, what happens ain't no business o' yourn."

There was a sinister suggestion in the last words which made the other man look up apprehensively.

"You mustn't forget that I represent the law, Mr. Bartholomew," he pointed out, with a rather ludicrous attempt at dignity.

"Ain't that the very reason I'm askin' yu to take charge?" the big man retorted. "Now, see here, Judge; the folks in thisyer town are gettin' all het up over this case--mostof'em lost money m the robbery, an' the fella as was rubbed out was plenty popular. I've got 'em millin' as yet, but if they stampede there'll be a neck-tie party shore as yo're born, an' that won't look too good with a reg'ler judge in the town who might 'a' given the accused a fair trial an' done things legal."

Lufton emptied his glass, replenishing it with a shaky hand. He had experienceofthe West, had seen mob law at work, and knew that in the stateoftension the town was now in, a spark would cause an explosion. Surely, in the interestoflaw and order, it was his duty to step in and see justice meted out to the malefactor. Bartholomew's next remark decided him.

"There'll be a fee o' two hundred dollars," he said. "Course, if yu'd rather we waited for Embley ..."

Lufton winced like a spurred horse; he hated the Desert Edge jurist, a factofwhich Bartholomew was well aware.

"No need for that," he said. "I'll take the case."

"Good for yu," Bartholomew smiled. "I don't mind admittin' that I'm glad. Embley ain't popular round here, he's a pal o' the prisoner, an' there's more than a suspicion that he's in cahoots with him to grab the murdered man's property."

Lufton's eyes gleamed evilly. "Shouldn't be surprised," he sneered. "There's usually mud at the bottom o' still water. When yu startin' the trial?"

"Half an hour's time," replied the rancher. "No sense in waitin', an' it wouldn't be safe anyways. I'll tell Muger to get this place cleared for it."

The news that the accused was to be tried at once by Judge Lufton spread like wildfire through the town, and the general feeling was oneofsatisfaction. Never before had Hope Again enjoyed such a sensation. Killings, followed by summary justice were not unknown, but a regular trial by an official judge was a novelty, and the "Come Again" soon bore witness to the fact. Indeference to Lufton's position, some endeavour was made to give the room a court-like appearance. The judge's bench was represented by a table, with seats on either side for the more important citizens. Twelve chairs were arranged for the jury, another for the sheriff. Immediately in frontofthe Judge were three more chairs, the middle one for the prisoner, and the others for the deputies guarding him; this was the dock. The onlookers perched themselves on such support as they could find, or lolled against the walls.

Severn's first intimation that he was to be put on his trial immediately came from the deputy, Jake, whom he had treated so unceremoniously the night before. The man appeared to bear no malice, for he grinned cheerfully through the spyhole as he said :

"Better be gittin' ready to speak yore piece, Severn; the Judge'll be wantin' yu at the court mighty soon."

"Has Embley turned up, then?" asked the prisoner.

"Now, Lufton's goin' to try yu, an' I'm bound to say it's mean luck he should happen along. If yu got any argyments yu better think 'em up, for yu'll need some."

The voice of the other deputy broke in. "Fetch him along--just got word he's needed."

"There, I've done wasted yore time," Jake said regretfully. "Yu'll have to think up suthin' on the way."

Certainly the prisoner had plenty to occupy his mind as, with an armed deputy on either side, he paced up the street. Calculating his chances the night before, he had come to the conclusion that apart from a possibilityofbeing lynched, he was in no immediate danger; einher he would be tried in Hope by Judge Embley, or sent to the capital. The advent of a strange and possibly hostile judge was, as he had to admit, "a hossofa different brand," and this indecent haste to bring him to account looked ominous. He wished now that he had not ordered his outfit to keep away from Hope; if it came to the worst ...

The entry of the accused increased the buzzofconversation in the crowded court-room. With calm confidence he walked to the dock, took off his hat, and sat down. His bonds had been removed, but the deputies drew their guns as they sat beside him. There was a suspicion of a smile on Severn's face as he noted the precaution. He looked at the Judge, then the jury--which had already been empanelled--and realised that he stood no chance; the twelve "good men and true" were all supportersofBartholomew, and had been chosen for that reason. His steady eyes swept the audience. He saw Bent, Callahan and Larry, and was searching for Lunt when the little gunman entered, followed by four of the Bar B outfit. His face told Severn a story.

"Snap's killin' mad," he concluded. "Reckon when he heard o' this he started to fetch the boys, an' them four jaspers held him up an' are ridin' herd on him. Bart don't want no interference."

Lounging in a chair by the side of the Judge, with Martin, and several of his men, Bartholomew could not keep the gloating satisfaction out of his eyes. Nevertheless, from time to time he glanced expectantly at the door, and the prisoner smiled grimly --Bartholomew was wondering what had become of his foreman. A rap on the judge's table stopped the humofconversation.

"Well, sheriff, what is the charge against the prisoner?" Lufton asked.

Tyler rose, puffing out his chest in a hopeless attempt to appear dignified. The sheriff was very satisfied with himself. "There's a right smart o' charges, Judge," he stated. "Attemptin' to kill Mister Martin here, robbin' the bank an' shootin' the manager, murderin' Philip Masters, breakin' gaol--"

"Well, well, I reckon that'll do to go on with," Lufton interrupted. "We'll take the bank robbery and the murder. If he's guiltyofthem we can let him off the rest."

The bitter witticism sent a rippleofmerriment round the room, and the makerofit permitted himself a thin-lipped smile. "The court will deal with the robbery first," he decided. "Call your evidence, sheriff."

