Sudden Makes War

"Aw, go chase yerself," Yorky countered. "Me rich uncle in Noo York--"

A howl of merriment cut short the explanation; extravagant tales of this mythical relative had amused them on more than one occasion. Sudden had joined the group.

"Don't yu mind 'em--they're just jealous," he said. "Yu'll be the best-dressed Circle Dot fella at the dance."

"What dance?" several voices asked.

"I hear the town is holdin' one, at the schoolhouse, tickets a dollar a head-to approved applicants."

"That last oughta shut out them Wagon-wheel felons," was Tiny's comment. "When's she due to happen, this fandango?"

"Middlin' soon, but the date ain't fixed."

"It's two long weeks to pay-day, an' we couldn't raise a dollar in the outfit," Blister wailed.

"Shucks! Dan's got a slate, ain't he?" Sudden grinned. That evening he told his news to Dover and the foreman, both of whom were inclined to be sceptical.

"Rainbow must be wakin' up," was the rancher's opinion. "How did you get the glad tidin's, Jim?"

"Met Malachi on his way up here. No, he warn't lit up, but I wouldn't say he was enjoyin' the ride. He's unusual, that hombre."

"Shore is, if he'd come ten mile to bring a bit o' local gossip," Dan said ironically.

"There was somethin' else; he said yu might find it worth while to make the acquaintance o' the new bank manager--soon."

--"What the devil--"

"That's all he would say, but in yore place I'd take the advice. Malachi ain't a fool, 'cept to hisself."

Dan gave in. "I'll ride over in the mornin'."

"He also mentioned that the dance is bein' organized by Zeb Trenton, to introduce his niece," Sudden went on.

The young man's face flushed furiously. "Then the Circle Dot ain't attendin'," he grated.

"That'll disappoint the boys an' put us in wrong with everybody," the foreman dissented.

"He's right, Dan," Sudden supported. "Yu can't afford to stay away."

"Damnation, whose side are you on?" Dover asked irritably.

"Yores, an' I made it plain to Trenton yestiddy when he offered me double pay to ride for him," was the pointed reply.

"He--did--that? An' you sent him packin'? I'm sorry, Jim; I'm a sore-headed bear, these days."

"Don't need talkin' about. He put it that he owed me some-thin'."

"Imagine a Trenton sufferin' from gratitude! All he wanted was to take a good man from me."

"The dance is also to serve as a welcome for another newcomer--the bank fella," the puncher added.

"That settles it--we just gotta be there," Burke said. "Yorky must 'a' had early news o' the party--he's all dressed up a'ready, an' got the boys guessin'."

"I saw him as I rode in, struttin' around like a young turkey gobbler," Dan smiled. "Yore doin', I s'pose, Jim?"

"Part o' the cure," Sudden replied.

In the private office of the bank Dover sat facing the manager, a smallish, undistinguished person, nearing fifty, with thinning hair, and pale, spectacled eyes.

"I wasn't meaning to trouble you yet, Mister Dover, in view of your bereavement," he said. "But I'm glad you came in; I wanted to see you."

"About anythin' in particular?"

"Er, yes. Are you acquainted with the state of your father's finances?"

"No. Dad was allus kind o' secretive, an' I ain't had time to look over his papers."

"Quite so. Well, Mister Dover, when I examined the books of this bank I was amazed and even alarmed by the amount owing to it by the local cattlemen." .

"You tellin' me the Circle Dot is one of 'em?"

"Not only one, but the most deeply involved."

At this moment the door opened and a young, fair-haired girl stepped in. "Oh, Dad," she began, and stopped. "Sorry, I didn't know you had a visitor."

"My only child, Kate, Mister Dover," the banker explained. The young man stood up, shook hands, murmured, "Pleased to meetcha," and the girl withdrew, but not without a challenging glance of approval at the rancher.

"What's the position?" Dan asked.

"We hold a mortgage on your ranch for forty thousand dollars," came the reply.

Dan jerked upright, his eyes large. "The hell you say?" he gasped. "Forty thousand? That's a jag o' money."

"Much more than we can afford to lose. I understand the cattle business has been bad for some years."

"You won't lose a cent," Dover asserted. "There's better times right ahead."

"Mister Trenton, whose experience you must allow, doesn't share your views about that."

Dan's face darkened. "How came the Wagon-wheel into this?" He put a question.

"It is our rule never to disclose information about a client," Maitland said pompously.

"Then Trenton don't know about the Circle Dot?"

A second's hesitation, and then, "Not from us, Mister Dover," came the denial.

Watching the weak, irresolute features, Dan knew the words were untrue. Long years of sitting on a stool, adding up figures, had given the man a position of some responsibility, but not the knowledge to use it. He would bully those beneath him, and be servile to his superiors, and of the latter he would regard Trenton as one.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"The mortgage expires in a little less than two months, and as I am convinced our Head Office will not consider a renewal, it must be paid off."

"An' failin' that?"

The banker lifted his shoulders. "We have the power to sell."

To all the young man's arguments that a forced sale would not produce even the amount of the debt, let alone the value of the ranch, and that, by waiting, the banker would get the whole sum due, he shook a stubborn head. He had the interests of his employers to consider; his predecessor had been unwise; he was sorry, and so on.

Dover listened with a set jaw; he knew the mean, warped little soul was joying in the possession of authority for the first time. Mechanically he took the flabby hand extended when he rose.

"I shall hope to see you at the dance," Maitland said. "A very kindly thought on the part of Mister Trenton. It will give me an opportunity of meeting our customers in a more congenial atmosphere than that of an office. My wife and daughter will appreciate it."

Dan gave a non-committal answer, went out, and proceeded to the Parlour. Bowdyr was alone--yesterday's patrons were sleeping it off, and to-day's had not yet begun to come in.

"Where's Malachi?" the rancher enquired.

"At the opposition joint, I expect," Bowdyr grinned. "He's an odd mixture: allus pays cash here, but runs an account there--sez he'd hate to die in my debt, but it would cheer his last moments to remember that he owed Sody 'bout a million dollars. You want him?"

"I want a drink more--a big one."

The saloon-keeper looked at him keenly. "What's the trouble, boy?" he asked, pushing forward bottle and glass. Dan swallowed a hearty gulp of the spirit, and then told the story. Ben's face grew graver as he listened.

"Hell!" he said, when all was told. "I knowed the Ol' Man was up agin it, but never suspicioned it was that bad. An' you think Trenton knows?"

"Shorely," Dan replied. "He'd milk that money-grubber dry. I've gotta raise that coin somehow, Ben, or he'll buy the Circle Dot for half its value."

"Well, Dan, any help I can give is yourn, but pore times in the cattle trade hits me too," Bowdyr said.

"I know that, Ben, an' thanks, but this is my job."

The entry of Malachi put an end to the conversation. He appeared to be sober, and helped himself to an unusually modest dose of his customary tipple.

"I'm obliged for yore message, Doc," the rancher said. "You've seen Maitland? What's your opinion of him?"

"I think he's taken the place of a better man."

"Yes, it was an unlucky day for Rainbow when Lawson elected to go back East," the doctor agreed. "This fellow has always had a boss; he'll find one here."

"He's done that a'ready," Dan said bitterly. "Though mebbe he ain't aware of it yet."

Malachi nodded. "Trenton gets the town to give a dance in his niece's honour, an' tells Maitland it's for him." He laughed wryly. "Clever devil; wonder how much he owes the bank?"

"I dunno, but I'd like to," Dan said. "You goin' to this festive gatherin'?"

"I might. I'm told the girl is pretty. Have you seen her?"

"yeah, she has looks," Dover admitted, and left soon after. "He's missin' his dad," Bowdyr remarked.

Malachi nodded agreement. "Ought to take more liquor; drink is the sovereign cure for depression, old settler; lifts a man to Paradise--"

"An' drops him in hell next mornin'," the saloon-keeper finished. "You can't tell me, Doc; I sell it."

Chapter VIII

Dover spoke little during the evening meal, but afterwards, when he joined Sudden and Burke at the fireside--for the nights were chilly--he shared the burden which had been on his mind all day. The effect on the foreman was shattering.

"Goda'mighty, Dan, it can't he true," he cried. "Them bank sharks must be framin' you."

"I saw the deed," the rancher replied. "It's straight enough.

We have to pay up, or let Trenton grab the Circle Dot."

"Is the Wagon-wheel in debt to the bank?" Sudden asked. "Shore to be, but not up to the neck, as we are."

"Then they won't find it easy to put up the price."

"Not unless Garstone can get it back East."

"That'll take time, an' gives us a fightin' chance to heat 'em to it," the puncher responded. "Mebbe if yu reduced the amount ..."

"I offered that, but he wouldn't listen. Trenton has painted a pretty gloomy future for cattle."

"Awright, we gotta make it so--for him," Sudden said grimly. "Meanwhile, we'd better keep this to ourselves; sometimes there ain't safety in numbers. Yu got anythin' in mind, Dan?"

"Yeah, but it's such a long shot that--well, it'll sound hopeless."

"Long shots come off--times."

The rancher pondered for a moment, and then, "Bill, you'll have heard o' Red Rufe's Cache?"

"Shore, but I never took much stock in it," Burke replied.

"It's true," Dan said, and went to an old desk in a corner of the room. They heard a click, and he returned with a creased half-sheet of paper. "Here's what it sez: `Dear Dave,--I've made a lot o' money an' a good few enemies. In case one o' these last gets me, I'm lettin' you know that my pile is cached in the hills. When you reach the bowl on 01' Cloudy's knees, watch out. West is north, an' north is noon, one half after will be too soon. I'm sendin' the rest o' the instructions by another hand. Yore brother, Rufe.' That was the last news we had of him, some three years ago."

"An' the second messenger never arrived?" Sudden asked. "I dunno. A stranger was found two-three miles out on the Cloudy trail a little while later; he'd been shot an' robbed. The first chap got drunk in the town an' may've talked some. Anyway, the story of the cache oozed out, an' there's been more than one try to find it, but Cloudy is big an' hard country."

"Yore father didn't attempt it?"

"I ain't shore; he was away for a week or more several times, but without the rest o' the directions, it's almost hopeless."

"An' it was this paper that--"

"Dad was killed for," Dan said gruffly. "Yeah, someone has the other. I figure Flint was sent here to steal it."

"That means Trenton has the other?"

"That's my belief, but I've no proof," the rancher admitted. "Yeah, I guess I could find this place the paper mentions, but without the further instructions ..." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"Well, it's a forlorn hope, like yu said, Dan," Sudden remarked. "We gotta keep eyes an' ears open. One good pointto bite on is that whoever has the second message is wuss off than we are--he don't know where to begin."

"If on'y we could put our paws on that missin' paper," the foreman lamented.

"If--that's one hell of a word, ol'-timer," Sudden smiled. "Just the most provokin' one in the whole darn dictionary."

The evening of the dance arrived and found the Circle Dot bunkhouse in a state of feverish activity. Shirts had been washed, boots polished, and war-bags were being searched for a hoarded neckerchief or cherished tie, which was not always found in the possession of its rightful owner.

"Hi, who's rustled my red silk wipe?" Lidgett wanted to know, and then, detecting Noisy in the act of slipping the missing article out of sight, pounced upon it.

"Why, you gave it me," protested the silent one.

"It was on'y lent, you chatterin' son of a cock-eyed coyote," Lid retorted. "Think I got nothin' to do with my earnin's but keep you in clothes?"

"You don't earn a cent--what Dan gives you is part o' our pay," Noisy grinned. "We do the work."

Paddy, the cook, pestered by demands for hot irons to take the creases from seldom-worn coats, and the loan of his razor, which was known to possess an edge, energetically damned the dance and the fools who were going to it. He was remaining at the ranch.

