Sudden Makes War

"Must 'a' died on him, 'bout here too. Thought you wanted this hombre?"

"Shore do, I'd like to flay him alive."

"Sam here, an' I ain't losin' a--Christ!"

The imprecation was succeeded by a blood-curdling shriek of terror, and then a second, dulled, like a weird echo, appearing to come from the depths below.

"What's happened, Rat?" Flint cried anxiously. "Where are you?"

A match spluttered in flame. Evidently the surviving ruffian was investigating. Then came a horror-stricken "Gawda'mighty!" and the pad of hurried footsteps dying away in the direction of the cave.

Sudden pawed about, managed to find and light his precious pine-knot, and then assisted the girl to stand up. She was unhurt, but trembling as one in an ague.

"He has died--a terrible death," she whispered. "Why did I come to this awful country?"

Sudden's reply had a touch of sternness. "Don't blame the country because there are evil men in it, they are everywhere, in the big cities as well as the small settlements. What has happened is just that one o' them has gone to the hell waitin' for him, an' the world is the better for his goin'. Now, we ain't quit o' trouble yet--we gotta find a way out."

His cold-blooded view of the tragedy steadied, if it did not convince her. They resumed their journey, the puncher slightly in advance, and keeping a wary eye for further pitfalls. Beth was silent for some time, and then asked:

"What do you suppose has happened in the cave?"

"Most probably yore friends are on top by this," he replied dryly. "Tiny and Yorky were out of it when I left, an' Dan was battlin' against three--big odds for any man."

"Why did you run away and leave him?" she demanded, and there was something of anger in her tone.

The darkness hid his grin. "I was scared," he said.

The answer, coming from one who had recently dared that desperate leap, was too absurd. "I don't understand."

"Scared you would suffer Rattray's fate," he told her.

The blood raced into her pale face, and she was thankful he could not see it. "Forgive me," she murmured. "You knew of that awful place then? I should have guessed there was a good reason for your leaving Mister Dover. You saved me, and I haven't even thanked you."

"I'd like yu to forget it, ma'am," he said, supremely uncomfortable. "Ain't that a blink o' daylight ahead?"

She failed to see anything, and small wonder, for it was still night outside, as the puncher well knew, but it served his purpose. Presently he noticed she was limping, and asked the reason.

It is nothing--just a bruise, when we fell," she explained. "Why didn't you leave me on the other side? Those men would not have harmed me."

"They were shootin', in the dark, an' might have hit yu," he pointed out. "Mebbe I took a risk, but there warn't much time to chew things over."

After another silence. "You could have warned Rattray."

"Did yu hear what they wanted to do to me?" he asked caustically, and when she could not answer, added, "They would have thanked me with bullets."

They plodded on, resting on the ground at intervals. Progress was tedious, for the friendly pine-knot had burned out, and they had to grope their way through the blackness. At length, however, Sudden was conscious of a freshness in the heavy atmosphere, and away in the distance there really was a spot of faint light. Beth saw it also, and it revived her flagging energy.

"An opening," she breathed. "Heavens, I feel as though I had been buried alive."

They reached it, and stepped out into the chill air of the dawn. They were on the side of a steep hill; the country below was shrouded in mist, and from out of it came the roar of a river.

Chapter XX

In the cavern, the battle was over. Tiny, smiting lustily, had held his own against Garstone and Lake until a wild shot from Bundy, intended for his own antagonist, struck the big cowboy above the knee and brought him down. Having first secured his six-gun, the released pair went to help the foreman, who was wishing he had taken on an easier task than the owner of the Circle Dot. Awakening to find himself already in Bundy's clutch, Dan had fought furiously. Hammered relentlessly, the attacker had to let go, and both pulled their guns. Dodging about in the uncertain light of a fire, however, does not make for good shooting, and beyond a graze or two, both were unhit.

"Best give in, Dover, we're three to one," Garstone urged, as he and Lake arrived.

"you can go plumb to hell," the young man panted.

They came upon him from all sides. He fired once, doing no damage, and then the weapon was struck from his hand. He had a glorious moment when he felt his fist smash into Gar-stone's lips, and that was the end; someone jerked his feet from under him, and though he continued a hopeless struggle, they soon had him bound and helpless. The Easterner, blood drooling from his gashed mouth, bent down, eyeing him with malevolent satisfaction.

"Well, Dover," he jeered. "You've made a pretty mess of things. But for you, we'd never have found this place. Thanks."

"Which takes in the pretty mess I've made o' yore face, I s'pose," Dan countered.

"No, I'll be showing my gratitude for that later," Garstone frowned. "After we've collected the dollars."

Dan managed a laugh. "Oh, I can wait; I ain't one o' them impatient fellas."

"What's a few hours anyway?"

"If you think Zeb'll talk that soon, yo're wrong; you did too thorough a job."

It was the other man's turn to laugh. "That's where you're wrong--he has talked," he said triumphantly. "I had the news I was waiting for last evening."

This time he scored. Dan understood; it was the girl who had brought this disaster upon them. In fairness, however, he could not blame her; she was on the other side, and he should have remembered. He had missed a bet.

"What's come o' the two men who were outside? Did you kill them?"

"Certainly not. We had to tie them up, and I fancy your aged lunatic got a rap on the head. You have yourselves to thank for any rough treatment."

"We can take it," Dan retorted. "I noticed you picked on the kid for yore share. Where's Green?"

The taunt penetrated the big man's skin. "I neither know nor care. When Miss Trenton lost her wits and ran screaming for that opening at the back of the cave, he appeared to lose his courage, and followed her. Two of my men went in pursuit, and have not returned."

Even as the words left his mouth, Flint staggered into the firelight. His labouring lungs told that he had been hurrying. "Well, did you get them?" Garstone asked.

"Get them?" the man repeated.

"Yes. Green and Miss Trenton."

"My Gawd! Was she there too? Funny, I had a notion Green was chasm' somebody; that explains it."

"Explains what, you idiot? Tell a straight tale," Garstone said impatiently.

"Me an' Rat was scrappin' with Green when, all unexpected, he grabs a chunk o' the fire, shoves it in our faces, an' runs hell for leather into that hole over there, with us on his tail. It's a kind o' underground passage, black as the inside of a nigger, but we could see his light dancin' ahead so we kept on. It was chancy work, runnin' in the dark, an' he was goin' fast. We couldn't gain any, so we spilled lead, but that didn't stop him. Then he seemed to slow down, an' his torch dropped an' went out."

Flint paused to draw a deep breath, and resumed, "Rat was a bit in front, an' called me to hurry. Afore I can git to him, there's an awful screech, follered by another, kind o' smothered, like it came from deep down. I yelled to Rat but got no answer, so I crept forward on han's an' knees, feelin' the floor in front till--there ain't no floor. I struck a match, an' I was kneelin' on the edge of a big crack, wide--an' deep? well, I'd 'a' figured it dropped clear to hell if I hadn't heard runnin' water below."

His ghastly effort to be facetious drew no smile from his audience.