Rapson, the banker, stepped forward and gave his accountofthe raid. Questioned by the Judge, he admitted that the robbers' faces were so hidden that he could not see them, but in clothes, height and build the man who shot at him might have been the accused. Further, Severn had drawn out his money just before the robbery took place, and the notes handed to him did not include those he was trying to cash when arrested, which were partofthe plunder. Lufton looked severely at the prisoner.

"You want to put any questions?" he asked.

Severn stood up. "Shore," he said, and turned to the witness. "Yu certain the man who downed yu was not smaller than me?"

"Quite," returned the banker. "Looking at you now I have an impression he was even bigger."

Severn nodded. "So that, as yu couldn't see his face, it might 'a' been any fella as big as me, or a bit bigger." His eyes roamed round the room. "Mister Bartholomew, for example?"

The witness protested volubly. The suggestion was absurd. Mr. Bartholomew had been most kind, and he had five thousand dollars deposited in the bank.

"Which he wouldn't lose if he robbed yu," Severn pointedout. "An' if I was goin' to, why should I trouble to draw my money?"

"Why did you?" asked the Judge.

The foreman explained, handing up the warning he had received. Lufton glanced at it superciliously and passed it to the jury. They scanned it in turn, and then one of them remarked sourly :

"Yu kept this mighty dark, didn't yu?"

Bent jumped up. "Severn showed it to me an' Ridge of the XT," he volunteered. "We didn't know what was back of it any more than he did, but we both drawed our balances out. Anybody think we done the robbery?"

"Nobody's suggesting that anyone but the accused did the stealing, sir," remarked the Judge.

Though this pompous remark may have impressed someofthe audience, it only drew an impudent grin from the prisoner. "That's where yo're wrong, Judge," he said. "I'm suggestin' that the rnan sittin' beside yu, Bartholomew, oughta be standin' here instead o' me, an' I've got evidence to prove it."

A shuffling of feet and craningofnecks proclaimed the sensation this statement evoked. In response to a nod from Severn, the saloon-keeper handed to him the book and notes taken from the Bar B ranch. Bartholomew answered the accusation with a scornful laugh.

"Trot out yore proof," he cried.

Severn held up the account book. "That yores?" he asked.

The rancher stared surprisedly. "I reckon it is, though howyu--"

"The writin' in it would be yores, too?"

"O' course. What's that gotta do with it?"

"I'm tellin' yu. When the White Masks run off one o' my outfit, they left a notice behind sayin' what I had to do to get him back. Here's the notice, an' it's written on a page taken outa that book, as yu can see by the number on it, an' the handwritin' is the same."

There was hardly a sound in the room as he passed the book and the paper up to the Judge, who examined them and looked inquiringly at Bartholomew. The rancher, who had been doing some quick thinking, had his reply ready.

"I missed that book 'bout a month or so ago," he began. "I reckon it was stole by a fella named Darby who had a grudge against me, an' is now ridin' for the Lazy M. The writin' is a pretty good imitation o' mine."

"Which yu didn't recognise when I showed yu the notice at the time I brought Shadwell in," Severn reminded him. "Bah ! I scarcely looked at it," Bartholomew lied.

"As for the book bein' stole, that's correct; I took it from theBar B ranch-house last night--there's another charge for yu, sheriff," pursued the prisoner smilingly. "An' at the same time, in a locked drawer o' yore desk, Bartholomew, I found these. Rapson will tell us what they are."

He handed the rollofbills to the banker, who compared them winh a list he took from his pocket. "I paid these to the prisoner when he drew out his money," Rapson said.

Bartholomew and the Judge were whispering together. Then the latter looked at the prisoner.

"Well," he sneered. "What's your point?"

Severn saw that he was fighting a hopeless battle, but it was not in the man's nature to give in.

"It oughtn't to need explainin'," he said acidly. "That book an' the notice prove that Bartholomew is chief o' the White Masks. When they raided the Lazy M an' abducted Miss Masters, they took my bills an' substituted stolen ones to implicate me. I might as well add, Judge, that I broke outa gaol to get them things, an' T returned o' my own free will." A whimsical smile hovered on his lips. "I had to make a devilofa row to get back into gaol again."

Some of the spectators, remembering the sceneofthe morning, guffawed at the recollection. Bartholomew leant back in his chair and also laughed.

"Mighty smart, Severn," he said. "Yu oughta be writin' books, not stealin' 'em." He looked round the room. "Well, boys, yu better take an' string me up for collarin' my own coin."

The Judge, jury and a number of those present smiled widely at the joke, but there were some who looked dubious. Bartholomew evidently noticed this, for he directed a meaning glance at the jury, and immediately Muger, who was acting as foreman, spoke.

"See here, Judge," he said. "All this jaw ain't gettin' us nowhere. The jury don't want to hear no more about the robbery; this fella's found with the goods on him; it's an open an' shut case."

"If you have come to a decision on that charge, gentlemen, we can get on with the murder," Lufton said.

"Whose murder--mine?" asked Severn sarcastically. "It amounts to that, yu know, because the man who could prove I had nothin' to gain by Masters' death ain't here. I mean Judge Embley."

"He is under grave suspicionofbeing your accomplice," Lufton said severely. "And the fact that he is not to be found bears it out. He got you your present job?"

"It was through him I met Masters," Severn admitted.

"And soon after you go to the Lazy M, your employer disappears," the Judge went on. "How did you get the rifle he was known to have taken with him?"

If he had hoped the abrupt question would discompose the accused he was disappointed; Severn told a plain storyofthe slayingofIgnacio and the findingofthe weapon.