"An', thank Hiven, it's a peaceful night I'll be enjoyin' for once in me loife."

"It's a mercy you ain't comin'--there'd be no space for anybody else," Slim unwisely told him.

"Shure an' there wud for you if the room was full, ye slice o' nothin'," the fat man retorted. "Yer partner'll think she's dancin' wi' a flag-pole."

Before Slim, who really did justify his name, could hit upon an adequate reply, Blister cut in. "They say the Trenton dame is awful pretty; wonder if she'll take a turn with any of us?"

"Zeb'll 'tend to that," Tiny said. "I'm told the banker's girl ain't exactly a grief to look at. I've most near forgot how to waltz; let's try her out, Blister."

It was an unfortunate rehearsal--for someone else. The two wash-basins were in great demand, and Slocombe, despairing of getting one, had brought in a bucket of water, and, stripped to the waist, was bending over it, sluicing his face, when the disciples of Terpsichore collided heavily with his rear. Head jammed in the bucket, the outraged victim rose to his feet, the soapy contents cascading down his person, and literally drowning the muffled maledictions which came from the interior of the utensil. Tiny, eager to make amends, tore the strange headgear from the wearer's head. The effort was well-meant, but Tiny was a tall man, his snatch was upward, and he forgot the dangling handle. With an agonized yell, Slocombe grabbed the offending pail, hurled it with a crash of glass through a window, and clutching his almost fractured jaw with both hands, capered around the room spitting out lather and profanity with every leap. The paralysed outfit fought its mirth--one laugh might have turned the comedy into a tragedy. Tiny broke the silence:

"Which I'm damn sorry, Slow," he said, and his voice contained no hint of the laughter bubbling within him. "We didn't go for to do it; we never saw you."

"Sorry?" Slocombe cried. "You lumberin', club-footed elephant--they oughta hang a bell on you to tell folks when yo're movin' around; yo're a danger to the c'munity, an' why in hell did you try to slice the face off'n me with that sanguinary handle?"

"I acted for the best, Slow, honest I did," the big man replied, but his contrite expression was too much for the audience and a storm of merriment broke out.

Slow looked murder for a moment, and then--being a good sport--joined in. The appearance of Sudden stilled the tumult, and he had to be told the story.

"Yo're dead right, Slow," was his decision. "Tiny oughta have a corral all to hisself."

"You'll be late, Jim, won't you?" Blister asked, noting that the puncher had made no preparations.

"I ain't goin'," was the reply. "Someone has to stay an' keep house, if on'y to see that nobody steals our cook."

"Huh, they'd have to fetch a wagon to take him away," Slim chimed in.

"We'll cut the cards to see who stays home 'stead o' you," Tiny said, and the rest voiced approval.

"Mighty good o' yu, but it's all settled," Sudden repliedt "An' I don't care for dancin', anyways."

Later, as Dan mounted to follow his men, he said, "Why not come along, Jim. Paddy can hold down the ranch."

"I'm playin' a hunch; mebbe there's nothin' in it."

When the hilarious whoops died away in the distance, he had an idea. Returning to the living-room, he opened the desk. Knowing where to look, it did not take him long to find the hidden drawer. Then, the paper in hand, he pondered. On a shelf, amid a dusty litter of odds and ends, was a spike file of paid bills. Sudden removed half, thrust on Rufe Dover's letter, and replaced them. Then he saddled his horse, leaving it picketed just outside the corral. These preparations made, he returned to his lonely vigil. Paddy was singing in the kitchen, and away over the plain the weird call of a prowling coyote came to him.

"The boys would say there ain't no difference, an' they'd be damn near right," he chuckled, as he lit a cigarette and settled down in his chair by the fire.

The hours crept by and the watcher was beginning to think he had foregone an evening's amusement vainly when a rifle-shot brought him to his feet; something was happening on the range. He stepped swiftly to the kitchen and awoke the drowsing cook.

"Get a gun an' keep yore eyes peeled," he said. "Somethin' odd goin' on."

He hurried to the hut by the wood-pile; its occupant was squatting by the fire.

"Hunch, I want yu to fork a hoss an' fetch Dan an' the boys; they're at the schoolhouse in Rainbow. Say there's trouble, an' hurry. Understand?"

The old man nodded, and the puncher wasted no more time. He reached his horse, coiled the picket-rope as he ran, mounted, and spurred into the open. He had not gone far when he saw a flash, followed by a crack--this time, of a revolver--and the bellow of a frightened steer. Rustlers! Sudden clamped his teeth on an oath and slowed down--he had no desire to run into a trap. Soon he could hear the beat of galloping hooves, and discern shadowy forms scurrying to and fro in the gloom. They were rounding up cattle in readiness to drive.

Sudden dragged out his Winchester, waited until he could see one of the vague figures, and squeezed the trigger. The crash of the gun was succeeded by a muttered curse which brought balm to the marksman; the bullet had not been entirely wasted. Three fingers of flame stabbed the darkness, but the Circle Dot man had moved immediately he had fired, and the lead hummed harmlessly past him. He replied, aiming at the flashes, three quick shots from different positions, to convey the impression that he was not alone. Apparently he succeeded, for a hoarse voice said:

"Better be movin'--we've given 'em time enough. C'mon." The puncher sent a couple of slugs to hasten their departure and then rode forward. A dark blot on the ground proved to be a dead horse from which the saddle had been removed. Nearby about a score of steers were milling. Sudden broke and scattered them; if the rustlers returned, they would have to start all over again. But he did not think they would; the remark, "given 'em time enough" was sticking in his mind, and realizing the impossibility of running down the raiders in the dark, he headed for the ranch-house.

Approaching quietly, he dismounted and slipped in by the back door. On the floor of the kitchen the cook was lying senseless. Sudden dashed into the living-room in search of whisky. The place might have been struck by a cyclone. Chairs and table overturned, the desk and secret drawer open, rug thrown aside, papers and other articles scattered broadcast. Sudden grinned as he saw that the shelf and its dusty burden had not been touched. There was no whisky, and a smashed bottle on the hearth supplied the reason. He was looking at this when a voice came from the doorway:

"Don't stir if you wanta go on breathin'."

There was no need to turn; a small mirror over the fireplace told him that a masked man, with a levelled gun, had followed him in from the darkened passage without. Sudden obeyed a further order, but did not raise his hands very high.

"Where's the letter from Rufe Dover?" the unknown barked.

"On the shelf behind me--there's a file," the puncher said.

In the glass he watched the fellow move, noted that as he

reached for the shelf, his eyes instinctively followed his hand.

This was the moment Sudden was waiting for. His own right dropped, whisked out a gun, reversed it, and fired over his shoulder, the whole action taking seconds only. He saw the intruder stagger under the impact of the bullet, drop his weapon, and lunge from the room. At the same moment a voice outside the window said:

"What's doin', Rat? Want any help?"

"No," Sudden gritted, and sent a slug crashing through the glass.

He heard the front door slam, and the same voice asked: "You got it?"

"Yeah, in the shoulder--that cursed gun-wizard showed up. C'mon, beat it."

A scuffle of hurrying hooves told the rest.

The puncher returned to the kitchen to find that the injured man had recovered his wits and was sitting up tenderly feeling a large bump on the back of his head.

"Glory be, an' phwat's happenin' this noight," he wanted to know.

"S'pose yu tell me," Sudden suggested.

"An' that won't take long," Paddy replied. "I'm settin' in me chair, an' hears someone come in by the front dure. I thinks it's yerself an' stan's up to welcome ye. An' thin, the roof falls on me."

The festivities at Rainbow were in full swing by the time the Circle Dot contingent arrived and had deposited hats, spurs, and guns. Desks had been removed from the floor, forms arranged against the walls, thus leaving space for the dancers. At one end of the room, a pianist and a fiddler--loaned from Sody's saloon--struggled for the lead in a polka, and bets were laid as to which would win. Trenton, his harsh countenance contorted in what he would have called a smile, had presented his niece to the more important of the townsfolk, and she was now dancing with Malachi. Her glance rested on Dover as the rancher and his men entered, but she at once looked away. The doctor danced well, and had taken the trouble to improve his appearance. But he was his usual flippant self.

"I will wager a waltz that I can guess your thoughts," he said: "Is it a bet?"

"Why, yes," she smiled.

"You are wondering what I am doing out here in the wilds." The girl flushed. "You win," she said. "Now tell me."

"I might answer with your own question," he parried. "Mister Trenton is my sole remaining relative."

"Tough luck," he murmured, and noting the tiny crease between her level brows, "I mean, of course, being reduced to one. Now I had too many relations, and they all had ideas as to what 1 should do with my life, so I ran away."

"But why choose such a--sordid place?"

"Sordid? Well, I suppose to Eastern eyes it would seem so; a wit once said that Rainbow started with a saloon to supply the necessaries of life, and the store came later to provide the luxuries. But have you reflected that this same sordid settlement may one day become a great city, of which--as an early inhabitant--I may be regarded as a foundation stone?"

"Now you are laughing at me," she protested.

"No, I'm serious. `Imperial Caesar, dead and turned to clay, may stop a hole to keep the rats away.' At present, I'm only stopping the holes these foolish people make in one another. Which reminds me, you must see our cemetery--it is really pretty."

"You would naturally be interested in it," she replied, paying him in his own coin of raillery.

"Very little," he smiled. "Most of those within it required no aid from my profession to enter the other world. Ah, the fiddle has beaten the piano by a whole bar. Hello, Dan, you've met Miss Trenton?"

The young rancher, by whose side they had stopped, looked into the girl's cool, unsmiling eyes, and said, "No."

"Well, you have now," Malachi replied. "Ask her prettily and perhaps she'll dance with you."

He left them, and Dan's gaze travelled over the slender, simply but perfectly-clad figure. "Will you?" he queried.

She made a pretence of consulting her card. "I have no vacancy," she said icily. "Besides, only a skunk can dance with a skunk."

Dan's mouth hardened; it had been an effort to ask, and the scornful reminder of his rudeness made him reckless. His eyes swept the room, noting that many Wagon-wheel riders were present.

"You shore fetched along plenty partners," he flung back, and turned away.

Garstone found her red and angry. "I don't like that young man," she told him.

"That's something else we have in common," he said. "I hate the sight of him."

He slid a possessive arm about her and steered into the throng. He was easily the best-dressed and most striking man in the company, and in spite of his bigness, light on his feet. Dan, watching with narrowed eyes, was conscious that they made a perfect pair. He was also painfully aware that everyone else seemed to be having a good time. As usual, on these occasions, males predominated, but this did not trouble the cowboys, for when ladies were lacking, they just grabbed another of their kind and jigged about, exchanging quaint expletives when a collision occurred. Blister and Slow--the late fracas now only a matter for mirth--were performing together, and a fragment of their conversation reached him. Blister was the gentleman.

"Never seen you lookin' so peart, pardner," he complimented in dulcet tones. "You bin washin', or somethin'?"

"Yeah, y'oughta try it," the "lady" instantly retorted.

"you'd dance well too, if you knowed what to do with yore feet," Blister went on.

"I'll shore know what to do with one if you trample on 'em any more," was the spirited response.

At any other time this, and the sight of Tiny, carefully convoying the school-mistress--an austere-faced lady of uncertain age--and holding her bony form as though it were a piece of delicate china, would have moved him to merriment, but now...

"Might be goin' to his own funeral," he muttered. "Hell, I'll get me a drink."

Again he met with disappointment; he ran- into Maitland - and had to be introduced to the banker's wife--a colourless little woman with a tired face. Then he found himself dancing with the daughter.

"When we came here, I didn't think I was going to like it," she confided, "but I am. The cowboys are so picturesque, and I'm longing to see a ranch."