"What do you suppose happened?" Garstone asked sharply. "I guess Green an' the gal got catched in the trap, an pore of Rat blundered in after 'em."

Garstone's face showed no emotion. "We'll look at this place," he said.

"Turn me loose," Dan pleaded. "I give you my word I won't try anythin'--I just wanta help."

"No doubt--help yourself," was the sneering reply. "Flint, you and Lake keep an eye on the prisoners, see that they don't `try anything.' You come with me, Bundy."

Armed with lights, the pair traversed the tunnel and reached the chasm. The foreman lowered his torch and pointed to some small footprints.

"She got as far as this, anyway," he remarked. "Obviously," Garstone agreed curtly.

He stepped to the brink of the rift and stood peering down into the abysmal depths, listening to the murmur of the subterranean river hundreds of feet below. Callous as he was, the vision of Beth, young, beautiful, instinct with life, hurtling to a dreadful death in the darkness chilled him. But the feeling soon passed; there were many other women in the world, and ere long, his crafty brain was considering how he might turn even this tragedy to his advantage.

"It would seem that Flint was right," he said. "A fine athlete could get over, if he knew the danger was there, but with the girl ..." He shook his head to complete the sentence. "Bad news for Zeb; she was his only relative."

"If he cashes, who gits the Wagon-wheel?" Bundy enquired. "I have an interest in it," Garstone told him. "I shall arrange with the bank to take over the ranch."

"Trenton ain't gone yet," was the sour reminder.

"True, but I do not think he will recover."

"Well, if he don't, an' you git the Wagon-wheel for the mortgage on it, you'll owe me somethin'," the foreman said brazenlyt

"Yes, I shall owe you a lot, Bundy, and I always pay my debts," Garstone replied. "Singular spot this; I should say that anyone so unfortunate as to fall in there, would never be seen again, alive or dead. Well, we can do nothing; let's get back."

The foreman was more than willing; his companion's tone made him uncomfortable. One who accepted the tragic loss of his lady-love so cold-bloodedly would have little hesitation in sending a man he feared to keep her company. Garstone, physically, was more than his match if it came to a tussle. So, until they were well away from that gaping black gulf, Bundy carried his torch in the left hand, keeping his right close to his gun.

The cave was as they had left it, save that the early light of day was stealing in. Flint and Lake were busy at the fire, preparing breakfast. The captives sat or lay in a group apart. Garstone went to inspect them, something in the manner of a conqueror. The sentries had been brought in.

"Sorry to find you in such bad company, Malachi," he said.

"I couldn't prevent you and your friends, coming," the doctor retorted. "Did you discover anything about Miss Trenton?"

"I am afraid there is no hope," Garstone said. "I imagine that, fleeing down the tunnel in a distraught state of mind, the approach of Green--also running away, these gunmen are all cowards at heart--would seem like pursuit and hasten herdestruction. He also appears to have perished, for which I am sorry; a rope would have been a more fitting end."

"You quite shore they weren't killed by yore toughs, an' that Flint's yarn isn't just a cover-up?" Dan asked, adding with a reckless disregard of the fact that the man was one of his gaolers, "Lyin' is the thing Flint does best."' The big man turned away without answering, and went to where Trenton was lying. Dan got a poisonous glare from the receiver of his compliment, but that did not worry him. The bottom had dropped out of his world, and though he tried to persuade himself this was due to the loss of his friend and ranch, he knew it was not so; a dark-eyed slip of a girl, with an oval, slightly tanned face, and firm lips which could smile so sweetly, meant more than all. He had striven to erect a barrier between them, and, so far as he was concerned, had failed. And now, Death had done a better job. He could see that slender young body, battered and broken, the plaything of some rough torrent in the dark depths of the earth. He closed his eyes in an effort to shut out the picture, and groaned. "Hurt, Dan?" Malachi whispered.

"Yeah, but it's somethin' you can't cure, Phil."

The doctor understood. "Don't give up hope yet," he consoled. "I've a lot of faith in Green."

"That's th' talk, Doc," Yorky chipped in. He was next the rancher. "Jim'll show up--he'd git outa hell if th' lid was on. Me? I'm awright; th' big stiff knocked me cold, that's all. One day he'll come up agin a feller his own size an' run like a scalded cat."

Garstone, who had returned in time to hear this unsolicited testimonial, kicked the author of it savagely in the ribs. "Keep your dirty tongue still, you city vermin," he flared, and to Malachi, "I am releasing you to nurse Trenton. Come over now, I don't like the look of him." He cut the doctor's bonds, and added, "If you take any other advantage of your freedom, you'll be shot."

Malachi's eyes were blazing. "Garstone, if ever I have the pleasure of performing an operation upon you, I shall forget my profession and do the world a service," he said. "Meaning you'd murder me, eh?"

"Yes, but I should call it an `execution.' "

Garstone's laugh was ugly. "No wonder Zeb is not getting better," he fleered.

The wounded man was motionless, eyes closedt The doctor turned down the blankets, examined the wrappings, and felt the pulse.

"He's no worse," was his decision.

"But he hasn't got his sense back," Garstone expostulated. "He opened his eyes just now and didn't know me."

"Which might indicate that he had," Malachi said caustically. "I am doing all I can to remedy your foolish blunder--if it was one."

"What the devil do you mean by that?" Garstone demanded. "By God, I'll--

"you know what I mean, and your threats don't frighten or interest me. The Almighty gave you a fine big body, and by a mischance put into it the soul of a louse."

Turning on his heel, he walked back to his companions, leaving the Easterner white with fury, and yet a little afraid of this quiet-spoken, acid-tongued man who defied him so openly. The fellow knew too much, and must be dealt with. The approach of Bundy gave him an idea.

"Just been talking to Malachi," he remarked carelessly. "He seems to think his patient will pull through."

"Good," the foreman replied, trying to speak as though he meant it. "I hope he's right."

"You have every reason to, for if Trenton doesn't recover it becomes murder, and as the doctor knows who fired the shot, his evidence would be--awkward."

Both fear and suspicion were in the look Bundy darted at the speaker."How in hell--?" he began.

"I didn't tell him, my friend," Garstone interposed. "These scientific gentry have their methods, and the nature of a wound may tell them much. Did you have anything to say to me?"

"The boys wanta know when we start searchin' out the gold."

Garstone did not reply at once; recent developments had altered the situation. Now that he found himself practically sole possessor of the secret, he was not eager to unearth the booty. His cunning brain had been busy with the idea of securing the whole of it for himself, but he could see no wayno safe way. He had told his followers that he could find it, and if he did not .... So he replied jovially:

"No time like the present, there's plenty of light now. Get the men and the tools."

Walking to the centre of the cave, he gazed up at the dark, domed roof from which hung scores of stalactites, like gigantic icicles their points sheathed in steel by the incoming daylight. They were of varying size, and one--almost in the middle--exceeded the others in girth and length.

"The finger of the ages, indeed," he mused. "Strange; nature toils for millions of years to make this marvel, and a gambler uses it to mark his hoard--I hope." And as the men came up, "We'll try here."