"An' that's a lie!" Barnholomew burst out. "Ignacio was heard of in Mexico a few weeks back, as my foreman, Penton, can testify."

The prisoner smiled grimly; he had his doubts about that. Again he produced a slipofpaper. "Here's somethin' else I found on the Greaser," he said. "Yu'll notice it's another imitation o' Bartholomew's penmanship."

The Judge gave it a casual glance, and then for a moment his eyes met those of the Bar B owner meaningly.

"You seem fond of writing," he said. "Did yu tell anyone about the gun?"

"On'y Miss Masters," was the reply.

"And she's missing, too; all the people who might corroborate your statements appear to be," Lufton commented cuttingly. "Any more evidence, sheriff?"

This was Tyler's great moment, and he prepared to make the most of it. Snrutting forward, he told how he and his deputy, Jake, riding through The Sink, had noticed tracks, followed them up, and found the missing rancher's clothes. One by one he produced the garments, handing them to the Judge.

"An' underneath 'em we found this," he finished. "Yu'll see it's got the prisoner's initials on it."

Tense silence reigned as nhe weapon was passed first to the Judge and then, at his direction, to the accused man who examined it curiously.

"Is that yours?" came the question.

"Yeah, it was taken frorn me by the White Masks," the puncher replied without hesitation. "But it didn't have them letters on it then. Yu don't print as well as yu write, Bartholomew."

"Pretty good at findin' answers, ain't he?" the Bar B cattleman mocked, and the jury, at whom the remark was directed, smiled in agreement.

Bent stepped forward and held up a hand. "'Scuse me, Judge, I'm puttin' in a protest that thisyer trial ain't reg'ler," he said. "It's bin rushed an' the accused ain't had no chanct to prepare a defence or git his witnesses. The prosecution ain't proved any motive for his bumping off Masters, an' the evidence makes him out a plain dam fool, which every man here knows he ain't. He tries to cash bills at the bank he stole 'em from, an' he hides the clothes o' the fella he murdered an' leaves his gunwith his initials on with 'em. I put it to the jury, does the prisoner look plumb loco?"

Lufton's smile was oily as he replied to this appeal.

"Mister Bent, as a friend of the accused, has to raise objections," he explained to the jury. "What he does not realise is that clever criminals get over-confident and make mistakes. As for motive, the court knows that the murder was partofa deep plot to obtain the dead man's property." He looked craftily at the twelve citizens. "If more evidence is required--" Muger shook his head. "Very well, gentlemen, you may retire and consider your verdict."

Then Bartholomew flung his bombshell.

"I reckon the jury oughta know, Judge, that this fella who's been masqueradin' here under the name o' Severn, used to be better knowed as Sudden, the outlaw," he rasped out, with a vindictive glare in the directionofthe dock.

The whistleofindrawn breath and a medleyofejaculations greeted the announcement, and every man in the room pressed forward to get a good look at the famous gunman, as though they were seeing him for the first time. Excited whispers passed from mouth to mouth as storiesofhis exploits were recalled. Given his guns, he might have walked outofthe court unhurt, such had been his repute, but lacking them ... In the midstofit all, the man himself sat, his face a mask of immobility, his eyes coolly contemplating the men who were to decide whether he lived or died. The low buzzofconversation and the scrapingofshifted feet on the sanded floor ceased when Muger, who had been whispering to his men, stood up.

"There ain't no need to retire, Judge," he stated. "We're all agreed."

"And your verdict is?"

"Guilty as hell."

The Judge turned his gaze upon the accused. "You have heard the jury's decision," he said. "Anything to say?"

Severn's narrowed eyes were coldly contemptuous. "I reckon yore reputation flatters yu, seh," he drawled.

The gibe penetrated even Lufton's tough hide. His yellow, pasty face took on a crimson tint, and his thin lips contorted into an ugly snarl.

"You have been rightly found guiltyofthe crimes charged against you," he said. "It only remains for me to pronounce the penalty, which is, that you be hanged by the neck till you are dead." He turned to Tyler. "Sheriff, you will see to it that the prisoner is conducted to the capital, where the sentence will be carried out."

The harsh voice, with its travestyofjudicial gravity, could not conceal the speaker's inward satisfaction; he almost seemedto exult in the power that enabled him to send a younger man than himself to his deanh. Having thus cunningly evaded all responsibility for what he knew was about to happen, he leant back in his chair and lit a cigar. For a moment there was silence, and then the rneaning of the Judge's pronouncement dawned upon the assembly. A hoarse, murmuring growl like that of a savage beast deprivedofits prey rumbled through the room. Mad Marnin leapt upon a chair.

"To hell winh sendin' him to the capital ! " he shouted. "He's mebbe got a pull there; that's how he got off afore. T'm sayin' this town's got ropes an' trees enough to do its own hangin'."

"That's the talk," said another, and instantly the cry was taken up from all parts of the court-room. Bartholomew was silent, a smile of sardonic satisfaction on his cruel lips. The Judge rapped on his table and managed to get a hearing.

"Sheriff, I shall hold you responsible for seeing that the law is observed," he warned.

Again the uproar broke out, and the sheriff, his recently-acquired self-esteem all gone, might easily have been mistaken for the condemned man, so woeful did he appear. He looked appealingly at Bartholomew, but the big man shook his head and laughed.

"It's yore job, sheriff," he said.

"Ropes an' horses," Martin yelled. "Fetch him along, boys."

A rush was made, and despite the fact that a numberofthe more moderane citizens strove to help them, the sheriff and his deputies were brushed aside like flies, and the prisoner was hustled out into the open street.