"You'd be disappointed," he told her. "Just a lot o' land, with some cows sprinkled around."

The expected invitation not having materialized, she changed the subject. "Isn't Miss Trenton charming--quite the prettiest girl here, but perhaps you don't care for brunettes?"

"If a fella likes a woman I reckon the colour of her hair don't matter," he fenced.

"See, she's dancing with that sick-looking boy; she must be real kind."

Miss Maitland was right, and wrong. Beth, anxious to humiliate the man who had again been rude to her, had hit upon a means; the honour he had solicited should be conferred upon the least important of his outfit. Yorky, feeling rather unsure of himself, despite his contempt for the "hayseeds," suddenly found the belle of the evening sitting by and looking kindly at him.

"You must be the boy Doctor Malachi was telling me about," she said. "Like myself, you come from the East."

"Yes'm, li'l ol' Noo York," he stammered, and added, "Allus sump'n doin' there."

"Far too much doing," she smiled. "Unending noise and hustle, never any rest. I didn't like it."

This was another blow to the boy's faith in "li'l ol' Noo York."

"Jim don't neither," he admitted.

"And who is Jim?"

"He's my pal," Yorky said proudly. "I useter loaf aroun' the house all th' time, but Jim sez, 'Quit smokin', go a-ridin' an' git th' breath o' th' pines.' So I done it, an' I'm better a'ready."

"The breath of the pines," she repeated. "Your friend must be something of a poet."

"Not on yer life," the boy defended. "Nuttin' slushy 'bout Jim. Gee! y'oughter see him stripped--I mean, he's--"

"A finely-made man," she helped him out. "You must tell me about him, and yourself, while we dance. You do dance, don't you?"

"I c'n shake a leg," he said; and conscious that he had omitted something, "but I dasn't ask--"

"Nonsense," she smiled. "I am going to enjoy it."

And enjoy it she did, for her partner had the gamin'sinstinct for rhythm in his toes. Thus she learned how Old Man Dover had brought the boy to the ranch, and how he had hated it until a black-haired hero had come to change his outlook entirely. She was told about Flint, and what "fine guys" the boys were.

"And Mister Dan, is he a fine guy too?" she asked. "Shore he is, white clean t'rough," Yorky said loyally.

Miss Trenton stole a glance at the rancher as he passed, and failed to experience the exultation she had expected. When the music ceased, she dismissed her partner with a gracious word of thanks. Garstone stepped to her side.

"Why on earth were you dancing with that tramp?" he asked.

There was a warning flash in the dark eyes. "I believe it is a lady's privilege to select her partner."

"Of course, but if you must take one of the opposite camp, surely it need not be the stable-boy."

"The stable-boy behaved like a gentleman," she said coldly. "No, I am tired, and wish to rest a little. Miss Maitland is looking appealingly in this direction; I am sure she will oblige."

"That's a good suggestion--we have to keep in with the fellow who holds the purse-strings," the big man laughed, but there was a frown on his face when he had turned away. Meanwhile, Yorky's sharp eyes had noticed something, and he disappeared to investigate. He returned during the next interval, and got Dan's attention.

"Say, Boss," he whispered. "Five or six o' th' Wagon-wheel fellers, includin' Flint, has beaten it."

"Gone to Sody's to tank up," Dan suggested.

"They ain't--I've bin ter see. Their hosses is missin' too," the boy replied. "Man I asked said he hadn't seen Flint since soon after the second hop."---

"That's certainly odd, Yorky; it ain't like cow-hands to run off from a dance--they don't get so many. Hello, Bill, wantin' me?"

"Hunch is outside--Jim sent him; sez there's trouble," the foreman said.

"Round up the boys, an' we'll be goin'."

In ten minutes they had left Rainbow behind and were riding for the Circle Dot. Silently, and with eyes alert, they pressed on through the still, dark night. When, at length, they reached the ranch, all seemed as usual. Then Sudden's voice challenged:

"Who's there?"

Dover replied, and a shaft of light appeared as the door opened; the puncher, gun in hand, stepped out.

"Sorry to have busted in on yore fun, boys," he said. "The excitement's all over, I guess, but when I sent Hunch I didn't know what was afoot." Dan asked a question. "Rustlers. I downed a hors. They didn't get any steers."

"Durn the luck, it would 'a' bin a good finish to have a run in with cow-thieves," Tiny grumbled. "Jim had the best of it after all."

When Dover and the foreman followed Sudden into the living-room they got a shock, and had to be told the rest of the story. Dan's face fell when he saw the empty secret drawer.

"So they got it," he said dejectedly.

Sudden grinned, reached down the file and stripped off the bills until he came to the letter. "Like hell they did," he replied. "I had a feelin' someone might know o' that hidey-hole an' come for it, so I put it in the least likely place for anythin' o' value. Now we'll make shore; three of us know the contents o' that bit o' paper, so we'll--burn it."

"Yo're right, Jim, an' I don't know how to thank you," Dan said. "It was a smart move."

"Shucks," the puncher replied, and dropped the document in the fire.

"Settles that," Burke remarked. "How did you get on to their plans, Jim?"

"I didn't, but I got to wonderin' why Trenton was keen on an affair which would leave the Circle Dot wide open. Some o' his fellas could show theirselves, ride here, an' get back before the dance finished; no one could prove they hadn't been in town all the time."

"Which is how it was planned," Dan said, and told of Yorky's discovery. "The raid on the cattle was a fake?"

"Yeah. When Trenton learned I wasn't comin'--he had a list, yu know--they had to get me away from the ranch-house. Why, they even fired a gun in case I didn't hear 'em. Havin' played safe with the paper, I went along; yu see, there was just a chance someone was after the cows."

"I guess you've got the straight of it," the foreman said. "Mebbe that dead hoss'll tell us somethin' in the mornin'."

But this hope proved futile; on the left hip of the animal a square patch of skin had been stripped off. The marauders had not overlooked any bets, as they believed.

Chapter IX

Yorky was the proudest member of the outfit. Not only had he eclipsed them all by partnering the peerless Miss Trenton, but promotion had come to him.

"That kid was the on'y one of us to notice that them Wagon-wheel outcasts had sneaked away from the show," Dan told his foreman. "He goes on the pay-roll at twenty a month, an' it's up to him to make it more."

To the surprise of the bunkhouse, the usually precocious youth accepted his good fortune modestly. "It's mighty good o' Dan," he said. "I ain't wort' a dime to him, but I'm aimin' ter be."

"That rich uncle--" Slow began.

"Aw, go an' fry snowballs," Yorky grinned.

"Honest, I'm glad, Yorky," Blister put in. "I was scared we'd lose you as well as Tiny."

"Lose me?" the boy queried. "An' where's Tiny goin'?"

"Well, I figured las' night you'd soon be ridin' for the Wagon-wheel," was the reply. "An' Tiny's fixed to marry the school-marm an' help lam the kids."

The big puncher addressed the company. "Blister ain't a natural liar; it's just that his tongue gits ahead o' his thoughts."

When Yorky appeared for the morning excursion, Sudden noticed, with inward satisfaction, a coiled lasso hanging from his saddle-horn.

"Ain't proposin' to hang yoreself, are yu, son?" he asked. The boy was used to his friend's sardonic humour. "Naw,"

he replied. "Guessed yer might larn me to t'row it. C'n yer rope?"

"Well, I'm not as good as some, but I expect I can give yu some pointers," the puncher admitted.

When they reached the pool, and had enjoyed their swim, Yorky was instructed in the rudiments of roping, which he found to be a much more difficult art than he had imagined. Also, he was treated to an expert exhibition which caused his eyes to bulge, and filled him with an ambition to do the like. In the puncher's hands, the lariat seemed to become a live thing, obeying every twitch of the deft wrist.

"Gawd, I'd give a lot ter handle a rope like that," Yorky said admiringly.

"Yu'll have to--a lot o' time," Sudden told him. "Practice, son, just practice, an' a leetle savvy--that's all yu need." As the teacher was preparing to leave, the pupil asked, "What will a gun cost me, Jim?"

"Probably yore life," was the grim reply. "Yu got enough to keep yu busy with ropin', hawg-tyin', an' learnin' to ride somethin' a bit more uncertain than Shut-eye yonder."

"I ureter carry a gat."

"The devil yu did? An' what was yore other name--Bill Hickok?"

"Oh, I ain't no sharp-shooter, but I was in with a hard bunch," Yorky replied airily. "I knows which end of a gun th' trouble comes out of."

"It's the trouble that comes outa the other fella's yu gotta keep in mind," Sudden warned. "Yu leave shootin' be for a spell; get a grip o' them other things first."

And because of his faith in this man who had done so much for him, Yorky pushed into the background his most cherished ambition, and contentedly applied himself to the task of mastering his lariat. As Sudden had hoped, the fresh, bracing air, new interests, and the revival of hope, were working wonders, and "li'l of Noo York" was fast becoming a less glamorous memory.

It was some days later that Yorky went in search of adventure, and found it. He had not yet been raised to the dignity of being assigned a definite job, and time was more or less his own. He knew nothing of the country round, and determined to find out something about it. Particularly he wanted to seethe Wagon-wheel ranch-house, perhaps cherishing a hope of getting a glimpse of the girl who had been kind to him at the dance--kindness, until he had come West, was a rare experience. So, when Sudden had left him, he set out. Casual questions in the bunkhouse had given him the route.

"Foller th' creek, ford her at th' white stone, an' bear right," he repeated. "Sounds dead easy, Shut-eye, but we gotta watch out--them Wagon-wheelers is mebbe feelin' sore."

Like the rest of the outfit, Yorky believed that a raid on the cattle had been attempted. Paddy had been sworn to silence, explaining the bump on his cranium by an invented fall over a chair in the dark, a solution which evoked ribald reflections on his sobriety.

He crossed the stream, and then headed north-east over an expanse of grass-land plentifully besprinkled with brush, which enabled him to keep under cover for the most part. The necessity for this was soon apparent, for he had gone less than a mile when a horseman swung into an aisle he was about to enter. Just in time he forced Shut-eye headlong into a thicket of thorn--to the discomfort of both of them--and waited while the rider went by.

"Flint!" the boy breathed. "That's onct I'm lucky."

When the man disappeared he resumed his journey, and presently, in the distance, saw what he knew must be the place he sought. The ground about it was too open to conceal a horseman, so he hid his mount in a clump of brush, dropping the reins over its head as Sudden had told him, and advanced on foot, keeping to the right, stooping and running swiftly from one bush to another.

He had got within a hundred yards of the house when two men emerged and, to his dismay, walked directly towards the tree behind which he was hiding. He looked round, but there was no cover he could hope to reach without being seen. His eyes went upward; the tree was a cottonwood, thickly foliaged. With a bound he managed to grasp the lowest branch and, panting with the unusual exertion, climbed to the crotch above. Since he could only see below through one small opening, he judged he was safe so long as he stayed quiet.

"If I bark, I'm a goner," he murmured, and instantly a violent desire to do this very thing assailed him. Smothering it, he bent down to listen, for they had stopped beneath him. Garstone opened the conversation.

"Well, Bundy, why have you brought me out here?"

"Because it's quiet, an' to ask you one plain question: Are you at the Wagon-wheel to help Trenton, or to help yoreself?"

"What the hell do you mean? How dare you-- "Easy, Mister Garstone," the foreman cut in. "Puttin' on frills ain't apt to pay in these parts where "one man is as good as another, 'cept with a six-shooter. Now mebbe yo're fast with a gun--I don't know--but I'm tellin' you that I am--damned fast."

"Are you trying to pick a quarrel with me?" Garstone asked.