Flint, stepping forward with his pick, glanced up. "Hope the shock won't shake that damn spike down on me," he grinned.

"You needn't worry, it would take an earthquake, and a big one at that, to shift it," Garstone assured him.

The man swung the tool, brought it down, and dropped it; the resounding clang of metal upon rock was followed by an oath from the striker, whose arms were jarred to numbness. Lake took up the pick and tapped all over the spot indicated; in no place did it penetrate more than an inch or so, and he threw it aside in disgust.

"That ain't no use--giant powder's what we need," he said.

"Shore you got the right location?" Bundy asked.

"Certain," Garstone replied, with a confidence he was far from feeling, and not unmindful of the doubtful looks directed at him. "Clear the muck away and let's have a view of this rock."

This was done, exposing an uneven stone floor which promised little. Garstone was puzzled. Was there a further clue which Trenton had not mentioned? He did not know, but the demeanour of his companions was beginning to disturb him. Flint flung down the spade he had been using and commenced to roll a smoke.

"Wonder how long it took the fella to dig a hole here?" he speculated.

"Mebbe he found one ready," Lake suggested. "Then he'd just have to plant the dinero an' ask the rock to kindly grow over it."

Bundy laughed sneeringly, but the sarcasm brought a 'glint into Garstone's eyes. "Even the bray of an ass may be useful," he snapped, and, snatching off his hat began slapping the cleared space vigorously, sending the dust flying in clouds. The others watched his antics in amazement, fully convinced that ,he had suddenly gone mad. On his knees, he studied the ground closely, and then rose.

"I was right," he said exultingly, and pointed to a crack which the displaced dust had revealed. "There's a loose piece, and I'm betting it's the lid of the treasure-chest."

This magically renewed their activity. Bundy seized the pick, drove the point into the crack, and threw his weight on it. A small, roughly rectangular section of the floor moved. Flint went to the foreman's assistance, and they managed to lever up one side. Garstone bent, got his fingers under the raised portion, and with a mighty heave overturned what proved to be a flattish slab of stone. Beneath was a shallow hole, and in it a stout rawhide satchel. At the sight Flint let out a whoop and made a grab, but the big man pushed him back.

"Hands off," he said. "The first thing is to find out what the contents are, and it is for me to do that."

He lifted the satchel, and undid the two straps by which it was secured.

"It's heavy, but not so large as I expected," he said, but went no further with the opening; his gaze was on the place from which he had taken it. "You were right, Lake, that's a natural hollow. All he had to do was find a lid to more or less fit; the dust would do the rest. A perfect hiding-place--it mi ght have remained undiscovered for a thousand years."

"Seein' it ain't, s'posin' we git on with the business," Bundy suggested impatiently.

Garstone had to comply. Squatting round, their avid gaze following his every movement, the others waited. He might have been a conjurer, about to perform an intricate trick, and perhaps the fear that he would was at the back of their minds; honour among thieves is only proverbially prevalent. Their attention entirely occupied, they failed to see Malachi creep round the wall of the cavern, glance at his principal charge, and slip out.

Garstone's hand came from the bag holding a short roll of paper which, unwrapped, revealed, a row of golden coins. Hecounted them, and the musical chink as they dropped from one hand to the other, set the eyes of his audience aflame. "Fifty yellow boys--double eagles--a good start," he announced. He rolled them up again, and reached out a second, so obviously a replica of the first in size and weight that he did not trouble to open it. One by one, similar packages appeared until a score were stacked beside him on the ground. The men were breathing hard, so absorbed by the fascination of a visible fortune as to render them an easy prey had the prisoners been free. The lure of the gold held them; they could not wrench their eyes from it.

"Twenty thousand bucks," Bundy said thickly. "That bag ain't empty yet."

"I'm aware of the fact," Garstone replied, "But the dollars should more than satisfy our claim, and the rest belongs to Trenton."

"To hell with Trenton," the foreman growled. "We found, an' we keep it."

"That goes," Lake added. "Out with it--Boss."

The last word was a palpable jeer, and Garstone knew it. He looked at Flint, but saw no support in that quarter. There was nothing for it but to continue. A thick wad of paper currency came next, bills of large denomination mostly, all of which had to be duly counted; they amounted to forty thousand dollars. Then, two at a time, Garstone handed out small buckskin bags, heavy, and tightly tied. He opened one, and gloated over the yellow dust within. Gold! His lips curled into a sneer as he reflected that men had sweated under a blistering sun to fill those bags, only to throw them away on the turn of a card. The men passed them round, hefting them, and grinning widely; they were in high good humour.

"Can't tell what they're worth without scales, but I'd guess all o' ten thousand," Bundy remarked. "We can take three apiece."

Garstone began to replace the treasure in the satchel. "It will be handier to carry in this," he said. "We can divide later, after cleaning up here."

Rather to his surprise, they made no protest, and the fact caused him some inquietude. Had they a secret understanding to obtain his share? Well, that was a game at which more than one could play. He looked round. "Any suggestions for dealing with our friends yonder?"

"Send 'em to look for Rattray," Bundy proposed.

Garstone, who saw at once that such an infamous act would leave him at the mercy of his companions, promptly objected. "I am opposed to violent measures unless they are necessary, and safe," he said. "This would be dangerous--very dangerous. No, when wee go, they will remain--alive. Of course, they will free themselves, but with no weapons or horses, and three sick people to tend, it will be -a long time before they return to Rainbow, and then it will be too late--our story will have been told, and we shall be in possession."

"You don't suggest we should burden ourselves with a dying man?"

"Shore not, but we gotta do some explainin'."

"Quite simple," was the reply. "We came in search of the Cache, and found it. The Circle Dot--of whose presence in the mountains we were, of course, ignorant--attacked and tried to rob us. They killed Trenton, his niece, and Rattray. We beat them off."

"Straight as a string," Flint grinned.

"How come they wiped out the gal?" Bundy wanted to know.

"She tried to escape in the fight, Green pursued her, and they ran into trouble."

"Which fits the facts," Lake put in. "Yo're a pretty neat liar, Garstone; I gotta hand it to you."

The Easterner forgot to thank him for the compliment, but did not fail to note that the fellow had regained his air of insolent familiarity; it was another danger-signal.

"What's come o' that damn doctor?" Bundy asked. Garstone strode over to the prisoners. "Where's Malachi?"

"Haven't a notion, an' if I had, I shouldn't tell you," Dan replied.

"Sore, eh?" the big man gibed. "So would I be, after sitting on the top of seventy thousand dollars for over a week, and losing it." His contemptuous gaze went to the trussed-up form of Yorky. "Makes you hunger for your open road again, doesn't it, hobo?"

The boy did not reply--he had no desire to be booted--but as the bully turned away, he muttered, "Aw, go an' swalleryoreself an' be sick, ye . . ." He trailed off into a brief biography of Garstone, whose origin, appearance, habits, and future were luridly described.

"If cussin' would help, you'd be a whole team an' a spare hoss," was Dover's dry comment, when the tirade ended.