"Where now?" asked a dozen.

"Take him to Forby's--the ghost there must be gittin' lonesome," Martin cried, and the suggestion was adopted with a shout of approval.

On the back of a horse, with the loop of a lariat round his neck, and surrounded by men with drawn guns, Severn began what he did not doubt was his last ride, for the levity and rough humour, typical of a Western mob, was no indication that the grim programme would not be carried out. These men were primitive; their reasoning was crude; they saw only the obvious. Bartholomew had money in the bank, therefore he would not rob it; Severn's gun found with the clothes was to them conclusive proof that he had murdered the missing man. The temperate citizens, who might have considered the more subtle evidence produced, were carried away by the turbulent faction.

To a man, all who had been in the court-room joined the procession. Bartholomew rode with the sheriff and Lufton, the latter knowing that to save his own face he must protest to the end.

The condemned man's features were as impassive as a statue's. He had played, lost, and must pay, though the cards had been stacked against him. Like most menofhis type, Severn was somenhingofa fatalist. A violent end was an ever-present possibility, and it was partofhis creed that a man must take his medicine without squealing. Bartholomew's hand was evident throughout, even in the choice of the place where he was to die. He remembered what Penton had said, and almost smiled at the thought that the Bar B owner had yet one more blow to receive.

The journey did not take long. As they rode round a clumpoftrees and emerged into the little glade where stood the ruined cabin, Martin, who was leading, pulled up and yelled excitedly :

"Hell's flames ! A fella's hangin' there a'ready."

The riders surged forward and grouped themselves around the big cottonwood with its dangling, ghastly burden.

"Ain't that yore grey, Bent?" asked one, pointing to the dead horse.

"Shore is. Missed him this mornin'--reckoned he'd dragged his picket-pin," the saloon-keeper replied.

"Old Forby's ghost has bin busy," said another. "That brand's bin re-cut, an' what's them blame notches mean, anyways?"

Bartholomew needed but one look. "It's Penton," he said. "How the devil--?"

Martin untied the endofthe rope, lowered the body to the ground, and bent over to examine it.

"Plugged through the forehead," he pronounced. "An' he had his gun out." He pointed to where the weapon lay in a patchofsand. Bart shot a furious look at Severn.

"This is yore work, damn yu!" he snarled. "Yu broke gaol to do it. Well, yu'll be takin' his place."

His rage was largely assumed; inwardly he experienced a feelingofrelief. Pennon knew too much, and also, would have wanted too much. Once Severn was settled with, his way was clear, for he did not doubt he could bring the girl to her senses, and Embley would do what was required or follow Severn. Once again Lufton called on the sheriff to perform his duty, and Tyler moved forward, only to shrink back when a gun was thrust in his face.

"I warn you all that the act you are about to commit is unlawful," the judge quavered.

Jeers answered him. The finding of Penton's body had put the finishing touch, bringing to the surface the blood lust that lies dormant in most men. Pulled from his horse, the prisoner was placed beneath the tree, the rope flung over the branch and gripped by three self-appointed executioners. Standing there, waiting for the word which would hurl him into eternity, Severn gazed indifferently at the ring of brutal faces. Behindthem he could see Larry, furious with despair, Bent, and someofthe more sober citizens. Bartholomew, Lufton and the sheriff were standing together, and a few yards away, leaning against a tree, was Snap Lunt, apparently taking no interest in the proceedings. But Severn was not deceived, and wondered what desperate scheme the gunman was devising; for he knew Snap, knew that he would face any odds and go down biting to the last.

A little breeze which tempered the heat of the sun and stirred the leaves to a gentle murmur, the pipingofthe birds, and the gurgling laughterofthe water as it tumbled over the stones in the creek-bed, combined to create a scene violently at variance with the tragedy about to be enacted.

Chapter XXII

SOON after the procession to Forby's had set out on its missionofvengeance, a visitor came riding into Hope. He was a short, rather corpulent man of about fifty, dressed in a dark coat, trousers folded neatly into the topsofhis high boots, a soft black hat, and carefully-tied cravat. He wore no weapons in sight. As he progressed along the forsaken street his amazement increased, and presently, seeing a slatternly woman at an open door, he pulled up and removed his hat, revealing a cropofiron- grey hair.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but the town seems somewhat deserted," he smiled.

"Aye, all the crazy fool men is gone to the hangin'," she told him. `Why, I had to whup my boy what's on'y eight, or he'd 'a' bin off too."

"The hanging?" repeated the visitor.

"Shore, yu know what a hangin' is, I reckon," she replied. "They tried a man this mornin' an' now they've gone to string him up. Fine-lookin' fella, too; not my idea of a bad 'un, but yu can't go by looks. They say he robbed the bank here an' murdered his boss."

"Then he deserves to swing," the stranger decided. "What was his name?"

"Severn he called hisself, but they claim he's Sudden, the famous outlaw," the woman said.

At this she saw the man straighten up in his saddle, and when he spoke again his voice had an edge.

"Where is the hanging to take place?"

"Over to Forby's. It ain't far, though why they want to go trapesin' about when there's trees a-plenty close here I dunno, but men'll allus snatch a chance to waste time."

The stranger dived into a pocket, produced a five-dollar bill and held it out. "I'll be obliged if your little boy will guide me there," he said. "I promise he shan't see any hanging."

The woman grabbed the money, and in response to her shrill call, a barefooted, tear-stained urchin appeared.

"Abe, yo're to show the gent the way to Forby's, but if I find yu've saw the hangin', I'll take the hide off'n yu," she warned.