"No, I want you to talk to me as man to man, an' not as a boss to a dawg who works for him," Bundy returned sourly.

"I am here to help Trenton, and in doing so, I hope for some advantage to myself. Does that satisfy you?"

"It's a law-sharp's answer. I'll put it plainer: are you prepared to sit in at a game what'll help you, but not Trenton?" Yorky, easing a cramped leg, made a slight rustling. Apparently the foreman must have glanced up, for the trembling boy heard Garstone say, "Birds," and add with a laugh, "Hope they don't forget their manners." After a moment's pause, he answered the question. "It would depend, of course, on what the game meant--to me."

"Half the Circle Dot, or around twenty-five thousand bucks, as we might decide," Bundy said coolly.

"You may deal me a hand," the big man replied. "If I like the cards, I'll play; if not, I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Good enough. Well, here's the layout; with forty thousand we could buy the Circle Dot an' run it ourselves, or sell it to Zeb for fifty thousand."

"Marvellous! Not suggested by our talk with Trenton, of course." His tone betrayed disgust and disappointment.

"All that jaw suggested to me was that we'd be fools to help another fella to a wad o' coin we could have ourselves," Bundy replied.

"And, of course, you know where to find the money?"

The foreman was losing his patience. "The mistake you make, Garstone, is to think eveyone else a blasted fool," he said. "Shore I know; what'd be the sense in talkin' if I didn't?"

"That makes all the difference. Go ahead."

"The cash will be on the ten-fifteen from Washout tomorrow mornin', consigned to the bank at the Bend. It will be a small train, just the engine, one coach, an' a baggage-car, containing the coin."

"Coin? You mean bills, with the numbers known," Garstone commented. "Too dangerous."

"Part of it'll be paper, but by an--oversight--the list o' numbers will be missin'--at the other end; that'll cost us a thousand. The rest will be in gold. There'll on'y be the engine-driver, his mate, one conductor, and the baggage-man to deal with. Three of us oughta be able to handle it."

"Three? Who's the other?"

"Flint. He gits a thousand too--that's arranged."

"So we lose two thousand?"

"What did you expect, money for nothin'?" Bundy asked, his voice pregnant with contempt.

"Oh, all right. What's your plan?"

"Ten mile short o' the Bend the line runs through a thick patch o' brush an' pine. One o' the trees dropped across the metals will stop the train. You cover the driver while Flint an' me take up the collection--we'll have to skin the passengers too an' make it look like a reg'lar hold-up. O' course, we cut the wires first."

"My size is rather outstanding," Garstone objected.

"We'll all be masked, an' dressed in range-rig, nobody'd reckernize you. I'll borrow Jupp's duds--he's about yore build --an' havin' strained a leg at the dance"--this with a wink--"he ain't usin' 'em."

"Well, it certainly sounds feasible," Garstone admitted. "Feasible?" the foreman echoed ironically. "Why, it's cash for just stoopin' down."

"Not much of a stoop for you, perhaps, but it's a hell of a one for me, Chesney Garstone," was the reply. "However, the opportunity is there, and must be taken advantage of. By the way, what did Zeb expect to find at the Circle Dot?"

"I dunno--paper o' some sort, but they failed, so Flint couldn't tell me anythin'. Trenton's got some scheme for raisin' the wind, but he's pretty tight-mouthed 'bout it."

"We'll help him," Garstone smiled. "The more money he has, the higher price he can pay for the Circle Dot. How did you get on to this, Bundy?"

"I ain't sayin'," the foreman replied. "You can take it the facts is correct; that's all as matters."

They moved away, and it was not until--peering between carefully-parted branches--he saw them vanish among the buildings, did the boy dare to move his stiffened limbs. Dropping to the ground, and bent double, he scurried from cover to cover, and, after what seemed to him an age, reached his pony.

"Us fer home, Shut-eye," he gasped, as he scrambled into the saddle. "An' we ain't losin' no time neither, git me?"

Following Sudden's instructions, he had taken note of landmarks likely to assist him in finding his way back, and presently came almost in sight of the ford over the Rainbow. Here he received a fright--a horse was splashing its way through the water. He was heading for the nearest shelter when a soft voice called, and he saw that the rider was Miss Trenton.

"Why, Yorky," she smiled, as she cantered up. "Were you running away from me?"

"I hadn't seen yer--on'y heard th' hoss," he explained. "It mighter bin--anyone."

"But surely none of our riders would harm you?" she said. "I b'long to th' Circle Dot outfit--that'd be enough."

She shook her head, unconvinced. "Have you been to visit me?" she enquired.

Yorky's thin cheeks reddened. "Naw, I jus' wanted ter see yer home."

"And what do you think of it?"

"Betche'd be happier at the Circle Dot," was the unexpected answer.

It was now her turn to colour up, though afterwards she could not imagine any reason for so doing. There was a trace of reproof in her reply. "Thank you, but I am quite comfortable."

Yorky was not slow-witted; he saw that he had displeased her. "I warn't meanin' ter be rude," he apologized, and looked so downcast that she had to smile again.

"And I wasn't meaning to be cross," she said. "So we'll both forget it. Why did you leave the dance so early; weren't you having a good time?"

"The best ever, an' that goes for all of us." He was itching to get away; the trip had taken much longer than he hadthought, and the sooner his news was told, the better. He did not realize the full import of what he had learned, but it was plain that a train was to be robbed and the plunder used to obtain the Circle Dot, though how that was to be done without the present owner's consent was beyond his comprehension.

"Including Mister Dover?" she asked.

"I didn't hear no complaints."

"I think he might have let the men stay a little longer," she persisted.

"Dan's young, but he knows his job," Yorky said loyally--even this lovely girl must not find fault with his boss. He fidgeted in his saddle. "Guess I oughter be goin'; I bin out all day, an' th' boys'll be worryin' ;.I ain't wise ter th' country-- yet."

"Running away from me again?" she teased. "Well, so long, Yorky, it is my turn to visit you now, and perhaps I will."

He snatched off his hat as she moved on, and it might have pleased her to know that it was probably the first time he had paid this tribute to a woman.

Splashing through the ford, he thumped his unspurred heels against Shut-eye's well-padded ribs in an effort to extract a little more speed from that lethargic but easy-going quadruped.

"Yer got four legs, pal--I've counted 'em--use every damn one," he urged. "If we'd met up with a Wagon-wheeler 'stead o' her ..."

He reached the ranch without further interruption, and was unsaddling at the corral when Tiny and Blister rode up.

" 'Lo, kid, Noo York glad to see you?" the former asked.

"I didn't git as fur, but Rainbow is warmin' up fer th' weddin'."

The big man swallowed the bait. "What weddin'?"

"Yourn an' th' school-marm's," Yorky cackled, and dodging Tiny's grab, made for the ranch-house. Blister's bellow of laughter followed him.

He entered by the back door, and the cook--noting the flushed, excited face--was moved to comment. "Phwat hey ye been up to, ye young divil, an' how much grub has passed yer lips the day?"

"Oh, hell, Paddy. Where's Jim?"

"In th' front room with Dan an'--Saints, he's gone."

The impetuosity which took him from the kitchen caused him to burst unceremoniously upon the three men. They stared at him in silence for a moment, and then the rancher said quietly:

"I didn't hear you knock, Yorky."

"I'm sorry, Boss, but 1 got noos, an' it won't keep."

"Take a seat an' tell us," Dan replied.

It came out with a rush. Ten minutes later they had heard the story of his adventure, minus the meeting with Miss Trenton, and were regarding the narrator with stunned astonishment. Sudden read the minds of his companions.

"Is this the truth, Yorky, or one o' those fine tales yu sometimes invent to amuse the boys?" he wanted to know.

"Cross me heart, it's true, Jim," came the instant reply.

"An' there is a ten-fifteen--I've travelled by it a good few times--a little train, made up like he said," Dan stated.

"Well, it shore beats the band," Burke said. "Garstone an' Bundy double-crossin' Trenton; that's a laugh I'll enjoy."

"I guess not, Bill," Dan said. "We've gotta stop it. With that cash they can make a deal with Maitland, an' we're ditched. They wouldn't buy till the hold-up was stale news, or Garstone would claim to have raised funds East. Oh, it's smart, an' I never suspected Bundy o' brains."

"There's more to him than folks aroun' here savvy," the foreman replied. "Have you noticed that he never wears a glove on his right hand?"

"Gunman, huh?" Sudden said. "An' advertises it. Shucks!"

Dover, remembering the shooting in Sandy Bend, understood the puncher's disdain, and smiled, but his face was soon sober again.

"Question is, what are we to do?" he asked. "If we tell the sheriff, he'll just laugh at us, an' that's all; so would Trenton. We don't know who is sendin' the money so a warnin' ain't possible neither."

"Take some o' the boys an' catch 'em in the act," Burke suggested.

"One of 'em might get away with the booty, an' Foxy would turn 'em loose anyway. What's the joke, Jim?"

For Sudden's eyes were twinkling like those of a, mischievous boy. "Just an idea," he said, and went on to tell them what it was; in a few moments they were laughing too. "Gee! it'd be a great play to make," Dan chuckled. "But could we pull it off?"

"I'm sayin' we can," Sudden replied confidently. "Why not have a shot at it--just the three of us."

"Say, ain't I in on this, Jim?" Yorky ventured to ask. "I could hold th' hosses."

Sudden's shake of the head was definite. "No, yu've done yore share, an' we're all mighty obliged, but there'll be a lot o' hard an' fast ridin' to-morrow mornin'. Time'll come when yu can keep up with the best of us; just now, patience is yore strong suit. An' mind, not a word."

"I get yer, Jim," the boy replied. "I'm a clam."

Chapter X

Early next morning the three conspirators devoured a substantial breakfast, saddled their mounts and, in the grey light of the dawn, disappeared in the direction of Sandy Bend. They did not follow the regular trail, having no desire to be observed, or to visit the town itself. This meant a loss of time and speed, but was necessary, since to run into the Wagon-wheel men would be fatal to the success of their plan.

Leaving the Circle Dot range at the eastern limit, they plunged into an almost trackless waste of broken country, the natural difficulties of which made anything in the nature of a direct course impossible, but all three were expert in the art of breaking a trail, and having started in good time there was no need to force the pace.

The foreman led the way, and though they were often driven wide of their line, his sense of direction brought them back to it. Nature was awake, birds whistled and called, and in the undergrowth they could hear the stealthy movements of unseen denizens of the woods. Riding in single file, they spoke seldom; each of them was dwelling on the part he had to play; a slip might result in unpleasant consequences. The morning air felt chill on their faces, but the slowly-mounting sun would soon bring more heat than was comfortable.

At the end of several hours, the leader called a halt and got down. Pointing to a sharp ridge on their right, he said:

"Oughta be able to git a glimp o' the Bend from up there. I'll take a peep--better he shore than sorry."

He trudged away, and they presently saw him come into view on the peak of the height. He was soon back, a grin of satisfaction on his face. He waved a hand to the right.

"The Bend is over there, so we're pointin' slap on the target," he said, and with a glance at his watch, "Time a-plenty, too."

"An' it's a good place for the purpose, is it, Bill?" Dover queried.

"Couldn't 'a' found a better if I'd bin Jesse James hisself," Burke assured him.

Another five miles brought them to a small forest of pines, and threading their way through the slim, straight trunks they came to a strip of thick bush, on the other side of which ran a single line of railroad. They pulled up where the matted foliage of the trees afforded deep shadow.

"Here she is," the foreman said, unstrapping a small axe from behind his saddle.

"No need for that, Bill," Dan said. "That windfall will serve our purpose."

A rope was tied to the prostrate tree, and one of the horses dragged it to the side of the line. The three men then lifted and laid it across the rails.