"It eases a fella some," Yorky excused. "Do you figure th' Doc has skipped, Boss?"

"He's no quitter," Dan told him.

"What they goin' to do with us?"

"Can't say. Scared, son?"

"I dunno," Yorky admitted. "Couple o' months back I wouldn't 'a' cared, but now ..." He was silent for a moment. "A man must take his medicine, Jim allus said."

The disappearance of the doctor caused some consternation, to Bundy in particular. Flint and Lake were despatched to find him, and Garstone seized the opportunity for a quiet word with the foreman.

"Splitting the dollars four ways doesn't help our plans," he commenced meaningly. "We won't have enough between us to get the Circle Dot, much less the Wagon-wheel."

Bundy realized that he was needed. "They ain't done much," he said. "Oughta be well satisfied with five thousand apiece."

"That or--nothing," Garstone said deliberately. "You agree?"

"Shore I do," was the reply. "Nothin'--for choice."

The men under discussion came in at that moment. "Can't find a trace of him," Flint reported. "We combed the gorge thorough. All their horses is gone too--they had 'em picketed further along; looks like someone stampeded 'em."

"That cursed sawbones," Bundy exploded. "Wish I'd put his light out earlier."

"Well, they won't see the horses again, and it's a long walk to Rainbow," the Easterner said. "But it makes one difference: with that fellow at large, we can't leave Trenton here."

Chapter XXI

Beth sat down; daylight was a very welcome experience after the long lack of it, and she was terribly tired. Soon, however, sex asserted itself, and the task of neatening her appearance occupied her. Sudden too, inured as he was to physical exertion, found a rest acceptable; sitting cross-legged, he rolled a cigarette, wondering the while where the twistings of the tunnel had brought them. On their right towered the great head of Old Cloudy, and far away to the left the sky glowed faintly red, telling of the coming sunrise. Below, a sea of purple mist eddied and swirled.

The girl was studying this grave-faced, saturnine man who, having saved her life, had not hesitated to risk it again in the presence of another threat. The memory of that fearful leap sickened yet thrilled. What were they to do now? She put the question.

"Wait till it clears lower down," he said. "I reckon we've both had enough o' walkin' blindfold."

"I am anxious to get back to my uncle," she pointed out. "I shall never forgive myself for running away."

"Natural enough--yu been raised different," he excused. "The cave can't be far off; we'll find it."

"You think they will remain there?"

"I reckon," he told her, a wisp of a smile on his lips. "They won't find that Cache, 'less Trenton has talked, which ain't likely."

"He did talk--to me, though I don't think he knew I was there," she confessed. "I told Mister Garstone."

"The devil!" His bleak expression alarmed her.

"My uncle needed that money urgently," she explained.

"So did Dover, an' he had a right to it, which Trenton did not," Sudden said sternly. "Red Rufe was Old Man Dover's brother."

The statement shook her, but she was loyal to her kin. "Then I am sure Uncle Zeb was ignorant of it."

"For years it has been common knowledge in the town."

"My uncle would not do anything dishonourable," she replied stubbornly.--

"If that goes for his men, mebbe it's no good tellin' yu some-thin' else," he returned. "Trenton was shot from behind." Her eyes flamed. "I don't believe it; you're just trying to prejudice me, and whatever I may owe you--

"Which is nothin' a-tall," he broke in. "Ask Doc Malachi." And as if to end the matter, "There's somethin' worth lookin' at."

Away on the eastern horizon, the grey had given way to a rosy glow, deepening towards its source, the flame-red disc of the sun, moving majestically up from behind the rim of the world. A growing golden light spread its radiance over the earth, softening the harsh outlines of crag and cliff.

"It's wonderful," the girl breathed.

"Shore is," the puncher replied. "Pity we humans can't grade up to the beauty o' the universe we live in."

"Some of it is ugly," she protested.

"On'y where man has interfered," he said cynically. "All nature has beauty of some kind."

"When I came to Rainbow we crossed a hideous desert, nothing but sand, cactus, and desolation."

"See that same desert by moonlight an' it'll beat the finest picture yu ever saw--if yu ain't thirsty," he added whimsically. "That scurry 'pears to be on the move; we'll start."

Side by side, they set off down the slope. The coarse grass, dotted with patches of greasewood, stunted mesquite, and cactus, made progress difficult and speed impossible. Before they had travelled far, a harsh warning rattle sounded, and from a bush just in front of Beth, a repulsive flat head shot up and swayed back to strike. Almost before she could cry out, a flash and roar came from her companion's hip and the reptile subsided, its head smashed by a bullet. Sudden drew out the empty shell, reloaded, and holstered the weapon. The girl stared at him in amazement.

"You were--so quick," she murmured, speaking her thought. He grinned at her, and, in that instant, seemed almost boyish. "No time to waste when Mister Rattler goes on the prod--he's a fast worker."

"I have--to thank you--again," she said.

"Shucks," he replied impatiently. "I sorta got yu into the mess, an' it's up to me to look after you."

This brought Dover into her mind. She would never understand these Western men; they resented any expression of gratitude, and could even be rude about it.

He had picked up the still quivering body. "A biggish one. Would you like his rattles?"

"Heavens, no, I hate snakes," she shuddered. "They are of no use, surely."

"The buttons? In Virginia the niggers make bracelets of 'em; they're claimed to keep off evil."

"I should have brought one when I came to Arizona," she said bitterly.

When they continued the journey, he went in front, "to deal with varmints," but they encountered no more, and presently reached a level ledge of short grass. By this time the first slanting rays of the sun were splitting the mist into filmy, opalescent veils which rose and melted away, revealing that they were on one side of a deep canyon, the walls of which dropped sheer to a tumbling, riotous river hundreds of feet below. It seemed likely to Sudden that the stream they had jumped in the tunnel might empty itself into this one, so the broken body of Rattray could be returning to Rainbow.

"Where now?" the girl asked.

"We'll follow the canyon, east, an' get around this hump," he decided. "Then a twist to the north should fetch us somewhere near the cavern."

They tramped on, pausing only to drink at a rivulet which crossed their path. But the hump was succeeded by more high ground, steep and brush-clad, an insuperable barrier which pinned them to the canyon-side. They spoke little, but once or twice, to take her mind from the fatigue he knew she must be enduring, the puncher remarked on the marvel of the painted walls of the gorge, purple, green, brown, and red, brilliant beneath the burning rays of the sun, and the grotesque pinnacled and turreted masses of grey rock which served as a background.

"Yes, it's all very lovely," she sighed, and tried to smile. "But it only proves that even beauty can breed monotony. I'd give it all for something to eat."

"We'll have breakfast right soon," Sudden told her. "Wait here; I'll be within call."

He plunged into the undergrowth. After a while she heard the crack of his revolver, and he reappeared carrying a young rabbit. She watched interestedly as he lit a fire, deftly skinned the animal, and toasted it on pointed twigs. Again she was impressed with his competency. The meat proved delicious, and the ice-cold water of a nearby rill, completed the meal.