The horseman stooped, lifted the child to the saddle in frontofhim, thanked the woman, and rode away.

"The shortest road, Abe," he said. "Get there in time and there's a dollar for you. If we're too late ..."

He did not finish the sentence, but the pleasant, genial tone had gone from his voice, and there was no warmth in the keen grey eyes.

Mad Martin, who had constituted himself master of ceremonies, placed his hands on his hips and contemplated the condemned man with mocking malice.

"This is where I even up, Severn," he hissed. "An' as for that dawg, I'm agoin' to cut him in strips with my quirt when yo're --gone."

"Mind he don't send yu after Penton, yu polecat," the cowpuncher retorted.

White with fury, Martin was about to give the signal to those at the rope, when someone shouted, "Who's this a-comin'?"

On the eastern sideofthe glade, through a break in the trees, three riders came in sight, spurring weary horses to a last gallop. Bartholomew gave one glance, muttered a curse, and shouted:

"Finish him off."

"At the first pull on that rope yu die, Bartholomew, an' the fellas holdin' it follow yu."

It was Snap Lunt's voice, vibrant with menace. Standing in a half crouch, his back protected by the tree-trunk, he had both guns levelled, one of them directly covering the Bar B man.

"Who are yu, an' what are yu hornin' in for?" the rancher roared.

"My name's Snap Lunt, an' I'm just seein' fair, that's all," the lintle man said quietly. "Yu can hang that fella just as easy in ten minits' time, when we know what these folk want. Mebbe they're just honin' to see the hangin'."

The name sent a quiverofexcitement through the crowd, and the men holding the rope dropped it; they were taking no chances with a marksmanofSnap's reputation for accuracy;moreover, two or them had been present at Severn's arrest, when the gunman had an attackof"nerves". Bartholomew, too, was nonplussed, and before he could thinkofany expedient, the newcomers had arrived.

"Thank God, we're in time!" Judge Embley gasped, as he flung himself from his panting animal and helped Phil to dismount.

The thirdofthe party, a smallish, one-eyed man, whom someofthose present remembered seeing once or twice in town, got down more leisurely, and stood surveying the scene indifferently. No one took much notice of him, all interest being centred on the girl and Embley. The latter walked straight to his fellow-jurist.

"What's the meaningofthis, Lufton?" he inquired. "Surely I don't find you assisting at a lynching?"

"Certainly not; I came here to prevent one," Lufton replied indignantly. "I have protested in vain."

"And Mr. Bartholomew, has he protested?" Embley asked witheringly.

Lufton flushed. "He has given me every assistance," he said stiffly.

"Even to tellin' his men to finish the prisoner off when he saw yu were comin'," Bent put in.

"Is that so?" Embley flashed.

"I didn't know it was yu," Bartholomew lied, with a savage look at the saloon-keeper. "I thought it was a rescue party from his ranch, an' didn't want trouble. Anyway, I don't see that yore arrival makes any difference; we're strong enough to do as we like, I guess."

"Better guess again, Bartholomew," Embley smiled. "Unless I'm mistaken there are folk coming now who'll have a word to say."

In fact, the distant drumofpounding hoofs was audible, and away off on the plain a compact bodyofhorsemen was approaching at full speed. The Bar B man's face darkened as he saw that this new factor was composedofabout a dozen men from the XT and Lazy M. An awkward bunch, but his supporters outnumbered them, and if it came to a pitched battle... He turned arrogantly to Embley as the punchers dashed up, pulled their sweating, foam-flecked ponies to a halt, and whooped with delight when they saw Severn standing there, a grinofwelcome on his lean face.

"Well, what d'yu reckon yu can do?" Bartholomew sneered. "Hope is under my jurisdiction; I can order the case to be reheard," Embley replied.

Lufton's face crimsoned. "It would be most unconventional to re-try a guilty man," he protested.

"It would be a damn sight more unconventional to hang an innocent one," snapped the other.

The principal actor in the drama, the condemned man, watched the proceedings unperturbed. He had removed the noose from his neck and was leaning carelessly against the tree which had so nearly been put to a more sinister use. With Embley there, he was content to await the issue. His friends, at a whispered word from Ridge, had kept their saddles and strung out in a half-circle, ready for instant action. Bartholomew's men, too, sullen and savage-looking, were also prepared. Only a spark was needed to start the conflagration.

"An' who's goin' to re-try the case, yu, the prisoner's pal, or Lufton?" Bartholomew asked jeeringly.

"That's a question I can perhaps settle for you, gentlemen," said a quiet voice, and the stout little man who had found the townofHope deserted, walked forward. So absorbed were the spectators, that his advent had not been noticed.

Embley spun round and his face lit up when he saw the speaker. "Bleke ! " he exclaimed. "I never in my life was so glad to see you. How in the name f--?"

The little stranger shrugged his shoulders and smiled whimsically. "Just happened along," he said.

He nodded to Lufton, whose unwholesome face was now the colourofcheese, and looked curiously at Black Bart.

"Mr. Bartholomewofthe Bar B, Governor," Embley introduced.

"I've heardofhim," Bleke said in a non-committal tone, and did not offer his hand.

The rancher's face paled under its tan, and his rage at this unexpected development nearly stifled him. But he had to control; all hopeofimposing his will by force had now gone, for hard and reckless as his outfit was, the men would not risk outlawry. He listened contemptuously while Lufton, concerned now only with his own safety, told the storyofthe trail. When he had finished, the Governor nodded comprehendingly.