"They'll have to get down to shift her," Sudden said. "Yu'll take charge o' them, Bill, while I deal with the passengers, an' Dan attends to the baggage-car. We'll spread along, keepin' in the bushes till the train stops. No shootin', 'less yu have to, an' then--miss."

The horses were concealed in a group behind the brush, and tied, in case the noise of the locomotive should startle them. Burke consulted his watch again.

"She's liable to be here any time now," he said. "Better pull down the blinds an' git to our stations."

With faces masked by bandanas in which eye-holes had been cut, and hat-brims drawn low down, they looked at one another and laughed.

"Shore does make a difference," Sudden admitted. "I wouldn't trust either o' yu with ten cents."

"Funny what a sense o' security that bit o' rag gives you," Dover reflected aloud. "I was feelin' a mite nervous about the job, but it's all gone."

"Me, I'll be glad when it's over," the foreman confessed. "Our intentions is good, but we're bustin' the law all to bits."

A puff of smoke down the line sent them under cover; the train was coming. Laboriously it approached, rumbling along the rails, belching white clouds, and then, with a screeching of brakes, slowed and stopped. The driver thrust his head out of the cab and stared at the obstruction.

"Hey, Luke, there's a blame' tree in the road," he called. "We'll hey to git down an' shift her."

Clumsily the two men clambered out and moved to the front of the engine. At the same moment, a masked figure stepped from the bushes and, in a gruff voice, said:

"Put 'em up, boys, an' you won't git hurt."

A levelled revolver, held in a steady hand, added weight to the command, and the railwaymen had no thought of disobeying. As their hands reached for the sky, the driver spoke:

"The pot's yourn, Mister. I'm too wicked to die--yet."

The train-robber grinned beneath his mask but made no reply. He had done his part, and was wondering how his friends were faring. Actually, they had picked their places to a nicety. The conductor, thrusting out his head to discover the reason for an unusual halt, nearly collided with the muzzle of a six-shooter.

"Shut yore trap an' do just what I tell yu, or ." The threatening gesture was unnecessary--the conductor's pay did not justify heroism. He fell back, and allowed the possessor of the weapon to board the train. The man handed him a small leather sack.

"Collect all the cash an' valuables in the coach, startin' with yore own," he was told. "I'm just behind yu, an' if there's any funny business, yu won't be here to laugh. Sabe?"

Evidently the conductor did, for he emptied his pockets with alacrity, and then entered the coach. There were only half-a-dozen passengers, and every one of them protested, but the sight of the sinister figure stalking behind him silenced all argument. But, as Sudden afterwards related, "What they were to do to the railroad company would--put it outa busi ness."

When the ordeal was completed, and it did not take long, the bandit took the bag, stepped to the end of the coach, and ,addressed his victims:

"Listen, folks. When yu reach Sandy Bend, go to the bank ,n' yu'll get back yore property. This ain't a real stick-up we're doin' it to win a wager, but--don't try no tricks, 'cause that'll make it serious." As he descended from the train, he motioned the conductor to follow. "I've told those people the truth, but I'm keepin' yu covered till my friend has finished."

A moment. later Dan appeared, a corded, wooden box under one arm. He had experienced no difficulty--the baggage-man also was too sinful, or poorly-paid, to risk his life. Moreover, he had no knowledge as to the value of the purloined box, which, with some sacks of flour, comprised all his charge. So, white-faced, he watched the marauders vanish into the undergrowth. After all, the banker at Sandy Bend could afford to buy more gun-fodder, for the box--addressed to him--was labelled, "Handle with care. Cartridges."

Sudden read the inscription and laughed grimly. "Golden bullets, but they won't be fired at the Circle Dot. Well, boys, we've done fine, but the job ain't finished; I've gotta get the plunder to the Bend an' beat the train. I reckon Nigger an' me can make it. Yu two point for home." They demurred a little at this, but he would not listen. "We settled it thataway,"'he reminded. "I ain't knowed there an' yu are."

Rolled in his slicker, the box and leather bag were roped to his saddle, and just as the engine-driver and his mate pushed the obstruction clear of the line, he set out.

The train resumed its interrupted journey, the occupants excitedly discussing the incident, and speculating on the possibility of recovering what they had lost. The conductor was disposed to a sanguine view.

"No sense in tellin' us that if it ain't so," he said. "We couldn't do nothin', an' it's just the sort o' mad caper them cowboys would indulge in on a dare. Anybody out much?"

"My wallet contains two hundred dollars I'll be glad to see again," a passenger replied.

Smaller amounts of currency, rings, and watches were claimed by the rest, and when the conductor stated that the baggage-car contained only sacks of meal and a box of cartridges, an atmosphere of optimism developed.

"If they're winning a worth-while sum--and they must be to risk a long term of imprisonment--they'll play safe and return the booty," the largest loser argued. "We'll know soon."

But their troubles were not yet over, for after travelling another five miles, the train slowed down and stopped with a jerk. The conductor stuck his head out--cautiously this time, and promptly drew it in again.

"Damn me if there ain't another tree on the line," he said. "What's the game? We got nothin' more for 'em."

The bewildered passengers heard a sharp order, accented by a rifle-shot, which brought the two men on the engine tumbling hastily to the ground, hands in the air. The tall, heavily-built cowboy who had given it slanted his smoking weapon on them, and said warningly:

"Stay put if you want to go on living."

Stealing a glance back along the line they could see that the previous procedure was again in operation; two other men, masked and with drawn pistols, had boarded the train. In vain the conductor--who at once realized that these were not the same visitors--tried to explain.

"Yo're too late, Mister, them other fellas has beat you to it; we're cleaned complete."

The bandit pushed the gun in his face. "What other fellas?" he barked. "Talk fast, or by the Devil's teeth ..."

The trembling man talked fast, and called upon his passengers to support his story by an ocular demonstration--their empty pockets. The recital did not improve the intruder's temper.

"Can you describe 'em?" he asked.

The conductor's reply was hardly helpful. "They was cowboys seemin'ly, with their faces covered. Said they on'y did it to win a bet, an' we'd git our stuff back at the Bend."

The stranger laughed sneeringly. "An' on the strength of a lie like that you let 'em git away with it, you lousy cowards." He backed out of the coach, with a parting threat that anyone who stirred would be shot.

In the meantime the custodian of the baggage-car was telling the same story with less success. Bundy, who had allotted to himself the task of securing the real reason for the robbery, was not easily convinced. He, too, wanted a description of the unknown hold-ups, and got no more than his confederate. Then he searched every inch of the van, even tapping the boards with the butt of his gun.

"What's in them?" he growled, pointing to the sacks. "Meal, I s'pose," the man replied.

"Open an' tip it out," Bundy ordered, and when the fellow hesitated, jammed a six-shooter into his ribs.

This produced immediate action, the sacks were untied and up-ended, but no wooden box was forthcoming.

"Like I said, she ain't there," the train-man unwisely remarked.

"Can't I see? you -- yella dawg's pup. Go an' look some more, blast you," Bundy snarled.

With a savage swing he drove a fist behind the man's ear, flinging him, face downwards and well-nigh senseless, into the pile of flour, and went out. Flint was waiting for him, and a call brought Garstone. A few words revealed the position, and the big man's face--could they have seen it--might have caused trouble; it expressed only incredulity and rage.

"Are you asking me to believe that?" he cried involuntarily.

"Please yoreself," Bundy snapped. "Go search the train an' question those lunkheads, if you want."

"But it's impossible--only we three knew, unless ..."

"Unless what?"

"That other fellow, who was to have a thousand, got a better offer and sold us."

"Well, he didn't, an' he's losin' his too," the foreman retorted. "He dasn't play tricks on me--I know too much about him. Somebody's got in ahead of us, either by accident, or because they heard somethin'. I'm for home; no good hangin' about here."

Three very disgruntled would-be train-robbers, each deeply suspicious of the others, climbed into their saddles and disappeared in the shadowy recesses of the pines. Once more the train went on its eventful way.

About the same time the rider of a black horse got down outside the bank in Sandy Bend, took from behind his saddle a box which seemed to be weighty and a small bag. Stepping inside, he asked to see the manager.

"What name shall I say?" the clerk enquired.

"Please yoreself, he won't know it anyway," the stranger smiled. "Just say it's real important."

After a short wait he was ushered into the private office. The manager, middle-aged, with an astute face and keen eyes, pointed to a chair.

"Have a seat, Mister --. I failed to catch your name."

"That ain't surprisin'--I didn't give it," Sudden smiled. "My business is on'y to hand over somethin' I reckon belongs to yu."

He placed the box on the desk, and the banker's eyebrows rose. "It certainly does," he replied. "But you are not working for the railway?"

"I am, an' I ain't," the puncher said. "An', anyway, the train don't 'pear to 'a' come in yet. Yu came mighty close to losin' them--ca'tridges."

"I don't understand."

"Well, last night, me an' a couple o' friends chanced to learn of a plan to hold up the train this mornin'--the fellas was short o' feed for their guns, I expect." The story-teller's eyes were alight with mirth. "We hadn't much time, an' the on'y wagon-trail out we could hit on was to stage a stick-up ourselves--sorta forestall 'em, as it were--an' fetch the plunder to yu."

The manager stared. "That was a clever but very daring expedient," he said.

"Oh, I dunno, the odds are allus in favour o' the holdups," Sudden replied. "Yu see, they have the advantage o' springin' a surprise, an' the fellas on the train are covered afore they know it."

"you talk like an expert."

"I've studied the subject," the puncher grinned. "Fella can't tell what he may come to."

"Your knowledge seems to have served you well on this occasion. You had no trouble?"

"It was like money from the of folks at home," the puncher said easily. "There's one thing, we had to make it look right an' clean the passengers too. I told 'em to call here for their property--it's all in the small sack. Mebbe yu'll 'tend to that?"

"Most willingly," the manager replied, and laughed. "So the other gang must have held up a stripped train? The joke was certainly on them. Now, see here, my friend, you and your companions have rendered the bank and the railway a great service, and I wish--"

"It don't need speakin' of," Sudden interrupted. "We put this over for personal reasons, an' that's all there is to it."

The banker was studying him keenly. "I'm perfectly certain I've seen you before, and recently," he observed.

"No, seh, yu ain't seen me afore, nor even now," the visitor replied meaningly.

"Well, it shall be as you say, but if at any time I can help you, count on me."

"I'm thankin' yu," Sudden said, gripping the hand extended. At the door he turned. "Mebbe I oughta tell yu that the record o' the numbers o' them ca'tridges will be found--missin'."

He was gone before the astounded manager could say another word. An examination of the box revealed the expected gold and notes; in the bag were jewellery, bills, and small change. The banker scratched his head; in all his experience of the West, he had never heard of a prank like this.

The last drop in Bundy's cup of bitterness was added when he met his employer in the afternoon.

"I sent Rattray in to the Bend with the wagon to collect some flour I ordered from Washout," Trenton said. "It was to be on the ten-fifteen, and he should be back by this. Seen anythin' of it?"

The foreman said he had not, which, as he now knew, was a lie; not only had he seen it, scattered all over the dirty floor of a baggage-car, but he had sent a man squattering into the middle of it. The reminder of the chance they had missed seared like a hot iron, and when he was alone he told the world exactly what he thought of it in a flood of abuse which only ceased when a swift suspicion came and gave the Recording Angel an opportunity of re-charging his fountain pen.

Was it by accident that the Wagon-wheel flour was on that particular train? Had Trenton learned of their plan and made his own move to checkmate it? Bundy swore he would find out, and he finished with a blistering promise of vengeance.