"You have done that before," she complimented, as they set out again.

"Shore," he agreed. "There's been times when I've had to live on the country for days. We could have tried that rattler." She shivered. "But no one eats snakes."

"Yu ain't never known real hunger," he smiled. "I've been told rattlers is pretty good grub. In Texas the wild hawgs hunt 'em, an' I'll bet they don't do that for fun. White men eat frawgs an' snails, an' pay high for the privilege."

The long looked-for break in the barrier appeared at last in the form of a gully. They turned into it eagerly, but, though taking them in the right direction, it was not--as Sudden soon divined--the one leading to the cave. For one thing, it was narrower, and much cumbered with boulders and rank growth of thorn and cactus, difficult, and at times, painful, to penetrate. Also, they had lost sight of Old Cloudy, a fact Sudden did not like.

"Take a rest," he said, pointing to a fiat stone. "I'll scout around an' see if I can pick up a landmark."

He thrust through the scrub, and by the movement of the foliage she saw that he was climbing the wall of the gully; he seemed to be made of steel. She herself, though the food had given her new strength, was exhausted, and glad enough to sit down. She fell to musing on the few moments of panic which had brought such misfortune upon her, and others. One man had died horribly, and perhaps her uncle, lacking her care, had . She would not think of that. Her thoughts came back to her companion in this astounding adventure. She hoped he would not be long, for while she still regarded him as one of the enemy, he created a curious sense of confidence, and the prospect of facing the wilderness alone was terrifying. Her reverie was shattered by the clink of iron against stone, and an amazed expletive.

"My God! it's Beth!"

The familiar voice brought her to her feet. Garstone was staring as though unable to believe his own eyes. Springing from his saddle, he ran to her.

"My dear girl, how in the world do you come to be here?" he cried. "Bundy, Miss Trenton has returned to life."

The foreman, followed by Lake, rode up. "Mighty glad to see you, Miss Beth," he said, but there was no warmth in tone or look. "We figured we'd lost you for good an' all."

"We certainly did," Garstone agreed. "How did you escape?"

She gave a brief account, and concluded, "We are trying to find the cave."

"Where is this fellow?"

"He went to look for a way."

"Get under cover, you two; we'll nail him when he comes back," Garstone ordered.

Too late, the girl remembered that Green belonged to the Circle Dot. "He saved me from death, and must not be touched," she protested.

"He forced you to go with him in order to drive a bargain with us." Garstone invented. "Also, he is your uncle's foe, and therefore should be yours."

"Does my life mean so little to you?" she demanded.

"No, but I am not going to let emotion blind you to the truth. That man is a killer; in all probability it was he who wounded Zeb."

"The truth," she cried. "Is it that Uncle was shot by one of his own men, and that Red Rufe was the brother of old Mister Dover?"

"Both are lies," Garstone said evenly. "I see that Green has made good use of his opportunity. You have sealed his fate."

She saw it was hopeless. "Where is Uncle Zeb?"

"Not far away; Flint is taking care of him."

Bundy and Lake had already concealed themselves, and their leader was on the point of doing the same when Sudden stepped from the bushes. A glance, and his guns were out, one of them covering the Easterner.

"Tell yore men to come out, with their paws high," he ordered. "You have one second to choose between that an' hell, Garstonet"

The eyes of the speaker were chips of blue ice, and the threatened man did not hesitate. He called out, and the hidden pair emerged, biceps cuddling their ears.

"Where's Flint?" Sudden asked the girl.

"I've not seen him," she replied. "I'm told he is attending my uncle."

"An' yu believe it?"

It was Garstone who answered. "Of course she does. Isn't it natural that Trenton should be with his own people?"

"Who left him with his enemies when it suited their purpose," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "Well, Miss Trenton, yu remainin' with yore own people?"

"Certainly. I wish to be with my uncle."

Sudden nodded, and backed into the middle of the gully, his guns menacing the three men. "I s'pose yu've stolen the dollars, Garstone, but don't get too brash, mebbe there's another trick to be tabled yet."

The big fellow's wooden face had changed. "I think, perhaps, you are right," he replied. "We want him alive, Flint."

At the same instant, the girl--eyes wide with dismay--uttered a warning, "Behind you."

Sudden spun round in a flash, and fired. Flint, who had crept upon him unperceived, had his gun out and was in the act of pressing the trigger; the bullet ploughed up the ground a few yards in front of him, and with a howl he dropped the revolver and grabbed a smashed elbow.

The puncher swung his weapon back on Garstone, but that astute person had moved to Miss Trenton's side, and he dared not risk a shot. So, with a scornful laugh, he turned and charged at the wounded man, who, having no stomach for the encounter, jumped away. It was an unlucky move; a gun roared and Flint went down, a bullet in his brain. Sudden sprinted along the gully; he was not pursued.

"Why the devil did you shoot Flint?" Garstone asked angrily, as they gathered round the fallen man.

"He run into it--I was tryin' for Green," Bundy explained. "Damn raw work--he was a coupla yards off," Lake jeered. "I thought you could shoot."

"I can, an' I'm ready to prove it." Threateningly.

The bearded man was not to be bullied. "Right now, if you want," he growled.

Garstone interposed. "Cease squabbling; we're few enough as it is."

"Yeah, three to divide instead o' four," Bundy leered.

"Four in place of five--Miss Trenton takes her uncle's share'," the big man corrected, and the look which passed did not escape him. "Speaking of Zeb, we can't now leave him in the old camp; you two must fetch him."

"Like hell we will," Bundy retorted. "An' you wait here, I s'pose?"

"No, that would ruin our plans--we should arrive in Rainbow too late," was the cool reply. "Also, with that cursed cowpuncher at liberty, we may lose all we've gained. Of course, if Trenton should be dead, you can catch us up."

The inhuman suggestion was not lost upon the pair of rogues. They did not fancy leaving this fellow with the booty, but holding a poor opinion of his courage, they felt confident that they could force him to keep faith. They agreed, and Garstone rejoined the girl, who was impatiently awaiting him. As he expected, her first question was respecting her uncle.

"The journey was tiring him--a rest was imperative," he explained. "Flint stayed too, and the poor fellow was doubtless here to report when that scoundrel Green slew him."

"Green fired once only, and crippled Flint's arm," she said. "The fatal shot came from Bundy."

"Is that so?" he cried, in affected surprise. "Bundy, of course, would be aiming at Green; Flint was unlucky. I didn't see it; I was so concerned about you--"

"I noticed it," she said coldly. "You were saying?

"I am sending the two men back to bring your uncle."

"Don't we accompany them?"

"No, we have to go on." He saw mutiny in her eyes and chin. "It is of vital importance to Trenton, and his wish, that we should get to Rainbow with all speed. You won't mind spending a day or so in the forest with me, Beth, will you?"

"I very much mind further separation from Uncle Zeb," she fenced.

"It cannot be helped," he replied, a touch of hardness in his tone. "I have a duty to him, and intend to fulfil it."