"I can review the case, take any fresh evidence you may have, Embley, and order a new hearing if I deern it necessary," he decided. "I will do that now. It is not ften one is able to administer the law in such charming surroundings." He walked over to a fallen tree-trunk and sat down. "This will serve for the judicial bench, and the lady shall share it," he smiled. "I am afraid the restofyou will have to stand."

Wondering and wholly impressed by this quiet little man with the shrewd, dominating grey eyes, the citizens crowded round. There were scowling, sulky faces among them, but no one ventured a protest. The nearest approach to it came from Bart.

"Keep an eye on the prisoner--he ain't cleared yet," he audibly told his followers.

"As he returned to gaol voluntarily, I doubt if he will run away, Mr. Bartholomew," the Governor commented. "But he shall stand inside the ring on my left, and if you will take the opposite position, you will be able to watch him yourself."

The rancher scowled but complied. Severn noticed that Snap had contrived to secure a place just behind where he himself was standing.

The Governor turned to Lufton. "I should like to see the evidence the prisoner produced," he began.

He compared the writing in the account-book carefully with the two slips and then looked at Bartholomew.

"You think these are forgeries?"

"Don't think a-tall--I know they are," retorted the rancher. "Very clever ones," Bleke said dryly, and Lufton squirmed uncomfortably. "Let us have your story, Embley."

The Judge gave a brief but complete accountofhis abduction and subsequent interview with the owner of the Bar B, and then, at the requestofthe Governor, Phil told her experience. When she had ended, Bleke turned to Bartholomew.

"What influence had you over these outlaws?"

"The chiefof'em owed his life to me."

"And when you failed and returned to Hope, why didn't you organise a rescue?" asked the Governor.

"I gave a promise--that was the condition--an' I keep my word, even to such as them," Bart retorted.

"How did you get these bills?" was the next question.

"Never had 'em. Severn lied when he said he found 'em in my desk," the big man replied.

He was recovering his assurance, and his lips curled contemptuously. At a gesture from Embley, the man Patch stepped forward, and the lawyer said sharply :

"This is the Governor of the Territory. Take your hat off, fellow."

The witness shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. "If His Excellency don't mind, I'd ruther not for a while," he replied huskily.

Bleke waved a hand impatiently. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Tell your tale and see that it's the truth, or I shall know how to deal with you."

Standing there, his hat slouched over his face and his thumbs hooked in his belt, the bandit shot a covern glance at Bartholomew, who was watching him uneasily. The rancher was feeling uncomfortable; he had taken little notice of the fellow when he had ridden in, but he now knew him for oneofthe White Masks.

"I'll start with the bank robbery, though that ain't the beginning," the witness said, his voice low, hoarse, but pitched so that all could hear. "I was one o' the two who went in; the man who held the horses is--dead." A spasmofsatisfaction flitted across Bart's face at the news. "I didn't fire the shot that downed Rapson."

"Who did?" Bleke asked.

The witness pointed. `Bartholomew," he answered.

Gaspsofamazement, mingled with burstsofderisive laughter, those of the accused being the loudest, followed the statement. "Why, yu darnn fool, less'n half an hour after the robbery I was in town organisin' a posse to search out the thieves," the Bar B man sneered.

"Yeah, a mile outa town yu left us, changed yore clothes an' hoss for others yu had cached, rode around through the brush an' come into Hope from the other side," Patch said, adding quietly, "I follered yu."

"It's a cursed lie, an' I'll twist yore--"

"Let the man tell his story; I'll listen to you afterwards, Bartholomew," the Governor intervened. He handed the alleged forgeries to Patch, and asked, "What do you knowofthose?"

"Bartholomew wrote 'em," was the unhesitating reply. "Ignacio had orders to wipe Severn out, an' got wiped out hisself."

"Ignacio's alive now," the Bar B man protested.

"I saw him shot," the witness went on stolidly. "He ambushed Severn an' got what he deserved. The abduction o' Miss Masters an' the plantin' o' the stolen bills at the Lazy M were done by Bartholomew's orders, an' Severn's money was taken to him. Bartholomew was The Mask."

The rancher laughed scornfully.

"Yu've taught this skunk--a confessed outlaw and thief--a pretty tale to save yore friend's hide, ain't yu, Embley?" he jeered.

The lawyer directed his answer to the Governor. "I did not know what this man was going to say," he explained. "He enabled us to escape, and insisted upon accompanying us, giving no reason."

Bleke nodded, his grey eyes cold and his features expressionless. For the time he was a judge, without friends or foes, there to weigh impartially the evidence put before him.

"What do you know about Masters?" he asked.

"A goodish bit," Panch replied. "I know that when he lost his wife it broke him up; he let go all holts an' went on the batter, drinkin' an' gamblin' with a mighty hard crowd. There come a day when the Desert Edge stage is held up an' the driver killed. Some here'll remember it."

A chorusofconfirmatory nods, grunts and "Yu betchas" greeted the statement.

"Well, that job was pulled off by the gang Masters was hellin' around with," Patch continued. "He come out of a drunken daze the rnornin' after it happened, an' was told that he'd not on'y took part in the robbery, but done the shootin', an' he was shown a paper to that effect, signed by one o' the others. Not bein' able to recollect where he was the day before, he believed it. The fella that had the paper promised it'd never be used--said he got it as a protection for the rest. As yu know, the road-agents never were traced.

"The shock of it jolted Masters straight agin. He gave up racketin' about an' went back to his ranch, but he wasn't the same man; the memory o' that mad crime--for he didn't doubt he'd done it--preyed on his mind, an' then the devil that held that damnin' evidence began to prey on him, too."