Chapter XI

The news of the attacks on the train travelled fast, and soon reached Rainbow; the passengers had chattered freely of their unusual experience. Speculation as to the real reason for the quixotic behaviour of the first gang of bandits, and witticisms at the expense of the second, were on the lips of everyone. It therefore resulted that the Wagon-wheel foreman and his confederates had salt unwittingly rubbed into their wounds at frequent intervals. The identity of the actors in the comedy was still unsuspected, for the banker and his clerk both described the person who had returned the stolen property as just an ordinary cowboy. This did not satisfy Bundy, and two days after the event he made the journey to the Bend in the hope of discovering something.

During a round of the saloons, he heard himself ridiculed and had to agree that he was a blundering fool so often, as to make him wish he had not come, especially as he had learned nothing. But, at last, when on the point of giving up, and in a drinking hovel of the lowest type, he was rewarded. The talk was on the one topic, and for about the tenth time in various places he had said:

"Beats me how that fella could ride into a town like this, in broad daylight, an' git away unnoticed. Ain't all blind in the Bend, are you?"

"Not that early in the day," laughed a bystander.

"An' it warn't quite like that neither," chirped a dried-up old fellow. "I seen his hoss--leastways, I reckon it was his'n the time fits--standin' outside the bank."

Bundy tried to appear indifferent. "Did ye now? What kind of a hoss was it?"

"Big rangy black, with a white blaze on the face; mustang breed, I'd say; a fine critter," the old man replied. "Worth a fortun' to a road-agent."

The foreman needed no more; there could be only one such horse in all the district. He came out of the dive afire with a fury which increased with every mile of the long ride home. So it was Green and two of the Circle Dot outfit who had cheated him--for so he regarded it. Had they kept the money it would have hurt less, but to be outplayed and made an object of derision by men he hated, cut him to the bone. Once, dismounting, he stood for a few seconds in a half-crouch, then snatched out his gun and sent the six shots in rapid succession at a thin sapling a dozen yards distant. Stepping to the tree, he noted that every bullet had chipped the bark at the same height. Reloading the weapon, he got back into the saddle, his teeth bared in a Satanic grin of satisfaction.

"I'm as good as I ever was," he muttered. "Look to yoreself. Mister blasted Green."

Arrived at the ranch, he went in search of Garstone, but failed to find him. The Easterner had, in fact, ridden into Rainbow with Miss Trenton. On reaching the place, however, they had separated for the time and so she was alone when Dan almost bumped into her as he came out of the store. He raised his hat and would have gone on, but she stopped and smiled.

"Why do you always try to avoid Me?" she asked.

Dan had little experience of the so-called fair sex, or he would have recognized the age-old device of putting an opponent in the wrong, so the accusation staggered him. But he was a fighter, and he had already decided that this slim, prepossessing girl could only be handled with the gloves off.

"I guess I must be hopin' you'd run after me," he smiled impudently.

The unlooked-for reply discomposed her, and all she could say was, "Not if you were the only man in the world."

The smile broadened into a grin. "You'd have to travel some then," he said. "Think o' the competition. Gee! I'd shore have to live in the tall timber."

Despite her irritation, the absurd picture he conjured up made her laugh. The parcel he was carrying provided a change of subject; the shape showed that it could only be a rifle.

"More preparations against your own kind?" she asked sarcastically.

"Precautions is a better word," he corrected. "An' don't you call the Wagon-wheel outfit my kind--they ain't. Anyways, this happens to be a present for a good boy. I fancy you know him."

"Yorky?"

"The same. He did me a service an' I want to even up."

"Wasn't there anything else you could choose? He's only a child." She herself was less than three years older.

"I reckon he never was that, but he's due to be some sort of a man, an' we'd like it to be a real one."

"And that will help?" she enquired, a little scornfully. "Quite a lot. We're gettin' him interested in work on the range an' this is part of it. If you'd seen Yorky two months ago you wouldn't recognize him."

"Well, I hope he'll like his gift."

"Like it?" Dan laughed. "He'll take it to bed with him."

She laughed too, and then her face sobered. "I must go," she said. "Mister Garstone brought me in, and is waiting." Hat in hand, he watched the two meet, and pass up the street together. The man's face was registering disapproval when the girl reached him, but all he said was:

"Had the cowboy anything of interest to tell you?"

She divined that he was jealous, and the thought thrilled, though she had not yet troubled to analyse her own feeling regarding him. But she was young, and the admiration of a physically attractive man, who had at least a semblance of culture, could not be entirely unwelcome. Still, she had no intention of letting him suspect this, and it was in rather a distant tone that she replied:

"I was under the impression that Mister Dover owned a ranch."

"Thinks he does, but maybe he's mistaken," Garstone told her. "I wasn't asking out of curiosity, Miss Trenton. The Wagon-wheel and Circle Dot are practically at war, and that fellow might have let slip information of value to us."

"Our conversation was confined to the youngest member of his outfit--the boy they call yorky."

"Member of his outfit--that's a good one," Garstone sneered. "I'd call him a bit of useless lumber."

"Hardly that, since Mister Dover has just purchased a present as a reward for good work."

"Dover must have wanted a pocket picked."

"You must not speak ill of my admirers," she said playfully.

"Why, quite recently, he rode to the Wagon-wheel just to see where I lived. There's devotion."

"The devil he did?" Garstone said. "When was that?"

She thought for a moment. "Oh yes, I remember; it was the day before that amusing attempt to rob the train. How awfully sick the second party must have felt on finding they had been anticipated, but it was childish to vent their spite on poor uncle's flour."

Garstone had little to say during the rest of the ride home, and seeing Bundy as they approached the ranch-house, made his excuses to his companion, and rode towards him. "Any news?" he asked.

"Plenty," the foreman frowned. "The fella who took the stuff back to the bank was atop of a black hoss with a white blaze."

"Green!" Garstone exploded. "I knew it."

"Then you might 'a' opened up an' saved me a journey," the other said sourly.

"I didn't learn of it until a little while ago," the big man replied, and repeated what the girl had told him. "We heard a movement in that tree we were talking under and put it down to birds. That young sneak must have seen us coming, and hopped up there to hide. He'd take the tale back to Green, and that damned cowboy out-planned and made monkeys of us. God! I'll bet the Circle Dot riders haven't stopped laughing yet."

"They'll have somethin' else to grin about afore I've done with 'em," the foreman growled. "As for Green ..." He tapped the butt of his gun. "He's for hell."

"The trouble is, they know who were in it," Garstone said, rather uneasily. "If they split to Trenton ..."

"Can't prove a thing--it's their word agin ourn," Bundy reassured. "As for puttin' Zeb wise, Dover wouldn't do that if he knowed the of fool was to be bumped off tomorrow. No, I ain't worryin' 'bout that; it's the pot we've bin done out of. Why'n blazes didn't I send a slug into that damned tree?"

"No use moaning over a lost opportunity; we must find another. Trenton has a scheme; perhaps that will be luckier--for us," the Easterner said meaningly. "How are you going to deal with Green?"

"Watch my smoke," the foreman said.

Garstone shrugged. "Watch your step; he doesn't look a simple proposition to me," was his reply. "Fie sports two guns."

"A bluff, meanin' nothin'," Bundy sneered. "Take it from me, the fella who can really shoot on'y needs one gun an' one shot; mos'ly there ain't time for more."

In the front room at the Circle Dot, Yorky was clutching the Winchester and scabbard Dan had brought home and presented to him. Usually loquacious enough, his gratitude and delight in this new possession nearly deprived him of speech.

"I dunno--how ter--thank yer, Boss," he stammered. "I didn't do nuttin'--it was jus' blind luck, an' I ..." He bogged down completely.

"Cut the cackle, Yorky," Dan said kindly. "you did a-plenty, an' I'm rememberin' it. Jim'll show you how to handle the gun, an' you got all outdoors to blaze away in. Now, I'm bettin' you wanta cut along an' show the boys."

"You win, Boss," Yorky grinned, and made for the door. There he paused to add, "I ain't forgettin' this--ever," and was gone.

"I'm thinkin' that li'l of Noo York has lost a citizen," Burke laughed.

"An' Rainbow gains one, thanks to Jim," Dover said.

"Rubbish," the puncher replied. "How long d'yu s'pose afore one o' them Wagon-wheel wastrels comes a-gunnin' for me?"

"But why?" they both asked.

"I rode my own hoss into the Bend; somebody must 'a' spotted it. I needed Nigger to make shore o' gettin' there before the train; I did it easy--the country bein' less difficult than I figured."

"It was certainly a risk, but you would have it thataway," Dan said, so seriously that the puncher laughed.

"Shucks! Fella who never takes one, takes nothin'," he rejoined. "Mebbe I'm wrong."

And when a week passed without anything occurring to disturb the serenity of the Circle Dot, it began to appear so. Every morning Yorky would depart for what the outfit called his "cure," the cherished rifle slapping against his pony's ribs. and would be absent for hours, frightening the birds, and making life a misery for any wandering jack-rabbit or coyote so unfortunate as to come within range, to return, tired but happy, and with a capacity for food which drew from the cook the ironical suggestion that he had contracted "Wur-r-ms."

"Gwan, yer human gas-bag," Yorky retorted, when the accusation was made. "I'm a small eater."

"Shure it's so, but ye pack away enough for wan twice the size o' ye," Paddy told him.

When late afternoon came and brought no sign of the boy, the cook grew anxious, and went to the foreman. "Faith, he'll not be missin' a meal willin'," he said.

Burke looked grave; it was no country for a tenderfoot to get lost in, and there was a possibility of accident. He told the cook he would send the men out again as they came in. Sudden, with Blister and Tiny were the first to arrive, and they set off at once for the pool, which yorky made the starting-point of his excursions. They found plenty of tracks, but it was impossible to tell which were the most recent.

"Spread out fan-wise, but keep within hail," Sudden said. "If he's hurt, whoever finds him may need help."

The ground was fairly open, with thickets of scrub here and there, most of them too dense and thorny for anything but a tough-hided animal to penetrate. Save for a brief glance, the searchers paid them no attention; neither Yorky nor his mount would fancy their exploration. The short, dried grass showed no marks, and Sudden rode straight on, trusting to luck. It came his way, for after they had left the pool several miles behind, a horseman loped from the far side of a larger patch of brush some hundreds of yards ahead, and at the sight of the newcomer spurred his pony in an evident attempt to escape.

Sudden shouted a command to halt, but no notice being taken, he spoke a word which galvanized the black into instant action; like a living thunderbolt, the animal shot forward, the ground sliding beneath the spurning hooves and the sound of them clearly reached the fugitive. A quick backward look, an oath, and something fell from his hand. Without slackening pace, Sudden swung down sideways, one legcrooked across the saddle, secured the object, and straightened up. A glance showed him that it was Yorky's rifle. He was now only a dozen yards away from his quarry; his hand went first to his gun, then to his rope. The coils spun out, the loop settled over the shoulders of the runaway, and the black stopped as though shot. Seconds later, the snared man was plucked from his seat as by a giant hand, to be flung heavily on his back. Sudden dismounted, his face pitiless. The other two cowboys, who had heard his shout, now came up.

"Why did yu run, Bundy?" was the first question.

"Didn't wanta git shot in the back," was the impudent reply.

"Didn't like yore own medicine, huh?" Sudden went on, and did not fail to note the flicker in the man's eyes. "Yu came damn near gettin' a dose, would have, if I hadn't wanted some information."

"Go ahead. Mebbe I'll give it."

"Mebbe you'd better; I've got ways o' persuadin' folk--ask yore friend Flint, if yu ever see him again. Yu can stand up on yore hind-legs an' shuck the rope. I don't s'pose yu'll try anythin' but I hope--yu will." When the man was on his feet, he added sharply: "Where did yu get that gun yu dropped?"