Which highly virtuous sentiment produced less effect than he had hoped. However, she said no more. Truth to tell, physical weariness, anxiety about the old man who had been good to her, incipient doubts, and a sense of disappointment in one she had almost decided to link her life with, had, for the time, broken the girl's spirit. Certainly, Garstone's welcome had been less warm than she expected, in fact, at that first moment of meeting, he might have been sorry to see her. She told herself that this was absurd, that the shock of encountering a person one had mourned as dead would be numbing, but the feeling remained.

Having disposed of the dead man, Bundy and Lake prepared for their journey. The girl watched them impatiently as they stowed food in the saddle-bags. Fortunately for her peace of mind, she could not hear their conversation.

"Think we can trust him?" Lake asked.

"No, but I guess we can handle him if he double-crosses us," the foreman replied. "An' mebbe we'll catch 'em."

"Totin' a sick man?" Incredulously.

"I didn't say that."

Lake digested this. "Even then they'll have a good start."

"Oh, yeah," Bundy grimaced. "Garstone an' the gal are both from the East. How long afore they lose theirselves?"

"An' our money."

"We can trail 'em, an' there's going to be on'y two sharin'you an' me, Babe?" Bundy rasped. "Then the Circle Dot an' the Wagon-wheel can go to hell. I'm for California. With seventy thousand bucks--between us--we don't wanta fool with cattle."

Lake regarded him through narrowed lids; he had noted the interjected words, and they gave material for thought. But all he said was, "Sounds good to me."

When they had gone, Bundy having pointed out, tongue in cheek, the route Garstone should take, the latter returned to his companion. He was in a much more cheerful mood.

"Well, that's that," he said, "I'll get a fire started, and I hope you can cook--we'll have to fend for ourselves. This isn't the way I hoped we'd begin housekeeping together, but we'll get along."

She did not respond to his elephantine playfulness, and his clumsy attempts to help prepare a meal only reminded her, oddly enough, not of the efficient cavalier she had parted from, but of his friend, Dan Dover. Would he be pleased she had not perished, even though she was a Trenton? She stifled the thought resolutely, and busied herself brewing coffee.

Chapter XXII

The bound men in the cave watched the preparations for departure and wondered what was to happen to them. They saw the wounded rancher carried out, and Dan's protest that he was not fit to be moved was ignored. When their weapons and stock of provisions were also taken it began to look grave. A remembrance of Sudden's description of the gulf in the tunnel was not comforting. When all was in readiness, Gar-stone strolled over, and stood, contemplating Dover with malignant contentment.

"You have lost everything, or nearly," he said. "Treasure, ranch, and paid gunman; only your life remains. Well, I give you that; violence is not to my liking."

The suave, insolent voice made the young man indifferent to consequences. "Yo're tellin' me," he flung back. "Even when you rob a train, you pick the safe job--the men on the engine ain't never armed."

It was a guess, but a good one, and the gibe went home. But Garstone was a winner, and could afford to laugh; he did not.

"Keep clear of Rainbow, if you're wise," he warned. "And if you meet Malachi, tell him my promise will be kept."

"He won't believe me," Dan replied.

Garstone shrugged away the insult and looked at Yorky. "And you, get back to your sewer, you rat."

"Rats has teeth an' can bite," the boy spat out, and waited for the expected kick.

It did not come and, despite his hardihood, Yorky breathed more easily when the bully had vanished through the exit from the cave. He was silent for a time, wresting with someproblem, and then asked, "Does the mails from theseyer hick towns ever git lost?"

"I reckon, now an' then," Dan replied. "Why?"

"Ain't heard from me uncle in Noo York--"

"Don't you pull that stuff on me, son," the rancher cut in. "Hello, who's that?"

A slight figure had slid cautiously into the cave; it was Malachi. "So the buzzards have flown," he greeted. "And how are my patients?"

"Yo're one shy--they took Trenton," Dan told him. "Damnation! it will probably finish him," Malachi exploded, and busied himself with their bonds.

"They've also collared our food, weapons, an' I s'pose, hosses."

"No, I set them adrift--thought it was a bright idea at the time, but afterwards I wasn't so stuck on it," the doctor said ruefully. "I forgot they'd be lost for us, too."

"you did yore best, Phil, an' there's a chance some will drift back. Grub is goin' to be the worry--we'll have to trap. By the way, Garstone said for me to tell you he would keep his promise. What was it?"

"Oh, nothing of consequence," Malachi smiled. "I was to be shot if I made any use of my liberty: Just a bluff."

He went away to attend to the hurt men, and the rancher's eyes followed him with a new expression. "A bluff. Huh? But you had the nerve to call it, Phil," he said softly.

After a while the doctor came back. "They're both going on well, but I can't understand Hunch," he reported. "That crack on his skull isn't serious, but it seems to have destroyed his memory."

"What, again?"

"Odd, isn't it? But he failed to recognize me, and appears to have no recollection of the Circle Dot, or how he came to be here."

"Mebbe the big axe would start his rememberin' machinery," Dan suggested.

"I tried that, but he just stared as though he'd never seen it before. Physically, he's perfectly sound."

"Well, Tiny'll keep us tied here for a spell," the rancher said. "Hi, Yorky, rustle some fodder for the fire; I'm goin' to see if I can knock over a cottontail or two."

"We'll be awright when Jim comes along--he's got his guns."

"He'd shorely be a cure for sore eyes," Dan replied moodily. He could not share the boy's confidence.

"Stranger things have happened," Malachi said. "The blackest moment is the turning-point, you know."

Meanwhile, the man of whom they were speaking was not many miles distant. The gully in which the Wagon-wheel party had surprised him was, he had discovered, considerably east of the one he was making for, but with Old Cloudy in sight again, he had a mark to steer by. He did not fear pursuit; they had the treasure. He wondered where was Trenton. Behind, perhaps, in the charge of Flint. But how were they transporting him? His mind went to his late fellow-traveller. A nice girl, he admitted, but somewhat lacking in savvy.

"Young women is apt to take a fella at face-value," he mused, and then came the cynical addition, "Wouldn't take 'em a-tall if they didn't, I s'pose."

Sudden was no misogynist, but so far the fair sex had not figured largely in his life. He was to meet his fate, but the time was not yet.

He trudged on, crossing ridges, threading arroyos, circling thickets of impassable brush, steadily advancing towards the mountain. The sun was still high in the heavens when, in a strip of sandy soil, he noticed hoof-prints. They pointed eastwards, and a careful scrutiny revealed five different sets. The prints of his own horse, Nigger--which he could recognize at a glance--were not among them.

"Four riders, one of 'em Garstone," he deduced, "an' a pack-hors. Or mebbe they've distributed the baggage an' tied Trenton on the fifth."

The the tracks were not those of his friends he was quite sure. Exactly what had happened to Malachi and Hunch he did not know, but he had seen Tiny shot down, and it was most improbable that he would be able to sit a saddle so soon.