He paused a moment. The silence was broken only by the birds and the stamping hoofsofrestless horses. The Bar B owner had lost his look of scornful unbelief, and there was fear in his eyes. He glanced furtively round, but he was hemmed in; there was nothing for it but to brazen things out. After all, they could have no prof; Masters was dead, and so were the others.

"At first it was only small sumsofmoney," the witness went on, "but they grew in size until at last Masters could raise no more. Then he had to give cattle, an' he began to see that nothin' less than his ranch an' his daughter would satisfy this human leech who, in the guiseofa friend, was suckin' him dry. He looked round for some way o' savin' what was left o' his property, an' the idea came to him that if he warn't there, the power o' the blackmailer would be gone. So he put a trustworthy man in charge o' the Lazy M, an' then--faded."

"And the nameofthis--blackmailer?" the Governor asked. Patch pointed again. "Bartholomew," he said quietly.

The rancher had known what was coming and was ready. He swept off his hat and bowed ironically to the Desert Edge lawyer.

"Embley, I gotta hand it yu, yo're a good romancer, an' yore pupil done it damn well," he said. "But talk is easy an' don't prove nothin'." He turned to the man who had so boldly accused him. "How comes it yu know such a helluva lot about Masters? Mebbe yu killed him yoreself."

The outlaw considered the matter for a moment and then said deliberately, "I s'pose I did, in a manner o' speakin'." A threatening murmur came from where the Lazy M outfit stood, and hearing it he flung up his head and laughed. "Aw right, boys," he cried, and the huskiness had gone from his voice, "don't get het up; I'm goin' to bring yore boss to life agin."

With a quick gesture he whipped off his hat, took the parch from his eye, and said, "Phil".

The girl had been staring at him, unable to recognise the father she had given up hopeofseeing again in the bearded man before her, but at the soundofher name spoken in the familiar voice, doubt could no longer exist, and with a cry of "Daddy", she ran to his arms.

For a few moments the cheering rnob forgot everything save that the missing man, for whose murder another had been nearly done to death, had reappeared so dramatically. Severn, too, came in for part of the congratulations, men fighting to pat his back or shake him by the hand. The cow-puncher endured their enthusiasm with a saturnine smile; he knew that manyofthem would have hanged him with the utmost cheerfulness a short half hour earlier, had the cards fallen differently.

Chapter XXIII

To Black Bart, the reappearance of the missing rancher had been a well-nigh crushing blow, and for a moment flight seemed to be his only hopeofescaping, at the best, a long termofimprisonment. One swift glance told him that in the excitement he was being neglected, and he began to slowly edge his way outofthe crowd. But there was one other who, little interested in Masters, was greatly so in Bartholomew. The latter had only progressed a few yards when :'Oh, don't," came a satirical warning whisper.

The Bar B man turned and saw that the speaker was Snap. The gunman's hands hung loosely over the buttsofhis forty-fives, and the slitted eyes and corded jaw-muscles conveyed the threat that was not in the words. The cattleman stiffened and stood still. Then he squared his shoulders, and his lips pursed in an ugly pout as a new thought came to him; Masters alive might still be used.

The Governor's voice was heard, calling for order. The milling mob fell back, all eyes on the little man who, dropping as it were from the sky, dominated them by the sheer powerofhis personality.

"I think, gentlemen, that Mr. Masters has more to tell us," Bleke said.

With one arm round his daughter, the man who had been missing so long resumed his story. "There ain't much more, but what there is means a lot--to me," he began. "When I left the Lazy M, I went to The Sink, where I had another hoss, clothes an' grub cached ready. I changed, shoved my old duds into a cleft in the rocks--"

"An' a rifle," Severn commented, with a grin at the sheriff, who was looking very unhappy.

'Why, no," Masters said in surprise. "I left the gun on the hoss when I turned him loose, after shootin' a jack-rabbit an' bloodying the saddle; yu see, I wanted to be reckoned dead. Then I drifted into the Pinnacles country an' lay doggo. Soon as I got a fair crop o' whiskers, I joined the White Masks, tellin' 'em I'd lit outa Texas 'bout ten clear jumps ahead of a sheriff's posse; they fell for it." He looked at Severn. "Yu got my warnin's?"

"Yeah, an' I'm thankin' yu," the foreman replied. "I couldn't figure who sent 'em, but they was shore useful."

"A fella has a right to protect his own property, I reckon," Masters grinned. "I soon found out that while Shadwell was the nominal chief o' the bandits, the real head was Bartholomew."

The Bar B owner shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "An' I took a posse to hunt down my own men, huh?" he gibed.

"An' failed to find 'em," Bent cut in caustically. "I was one o' the fools that follered yu that day."

Like a trapped beast, the discredited rulerofHope glared round and realised that his day was done. With a shake like thatofa dog, he turned savagely to the Governor.

"A tangle o' lies, framed up by that fella Severn an' that damned lawyer who was helpin' him glom on to the Lazy M," he shouted.

Philip Masters laughed loudly. "Severn steal the Lazy M?" he cried. "Why, yu bonehead, he as good as owns it a'readygot a mortgage on every foot o' the land. It was him lent the money I paid to keep yore lyin' mouth shut, though I didn't know it when he come as foreman."

Bartholomew was not yet beaten; he still had a card to play. He turned on Masters.

"Think yu've been damn clever, don't yu?" he sneered. "Mebbe yo're forgettin' I've still got evidence to hang yu."

"Which evidence is a lie, as Embley can prove," the other said fiercely.