"Found it."

"Right. I'm lookin' for the owner, an' yo're goin' to help. Lead his hoss, Tiny--the gent prefers to walk."

"Me, walk?" Bundy protested angrily. "You can't do that."

"Not likely, but yu can," Sudden grinned. "An' I hope, for yore sake, we don't have to go far."

The prisoner's fury deprived him of caution. "How'n hell should I know where the brat--" He stopped, aware that he had been betrayed into a folly. The grim faces of the three men apprised him that he was in grave peril. An inspiration came. "Awright, I'll tell, though I promised not to," he said. "I met the hobo kid totin' that gun, which I figured he'd pinched. He sold it to me for twenty bucks--told me he was sick to death o' the West an' wanted to git to Noo York. Last I see of him he was makin' for the Bend."

Sudden stepped forward, snatched out the man's gun, and examined it; one chamber contained an empty shell. "I shot at a rattler--an' missed," Bundy explained.

Bleak eyes bored into his. "Another lie from yu an' I'll be shootin' at one, an' I won't miss," Sudden rasped. "Climb yore hoss; if we don't find Yorky, alive an' well, yu hang."

"Say, Jim, why not string him up now, an' if the kid's all right, we can come back an' cut him down," Blister suggested.

Bundy's expression became more uneasy; he knew that the proposal was not so jocular as it sounded; there was no mirth in the speaker's voice.

"There was nothin' the matter with him when we parted," he said. "I'm tellin' you."

"What yu tell us ain't evidence," Sudden replied dryly. "Lead on to where yu last saw him, an' if yore memory fails yu, pray--hard."

Grey-faced, the prisoner got into his saddle, and Tiny dropped the loop of the lariat over his shoulders again. He was trapped, and the only hope of saving his skin lay in finding that accursed boy. For this saturnine, black-haired stranger, who had thwarted him for the second time, had not the appearance of one to make idle threats. So he obeyed the order, conscious that, at the least sign of treachery, the drawn guns behind him would speak. Fifteen minutes later he halted his horse.

"It was somewheres aroun' here," he said. "Wanted the way to the Bend, he did, an' I told him to point for that block o' pines, an' keep goin'."

They reached the trees, dark and forbidding in the fading rays of the sun.

"He wouldn't go through," Sudden decided. "Which way round did yu tell him?"

"To the left," Bundy returned sullenly.

"We'll try the right--he may not have believed yu neither."

They circled the little forest, and had gone less than half a mile when the search ended; at the sight of the boy lying beside the body of his pony, Sudden rapped out an oath, and the grip on his gun tightened; the Wagon-wheel foreman was very near to death at that moment. Had not Yorky lifted his head...

"Jim," he cried. "I knowed yer'd come." His red, swollen eyes rested on Bundy, and then travelled to the new scabbard hanging on the puncher's saddle-horn. "Gimme my gat," he added hoarsely.

"Easy, son," Sudden replied. "What happened?"

The tale was soon told. He had strayed further than he intended, and had the bad luck to meet Bundy, who chased, roped, and threw him. When he stood up, he was knocked down again, despoiled of his rifle, and ordered to get out of the country for good, or he would be shot. "Then he killed pore of Shut-eye, the rotten, cowardly--" The quavering, high-pitched voice trailed off in a venomous string of epithets to terminate in a spasm of coughing.

"Yu didn't go," Sudden said.

"I started, but when he rid off, I come back--ter my pal."

Bundy saw the faces of his captors grow more and more rigid as the damning recital proceeded. He must say something, or wish the world good-bye.

"All lies," he said. "I bought an' paid for his gun, an' he asked me to finish off the hors--claimed to be scared the Bend folk might think he'd stole it."

"Blister, search the boy, an' his saddle pockets, an' see how much coin he has," the puncher ordered.

The cowboy did the job thoroughly, even making Yorky take off his boots. "One dollar an' two bits," Blister announced, when the operation was completed.

Sudden looked at the convicted liar. "Get down," he said. A turn of the wrist sent the noose clear of the captive's head, and the puncher coiled the rope as he walked towards him, and threw it on the ground.

"I've met up with some pretty scaly reptiles, but yu top the list, Bundy," he began quietly. "yu know this lad is in pore health, yet yu yank him out'n the saddle, beat him up, steal his gun, shoot his hoss, an' turn him loose to tramp to the Bend. Even if he knowed the way, with night comin' on, no food an' no blanket, it was a shore thing he'd never make it, an' yu meant he shouldn't. What yu aimed at was plain murder. Got anythin' against him, or was it just because he belongs to the Circle Dot?"

The foreman's face grew darker. "He's a dirty little snitch; it was him wised you up 'bout the Bend affair, an' lost me twenty-five thousand bucks," he growled. "Ain't that enough?"

Sudden was surprised, but did not show it. Where had Bundy obtained this information? Only he, Dan, Burke, and Yorky knew the inner history of the hold-up; perhaps the boy himself had boasted. Anyway, that problem could wait; there was a more pressing one on hand. He replied to the ruffian's question.

"Dessay yu've killed for less," he said acidly, and paused, weighing up the situation. "I oughta leave yu on a tree, but mebbe yu were a man once, an' yu shall have a chance to die like one." He threw Bundy's gun on the grass. "If yu get me, yu go free. Pick her up."

"An' be downed while I'm stoopin'," the other jeered.

"I won't draw till yo're all set," Sudden said contemptuously.

The promise--which he did not doubt--made the Wagon-wheel man think. To offer such a great advantage, his opponent must be infernally fast or a fool, and Bundy had good reason to know that he was not the latter. His confidence in his own prowess was shaken. Another thought came, a desperate expedient; if he could kill Green, he did not fear his companions--they would be taken by surprise and unable to act immediately.

He bent quickly, grasped the gun and, instead of rising, tilted the muzzle upwards and pulled the trigger. Even as he did so, Sudden--watching for some such act of treachery--drew and fired. Bundy's shot missed by a bare inch, and before he could repeat the attempt his weapon was driven from his grip by the puncher's bullet. He clawed for it with his other hand, but Sudden sprang in, kicked it away, and sheathing his own gun, cried:

"Stand up, yu yella dawg, an' take what's comin' to yu."

Bundy was ready enough; he knew that ninety-nine men out of a hundred would instantly have driven a bullet through him after the failure of his dastardly trick; he had been lucky to meet the hundredth; but with the passing of the shadow of death, his hatred of the man who had spared him increased. Truly, with some natures, a favour from a foe is a bitter pill to swallow.

Bandy had one more remark to make. "Them friends o' yourn keepin' outa this?"

"They won't be my friends if they interfere," Sudden said.

"Good enough," the foreman replied. His confidence in

himself was returning. He had a well-earned reputation as an

exponent of the rough and tumble frontier method of settling quarrels. "I've bin waitin' to put my paws on you for an interferin' houn'."

"Yu couldn't find me, o' course," Sudden sneered. "I bide my time. I got the kid, an' yo're here."

"Well, what are yu waitin' for, the dark, so that yu can run away again?"

The taunt got through the foreman's hide, tough as it was. "No," he bellowed. "Here I come," and rushed in with fists flying.

"An' there yu go," Sudden retorted, as he drove a lightning left to the face which sent the man reeling.

He staggered to his feet and fought back with blind fury, reckless of the hurt he received, driven by an insensate desire to get his enemy by the throat and slowly squeeze the life out of him. But he had little chance against one who used his head as well as hands; straight jolts to the jaw and body met his wild rushes, and battered down his feeble defence. Opposed to that scientific hammering, his savage lunges were of no avail.

Once only a swinging fist got past the Circle Dot man's guard, and floored him. But he was up instantly, and when Bundy, with a shout of exultation, dashed in, he was met with a tempest of blows which drove him back, foot by foot, until, with every bone in his body aching, and both eyes nearly closed, he dropped his arms. Only for a second, but like a flash, Sudden's right came over and sent him, spent and apparently helpless, to the ground. There he lay, breathing heavily, and making no effort to rise.

"I reckon he's through," Tiny remarked. All of them had watched the combat in silence. "There ain't a kick left in him."

Tiny was wrong; no sooner had he voiced the thought than Bundy's head lifted.

"yo're a damn liar," he mumbled through puffed lips. "I'm goin' to show you."

Incredible as it seemed, after the punishment he had taken, he heaved himself upright, shook as a dog might after rolling, and stood, long arms swinging. Then he bent and plunged forward. Sudden waited, wondering; there could be no more fight in the fellow, and yet ... The menacing figure was on him, fists raised, before he realized the fell design--he had but a second to act; the ruffian's right foot was sweeping up to deliver a savage kick in the stomach which might kill, or disable a man for life. Quick as thought, Sudden jumped aside, seized the ascending limb behind the ankle and forced it upwards. The foreman, thrown completely off his balance, struck the ground violently with the back of his head; this time, there was no movement. The victor cold, inscrutable, stood over him.

"Ain't bruk his neck, have you, Jim?" Tiny asked.

"No, that still remains for a rope," Sudden replied. "Put Yorky's saddle an' bridle on this brute's hoss."

Bundy heard the order, and had sufficient life left in him to understand what it meant. "You settin' me afoot--after this?" he snarled.

"Yo're gettin' a taste o' what yu cooked up for the boy, an' lucky at that--we oughta be plantin' yu."

The foreman knew it, and said no more. Not until they had melted into the growing dusk did he struggle, with many groans and curses, to his feet, and, carrying his riding-gear, set out on the nightmare journey to the Wagon-wheel. For to one who spent nearly the whole of his waking hours in the saddle, and whose body was one big bruise, the long march over rough ground could only be unspeakable torture.

Something of this was in the puncher's mind when Tiny reproached him for not settling the affair straight-away after Bundy's cowardly attempt had failed.

"I wanted him to suffer, an' I'll bet right now he's near wishin' I'd downed him," Sudden replied harshly. "After what he fixed up for Yorky ..." He turned to the youth. "Mebbe yu oughta go away for a spell."

"I'm stayin'," Yorky said stoutly. "Me an' that foreman feller ain't finished yet."

The puncher smiled into the darkness, glad of this fresh proof that his protege was game. "Well, keep clear o' the Wagon-wheel, though it bothers me how they got hep. Anybody see yu there?"

"I met Miss Trenton on th' way back," the boy admitted.

"She may've mentioned it, an' if my hoss was spotted in the Bend, that'd be enough," Sudden decided.--- The whoop of welcome which went up when the rest of the outfit saw that the missing one was of the party, broughta warmth into the waif's heart; these were his friends. In that moment the big city lost him for ever.

Chapter XII

Trenton and Garstone stared in undisguised astonishment when, in response to a summons from the former, Bundy came to the ranch-house in the afternoon. He had reached the Wagon-wheel about sunrise, almost dead on his feet, and dropping on the pallet-bed--he had his own quarters--slept like a log from sheer exhaustion. Despite his attempt to do so, he could not remove all traces of the terrible treatment he had undergone; the blackened, swollen eyes, gashed lips, missing teeth, and battered face told an eloquent tale.

"What in hell's happened to you?" Zeb enquired. "Been trampled on by a herd?"

The foreman had his version ready. "I was ridin' back last evenin' when I run into Green an' two o' the Circle Dot fellas. They come on me unawares, roped an' threw me, an' got my gun. Then they set about me--I'd no chance agin three, an' one of 'em that big chap they call Tiny. When I was all in, they went off with my hoss. I had to hoof it home, an' I warn't in any good shape for that neither."

The rancher's face grew purple as he listened; he took the affair as a personal insult. "Three to one?" he cried. "It's a fine thing if my men have to ask the Circle Dot's permission to ride the range. I've a mind to call the boys an' have it out with Dover an' his bullies right away."