He set himself to follow the trail, and at the end of an hour's hard work reached what he knew must be the deserted Wagon-wheel camp. Standing in a small grove of trees, and sheltered by a cliff, was a canvas tent; only the presence of awoman could account for such a thing in that place. The ashes of the two fires were cold. Hanging from a branch was most of the carcase of a newly slain deer. He stepped to the opening of the tent and peeped in. A man, swathed in blankets, was lying on the floor. The puncher did not need two guesses--it was Zeb Trenton.

"The murderin' swine," he muttered. "They leave him here, helpless, an' to cinch it, hang a bait outside that would fetch any mountain cat gettin' scent of it." He bent over the rancher. "Trenton, it's Jim Green."

The eyes remained closed and there was no movement. Sudden seized one of the ice-cold hands; a faint flutter of the pulse informed him that the flame of life still flickered. A quantity of stores, flour, bacon, coffee, caught his eye, and the packages seemed familiar. With them, guns and six-shooters, thrown in an untidy pile on the ground. He picked up one of the rifles; it was Yorky's prized Winchester, and he understood; this was the loot from the cavern. What had become of his friends? Only in one way could he find the answer, and, granite-faced, he set out, carrying his own rifle--which he had found among the rest, and the boy's. Exhausted and hungry as he was, his magnificent muscles did not fail him. Moving with the effortless swinging stride of an Indian on the trail, he crossed the basin, and entered the gorge. Apprehension grimmed his mouth as he approached the cave.

"Hello, the house," he hailed.

"It's Jim," he heard Yorky yell. "Didn't I tell yer he'd make it?"

The boy was the first to reach him, closely followed by Dan and Malachi. Judged by the standards of the East, their welcome was little more than casual, but Sudden was a Westerner himself, and he understood.

"Jim, I'm powerful glad to see you," was what the rancher said, but the clasp of his hand told a great deal more. And so with the others, but they all wanted to know what had befallen him.

"Well, we got away--" Sudden began.

"We?" Dan cried. "Then Beth--Miss Trenton--is alive?"

"Shorely," the narrator smiled. "Tryin' to find a way back here, we ran into Garstone--"

It was the doctor who cut him short this time. "See here, Jim, we like you a lot, but you'll be as unpopular as a drunk at a temperance meeting if you don't tell a complete story."

"Shucks, I'm doin' just that," the puncher protested. "I caught the girl in time--there was a bit of a crack in the floor o' the tunnel. Flint an' Rattray started shootin' an' I had to get her outa there."

"How did you cross that bit of a crack?" Malachi demanded. "I was looking at it a while ago; it nearly froze my blood."

"Jumped it, o' course; think we growed wings on the spot?" Sudden replied, and divining the coming question, added, "Well, she warn't so heavy."

"My sainted aunt," Malachi breathed. "How many lives have you, Jim?"

"I started level with a cat, but mebbe I've used up a few," the puncher grinned.

"All right," the doctor smiled. "Get on with your--bragging."

"Like I said, we got clear an' bumped into the other crowd. Garstone told Miss Trenton that he had her uncle safe an' she decided to stay with 'em. He tried to persuade me, but I warn't willin'. Then Flint objected to my goin' an' I had to argue with him; his arm was hurt."

"Bruised, no doubt," Malachi commented ironically. "Mebbe," the puncher agreed. "He jumped aside when I charged, an' Bundy shot him in the head."

"Why'n hell--" Dover began.

"He'd claim to be aimin' at me, though I was six feet from Flint; it was either mighty good, or mighty bad, shootin'. Now I'm comin' to the important part; I wanted to tell you right off, but Doc would have his dime novel." He grinned at Malachi. "I'm headin' for here, as near as I can guess, when I stumble on tracks. I back-trail an' they lead me to the Wagon-wheel camp. There, inside a tent, is Zeb Trenton."

"Alive?" This from the doctor.

"On'y just, I'd say."

"They left him alone. Why, it's plain murder."

"Yu said it--'specially the way things was fixed," Sudden agreed, and told of the deer-meat.

Dover's face grew dark. "We can trump that trick, anyway,by fetchin' him here," he said. "You were goin' to suggest that, Jim?"

"yeah, the more so as they seem to 'a' got our stores an' weapons there. I didn't see no hosses."

"They never got 'em," Dan said, and explained.

"Well, yu can't have everythin' in this world o' sin an' sorrow; we'll have to hoof it." He looked at the big cowboy, who, squatting near, was energetically cursing his crippled limb. "If I leave yu my rifle, Tiny, can yu deal with any visitors?"

"Betcha life, an' I hope it's that dawg's-dinner of a Wagon-wheel foreman."

"Don't let yore prejudice blind yu to the merits o' Garstone an' Lake," was Sudden's sardonic advice. "What is it, Yorky?"

"Is my gun among them at th' camp, Jim?"

The puncher shook his head, but th' boy's crestfallen expression was too much for him, and he pointed to the weapon, lying with his own, where he had laid them when he came in "Guessed yu'd be losin' sleep over it," he smiled.

Yorky secured the gun, examined it anxiously, and then appealed to the others. "Ain't he th' ring-tailed wonder o' th' world?"

"Yu wanta hang a weight on that tongue--it moves too easy," Sudden said, and closed him up like a clam.

On their way across the basin, the rancher--by what he regarded as artful questions--dragged a few more details from his companion.

"So she ain't believin' Zeb was got by one o' his own gang?"

"Well, she didn't exactly call me a liar, but it amounted to that," the puncher admitted.

"A Trenton never listens to reason," Dan said, but the accent of bitterness was less marked. "It musta been a tough experience for one with her raisin'."

"She's got plenty pluck--an' didn't complain, not once, but she don't like rattlers."

"You shore do surprise me," Dan grinned.

They dropped into a silence. Behind them they could hear Yorky chattering excitedly, and the doctor's amused and sometimes caustic replies.

"That boy's havin' the best time of his life," the rancher remarked presently. "I'm havin' my worst. I'm right sorry I dragged you into this, Jim."

"Forget it. Did yu promise me a picnic?"

"No, but I'm finished; this was my ace in the hole. The Circle Dot--"

"Ain't changed han's yet. I don't know what Garstone's game is, but he's clearly reckonin' Trenton out of it. If we can take him back alive, it'll put a kink in his plans that'll need straightenin'."

"By the Lord, yo're right," Dan cried, and with a grim smile, "I never dreamed a day'd come when I'd wanta keep Zeb outa hell, but it shore has. Hope we ain't too late."

To Sudden the camp appeared just as he had left it, except that he could not remember having olosed the flap of the tent. He went across, raised it, and looked inside, only to start back in astonishment. The rancher was still there, rolled in his blankets, but a few feet away, lying with arms flung wide and sightless eyes staring, was the bearded man, Lake. A revolver lay near Trenton's right hand, which was slung across his body.

"They came back then," Dover said.

This explanation did not satisfy Sudden. The doctor, after one glance at the dead man, turned his attention to the rancher.

"He's alive, and certainly no worse; in fact, his pulse is stronger," he pronounced. "He must have the constitution of a horse."