The Governor took the paper the lawyer handed to him, read it, and looked gravely at Bartholomew.

"This is the signed and witnessed death-bed statement of a man named Mobey," he said. "In it he confesses that he shot the Desert Edge stage-driver, and that he wrote a document fastening the crime on Masters at your instigation."

Bartholomew tried a laughofincredulity, but before the stern, accusing eyesofthe Governor, the sound died in his throat. Over the spot where he stood, the tree which had borne so many tragic burdens cast an ominous shadow, and he could not keep his gaze from the big branch. His mind dropped into the past. How long ago was it? Severn, who had seen and read the look, answered him.

"Ten years back, Bartholomew," he was saying, and his voice was ice-cold, "yu an' some o' yore outfit hanged an old man to that tree on a charge o' stealin' cattle. He was innocent--yu had altered the brands yoreself an' put the beasts in his pasture; his on'y crime was being a `nester'."

The rancher moistened his dry lips. "Yu say so," he snarled. "Prove it."

Severn pointed to Darby. "That man was ridin' for yu at the time," he said. "He was of the party. Because he protested, he's been spared; the others, well, yu know what's happened to them, Bartholomew."

Despite himself, the big man shivered. "I fired that fella--he'd say anythin'," he defended. "Anyways, it's his word against mine."

"No, there is another eye-witness here," the foreman said.

Bartholomew's eyes widened as, obeying Severn's gesture, Larry stepped forward. "Him?" he cried in derision. "Why, he musta been on'y a kid."

"Yu said it," Severn told him sternly. "The kid whose father yu hanged before his eyes, whose home yu burned, Laurence Forby."

The revelation struck Bartholomew dumb; he did not doubt the truthofit. He could only glare at this "pup"--as he was wont to contemptuously call him--who had emerged from the obscurity of the past to put the finishing touch to his downfall. This boy, with the tense, granite face and vengeful gaze, would get all that he, Bartholomew, had schemed for--the ranch, the girl.... Madness, the madness of bitter hate, possessed him.

"I oughta wiped yu out then, yu whelp," he muttered, and snatching out his gun, levelled it full at Larry's breast.

Swift as he was, another was swifter. Before the murderous finger could squeeze the trigger, a lanceofflame came from Severn's side, the crash of the shot drowning Phil's cry, and Bartholomew, flinging his hands high, staggered, sagged at the knees and dropped in the dust, his gun exploding harmlessly.

Severn, leaning forward, the acrid smoke swirling about his middle, looked at his fallen foe for a moment, handed Snap back his gun, and turned away. Amid an awestruck silence, one of the Bar B outfit stooped and examined the body.

"Plumb atween the eyes, with a strange gun snaked from'nother fella's belt," he announced wonderingly. "Sudden? Well, I should smile. I reckon the boss just invited hisself to his own funeral."

And that was Bartholomew's epitaph.

That same evening, as Severn was busy straightening up his shack at the Lazy M, a saucy, smiling face peeped through the open door.

"Dad says, will you take supper with us?" its owner said.

The foreman looked up, his face grave but his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"I'm obliged, but I'll eat with the outfit," he replied.

The girl laughed merrily. "I've won," she cried to someone outside, and then to Severn, "I bet Larry ten--T bet Larry you would say just that."

Severn grinned at the slip she nearly rnade. Stepping to the door, he regarded his friend critically.

"Larry looks just as pleased he lost," was his comment. "O' course, if he's honin' to pay that debt, why, I ain't noticin'."

Phil's face grew rosy. "There are times when T don't like you a bit," she pouned, but her look contradicted the words.

"An' me havin' just won a bet for yu," the foreman reproved.

"Oh, you're impossible," she cried. "Bring him along, Larry. Supper is ready, and Dinah will be heartbroken if we're late. She's never had a real live Governor to feed before."

She danced on ahead, and the two men followed more soberly. The eyes of the younger were full of adoration.

"Don," he said, and there was a tremor in his voice, "I ain't worthy of her."

Severn grinned at him. "Yu don't reckon yo're tellin' me news, do yu?" he asked quizzically.

The meal was the merriest the Lazy M had ever seen. In the course of it, Embley, with a knowing look, asked a question.

"Was it entirely accident, Governor, that brought you to Hope Again to-day?"

The great little man's eyes twinkled, and he shook his head at the lawyer.

"Playing the brand of poker you do, Judge, your faith in the element of chance should be stronger," he replied, and then, "Well, maybe I did hear that a certain desperate young outlaw" --he smiled at Sudden--"had come to life again, and perhaps Bartholomew's activities were more widely known than he wished."

And that was all he would say on the subject.

Later on, from a secluded corner to which they had retired, as they fondly hoped, unobserved, Larry and Phil saw Severncome out of the lighted room, cross the veranda and lean against the rail. A lithe grey form padded noiselessly after him and squatted on its haunches at his side.

There was no moon yet, but the great vault of the heavens was punctured by a myriad pin-pricks of light. From the bunkhouse came the metallic tinkle of a banjo and the vociferously-shouted chorus of a song. In the far distance the Mesa Mountains showed black against the deep blue of the sky.

But the Lazy M foreman saw none of this. His vision was of another ranch-house away beyond the mountains, on the veranda of which sat a golden-haired woman--his woman--with a chubby, kicking man-child on her knee. He could see the smile in her eyes, and hear the low, chiding tones :

"Be good now, you little--outlaw."

He flung away his cigarette, stooped to caress the rough head leaning against his thigh, and the watching couple caught the muttered words :

"To-morrow, old fella, we're goin'--home."