"What would that get you?" Garstone asked.

"Somethin' I've sworn to have--the Circle Dot," Trenton replied.

"No, only a forty thousand dollar mortgage which you couldn't meet," the other returned coolly. "I don't suppose Maitland would be any more generous to you."

Trenton's bluster collapsed like a punctured balloon. "Yo're right," he said moodily.

"I usually am," Garstone agreed serenely. Modesty was not one of his weaknesses.

"If yo're worryin' over payin' my score you needn't to," Bundy growled. "I'll 'tend to that my own self--int'rest an' all."

"Touching the acquisition of the Circle Dot, we don't seem to be getting any nearer," the Easterner remarked sarcastically. "Have you made any progress?"

"Very little. Maitland might renew on the security of the two ranches, though we owe him quite a lot already, but that would only mean gettin' deeper in. No, we'll have to fall back on the plan I had in mind--to find Red Rufe's Cache."

"A tale for a tenderfoot?" the foreman fleered. "If that's our on'y hope, we can wish the Circle Dot a fond fare-youwell as' no error."

The rancher's face stiffened. "The thrashin' seems to have destroyed yore manners as well as beauty, Bundy," he said coldly. "You can go."

Like a scolded dog the man came to heel instantly. "Sorry, Boss, I was disappointed," he pleaded. "If there'd bin any-thin' in that yarn, the Cache would 'a' come to light by this; plenty has searched for it."

"True, but the Cloudy country is large and terribly difficult; unless one knew just where to look, findin' the proverbial needle in a haystack would be child's play in comparison."

"And you have this information?" Garstone asked eagerly. "Not quite, or I should have made use of it before now," Trenton replied. "This is how the matter stands: Red Rufe was Dave Dover's elder brother. He left Rainbow, went further West, an' made a fortune and reputation as a gambler. Report has it that he sent a letter to Dave, statin' that he had hidden his wealth, an' givin' the approximate location--said to be in the Cloudy Hills. A second message was to follow with instructions for findin' the exact spot. This one miscarried, an', quite by chance, came into my hands."

"So that's why Flint and Rattray visited the Circle Dot?" Garstone said.

"Certainly. I hoped they would find the first letter. Flint was on the track of it when he made a fool of himself an' got fired."

"Then you are not sure it is concealed in the Cloudy Hills?"

"No, but the fellow who fetched the first letter said Rufe handed it to him there; that's all anyone knows except--Dover."

Garstone made a gesture of impatience. "That means our knowledge is useless," he said irritably.

"yore wits don't seem to be workin' this afternoon, Ches," Trenton returned equably. "Listen: the Circle Dot needs money even more than we do; what do you suppose they will do?"

"Try to find the Cache, possibly."

"Certainly, 1 should say, an' in doin' so will give us the information we now lack," the rancher said triumphantly. "I'm havin' a watch kept on their movements, an' when they start, we'll follow. Once we know the locality, we have the advantage of being able to go straight to the hidin'-place while they are gropin' in the dark."

"That's a great scheme, Boss," Bundy complimented, his damaged features contorted in a painful grin. "If we can collect the pot, we'll have Dover an' his crowd yappin' for mercy--an' not gettin' it."

"It's undoubtedly a fine chance," Garstone admitted, and he was looking at the foreman when he spoke. "Any idea what the Cache consists of?"

"No one knows," Trenton replied. "Gold, in coin or dust, possibly paper too."

"What became of this Rufe person?"

"Vanished after the second message. Went back to his cardsharpin', I expect, an' got wiped out. He was a big fellow, very upright--his back was the only straight thing about him. He had red hair, like all the Devers, an' a fiend of a temper, the sort of man to make more foes than friends."

"We oughta be ready to set out on the word," Bundy put in. "How many will you want?"

"We three, with Flint, Rattray, an' another should be sufficient. We'll need plenty of supplies, an' a small tent for my niece."

"Takin' her?" Bundy asked in surprise. "It ain't a job for a dame."

"Nonsense," the rancher said. "Just a little trip into the mountains; she'll enjoy it. We shall avoid trouble, an' probably not encounter the other party at all."

The foreman was not satisfied, but Garstone did not support him, and after the earlier rebuff he was taking no more risks; this thing was too good to miss.

Garstone had not objected because the presence of Miss Trenton fitted in with his plans, already partly formed, but which were now beginning to expand more widely than either of his companions suspected, even Bundy, who was having thoughts of his own.

That same evening, at the Circle Dot, a very similar conversation was taking place. Dan, who had been to Rainbow earlier in the day, broached the subject.

"I had a talk with Maitland an' there ain't any possibility o' the bank givin' us an extension," he began. "Told me his people wouldn't hear of it, an' that--as a business man--he agreed with 'em. So that's that."

"An' there's no other way o' raisin' the wind?" Burke asked. "On'y one," the rancher replied. "We gotta find the Cache." The foreman's face was anything but optimistic. "It's one hell of a chance," he muttered.

"Bill, if yu were in a poker game, with the cards runnin' badly, an' had just one stake left, what would yu do?" Sudden said.

"Bet it, o' course," was the prompt reply.

"Shore yu would," the other grinned. "Well, that's our position. So what?"

"I ain't baulkin', Jim," the foreman returned. "I've bin up agin the iron before. Whatever Dan sez, goes, with me."

"I know that, ol'-timer," Dover said. "An' because I do, I'm goin' to ask a favour: I want you to stay here an' look after the ranch; I'll feel easier in my mind with you in charge."

Burke made a brave effort to conceal his disappointment; he would have dearly loved to make one of the search party, but he recognized that his employer was right--it would be more than unwise for both of them to be absent; the Wagon-wheel might seize the opportunity to try something.

"Very well, Dan," he agreed. "Who you takin'?"

"No call for a crowd," Dan told him. "I figure that myself, Jim, Tiny, Blister, an' Hunch oughta be plenty.""Hunch?" Bill said in surprise.

"Yeah, he knows the Cloudy district probably better than anybody around here, is a good woodsman, an' can cook an' make camp. We might take Yorky along to help--just as well for him to be outa the way till Bundy's bruises lose some o' their sting."

"When do you aim to start?"

"Soon as we can arrange things," Dan replied. "We'll want some stores, which I'll get in town to-morrow."

"An, no one must know a word about it, not even the rest o' the outfit," Sudden supplemented. "Also, we'll slide out in the middle o' the night."

The other two looked at him in astonishment. "What's on yore mind, Jim?" Dan questioned.

"Just this: the possessor o' the second part o' the directions don't know where to begin searchin', but he's on'y gotta trail us to find out."

"Holy Moses, he's right, Bill," the rancher cried. "We're a couple o' sheep-heads. Trenton may have this place picketed, an' be waitin' for us to move."

"We'll try to keep him waitin'," Burke grinned. "How long d'you expect to be away?"

"Can't say," Dan told him. "If we have any luck--but there's no sense in guessin'."

"Yorky'll be tickled to death over this trip," Sudden remarked. "How'd he get on with his new mount this mornin'?" They had not had their usual jaunt.

"Well, he got on, an' off in quicker time," the foreman twinkled. "Shore, it's a good little hoss, no vice in him, just a mite fresh. The boy warn't hurt, 'cept in his feelin's mebbe, an' he comes up smilin'. `That's first t'row to you, partner,' he sez. `Let's roll 'em agin.' He climbs on, an' gits piled, which makes him scratch his head some. But he's game. `Third time lucky,' he grins, an' by cripes, it was; we seen daylight between him an' the saddle pretty offen, but he hung on, an' it was the hoss got tired first. When the fun was over, Slow asked which o' the names Yorky'd called the animile he was goin' to choose. 'I'm namin' him "Dancer"--he's so damn lively on his toes,' the kid sez."

Sudden laughed. "Yorky's all right; he's goin' to bring good luck to the Circle Dot, mark my words. Yu do well to take him with us, Dan."

In the morning Dover journeyed again to Rainbow, and to the youngster's extreme satisfaction, took Yorky with him. Arrived there, they separated, the rancher to deal with various business matters, and Yorky to do as he pleased. His first visit was to the post office, where he mailed a letter, with many furtive glances around to make sure he was not observed. Then he went to finish his "shoppin'." This actually meant displaying himself in all his glory to young Evans, who was now assisting his father in the store. Yorky hung about outside the place until he saw that the boy was alone, and then, hat pulled over his eyes, and regretful that he had not brought his rifle, he swaggered in.

"Got any feed for a Winchester forty-four?" he enquired, making his voice as gruff as he could.

"Yessir," the youth behind the counter replied, diving into a drawer.

Yorky choked down a chuckle; he was not recognized. Casually he examined the packet of cartridges, tossed down a bill, and received his change. The young salesman noticed that the customer did not appear to be wearing a pistol, and, anxious to do business, ventured to ask solicitously:

"C'd I int'rest you in a second-hand six-shooter, sir?" yorky squirmed with delight--this was better than his dreams. "Dunno as I care fer other folks' leavin's," he replied carelessly. "I'll take a peep at her."

The gun was reached from a shelf and the customer revolved the cylinder, cocked and pressed the trigger, tried the grin, and hefted the weapon as he had seen cowboys do when examining a new one.

"What yer askin'?"

"Twenty dollars--the price is on the ticket."--- Yorky was aware of the fact. "I'd say fifteen's a-plenty," he said disparagingly.

"I'll see if Dad will take that," the salesman replied, and disappeared into the rear of the shop.

Yorky looked disconcerted; he had been showing off, and much as he would have liked to possess the weapon, had nointention of buying it. He was seeking a means of backing out without loss of dignity when Dover came in, and brought an inspiration.

"Say, Boss, c'n you let me have an advance?" he asked anxiously. "I've offered fifteen bucks fer that gun an' I'm shy th' coin."

Dan picked up the six-shooter. "She's good an' cheap at the figure," he said. "Here's the necessary."

"Thanks a lot, Boss," Yorky replied with great relief. "I didn't want ter eat dirt afore this kid. He don't know me; ain't it a scream?"

The "kid" returned and, after a very respectful greeting to the owner of the Circle Dot, addressed his other customer: "I can accept yore offer, sir. Will you be needin' any cartridges?"

"Them I got will do--she's a forty-four, same as my rifle," Yorky said, and paid over the price. "Yer needn't to wrap her up, an' yer can't int'rest me no more, neither."

He thrust the gun under his belt, pushed his hat back, and stood rocking on his heels. Goggle-eyed, the beefy boy on the other side of the counter gawped at him, remembered and suffered. The ragged, sick little tramp he had fought and beaten--as he maintained--had now beaten him, by becoming what he would have given his ears to be--a cowboy. He could strut into the store, and he--Evans--would have to serve and be polite to him; only a lad could plumb the bitterness of this. His job, of which he had been so proud, became as dust and ashes in his mouth. And then, unable to bear those triumphant eyes any longer, he bolted.

"I guess that levels up some with him," Yorky said. "I'll be outside."

"The durn li'l monkey," Dover muttered. "Fancy him thinkin' up a game like that."

The store-keeper came in, and his orders given, the rancher rejoined the boy. A little way along the street they met Fox-well, who stopped, his beady eyes alight with malice.

"'Lo, Dover, gittin' ready to quit the Circle Dot," was his greeting.

Dan suppressed a start. "Any reason why I should?" he asked.

"Well, everybody knows yore of man was up to his neck in debt, an' it's said now that the bank won't give you no more rope," came the insolent answer.

"Lies," Dan replied airily. "Big, fat lies which no respectable representative o' the Law should be passin' on. Lemme see, Sheriff, how long have you managed to hold office?"

The officer's not too acute intellect missed the innuendo. "Goin' on four year," he said, even rather pridefully.