Sudden's eyes were busy. "Lake wasn't shot here; see the marks of his spurs as he was dragged in and put in position to make it appear Trenton killed him? Raw work, but whoever did it reckoned on some wild beast comin' to muss things up. I'd say Bundy an' this hombre came back--mebbe the girl insisted--an' she's waitin' with Garstone."

With a scowling brow Dover allowed this to be a possible solution of the mystery. "If that bloody-minded foreman is around, the sooner we get Zeb to our camp the better," he said. "Do we have to bury this carrion?"

The puncher lifted his shoulders. "I'm allowin' it's rough on the buzzards, but there's a spade handy."

So Lake got his grave. Stout saplings, with cross pieces, and a blanket provided a litter for the sick man. Sudden and Dover acted as bearers, the other two following with weapons and provisions, including a haunch of the deer-meat. Theyleft the tent standing, an object to spur the imagination of some future visitors.

They reached the cave without incident, and having announced their arrival loudly--Tiny had an impulsive and suspicious nature--marched in. The crippled one welcomed them with an eagerness not entirely free from personal regard.

"Food!" he yelped. "You Yorky, git busy with a skillet an' some o' that hunk o' meat; my belly's that flat you could slide me under a door."

"Doc sez yo're feverish an' gotta go light on grub," the boy chaffed. "Mus' take care, ol'-timer; breakin' th' sad noos to yer widder--"

"I ain't married none."

"Good as--the school-marm would feel like one," Yorky grinned, and, nimbly avoiding the rock heaved at him, went to his culinary duties.

Trenton having been made as comfortable as circumstances permitted, the party sat down to a meal they all needed. Tiny, after pushing about half a pound of broiled venison into his mouth, spluttered a compliment:

"You cook pretty good, yorky. If you live to be a hundred, an' practice reg'lar, you'll come mighty close to Paddy at slingin' hash." He choked and had to be thumped on the back.

"Serves you right for talking with your mouth full," Malachi told him.

"Not full, Doc, or there'd be none fer us," Yorky chipped in.

The conversation took a more serious turn when Dan raised the question of what they were to do. "With hurt men an' no hosses, we 'pear to be hawg-tied," he said.

"How long would it take one of us to reach the Circle Dot?" the doctor asked.

"Best part of a week, if he knowed the country," Dan stated. "It's fierce travellin' afoot."

They discussed the project for a while, but the rancher did not favour it. "Where's the use?" he argued. "I guess we've lost the Circle Dot anyways. Best stay here an' give our invalids a chance."

Soon afterwards they turned in, leaving Yorky--who was to take the first watch--sitting at the entrance to the cave, his rifle across his knees. With the potential presence of an assassin in the neighbourhood, no risk could be run.

In the morning, when the doctor visited his principal charge, he received a pleasant surprise: Trenton was conscious, and could speak.

"You, Malachi?" he greeted. "Where am I?"

"In our camp. But you mustn't talk."

"I must--I've a lot--to say," the sick man replied, with a touch of his old fire. "What happened--after Bundy--shot me?"

"You knew that?" Malachi cried.

"I saw his hand--grippin' the pistol--behind me. That was my--last memory. I-- His voice trailed off weakly.

"Let it wait, Trenton," the doctor urged. "You'll get well, but are pretty bad still, and must rest."

"I can't--unless I know. It won't harm me--to listen."

Stonily silent, the wounded man heard a brief recital of what had taken place. Only when Malachi concluded somewhat bitterly, "So your friend Garstone is safely on the way back to Rainbow with your niece and the plunder," did his expression change; fire flamed from the cavernous eyes in the emaciated face as he said hoarsely:

"My--friend--Garstone. Doc, you must patch me up--strong enough to get to Rainbow--an' settle with that doublecrossin' hound an' his murderin' tool, Bundy. I'll obey any orders, meet any bill--"

"Never mind that," the doctor smiled. "you're better, and I hope I haven't set you back telling you this."

"I'll rest easier," the rancher assured. "It wasn't all news. I was awake when Green found me; didn't know what he was after, so I shammed dead. Later on, Bundy an' Lake arrived, an' I played the same trick on them; Bundy had his gun out." He paused for a moment. "I lay limp an' still; he shook my shoulder, lifted my hand--which was cold--an' let it fall.

" `He's cashed,' I heard him say.

"They went outside an' Lake suggested plantin' me, but Bundy wouldn't agree. They quarrelled, there was a shot, an' Bundy dragged Lake's body into the tent an' dumped it on the floor.

"'One from three leaves two,' he said. `Now it's between me an' you, Mister Garstone--the gal don't count. As for you, Trenton, I'm sorry yo're dead. For years you've hazed me, an' I wanted to squeeze the breath out of your rotten carcase with my hands. May you roast in the hottest corner of hell.' With that, he drove a boot into my ribs, an' I didn't know anythin' more till this mornin'."

Trenton sank back with a sigh of relief; the story had called for an heroic effort. Malachi was concerned.

"I ought to be kicked myself," he said contritely.

"Don't think it," the old man said. "you've given me some-thin' to live for, an' by Heaven I'm goin' to live." A ghost of a grin trembled on the thin lips. "Appetizin' smell from somewhere."

"Yorky is stewing some of that deer. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat it raw."

The doctor's negative was emphatic. "You may have some of the broth," he conceded.

"All right, broth goes," the patient said resignedly.

As Malachi continued his "round"--as he termed it, he met Dover. "How's Trenton?" the young man asked.

"Conscious and hungry," Malachi smiled. "He knows the facts, and is wise to Garstone and company."

Dan's eyes rested dismally on the hole where the treasure had been. "Help me put that stone back, Phil; it makes me damned mad every time I see it," he said.

Chapter XXIII

Garstone had hoped that the despatch of the two men would satisfy the girl, but in this he was disappointed. His suggestion of an immediate start produced only the plea that she was tired--which could not be gainsaid--and needed a rest.

"But you will be riding," he protested.

"Is that so easy in these hills?" she parried. "Apart from that, I wish to wait until my uncle joins us."

Garstone concealed his anger; he alone knew how futile her desire was. "It means a loss of precious time for no useful purpose--Zeb could not possibly travel at the speed we must go "

"I should see him, and be sure he is getting better," she persisted.

"It will probably retard his recovery to find us here," he retorted. "If I know Zeb, he will be absolutely furious."

This was a powerful argument; she was well aware that the old man had all the Trenton temper. "What is the reason for the urgent haste to reach Rainbow?" she queried.

This was the question he had been waiting for. "Do you remember my telling you how important the finding of the treasure was to your uncle?"

"Yes, you said it meant keeping or losing the ranch."

"That's the position. The Wagon-wheel and Circle Dot are both deeply in debt to the bank. The mortgages expire in a few_days, and if the money is not paid, the bank will sell the properties."

"But surely Mister Maitland--"

"A branch manager--an insignificant cog in a machine," Garstone said contemptuously. "Had Zeb or I been there, something might have been arranged, but in our absence ..." He finished with an expressive shrug

"I see," she said. "Of course, you found the money?"

"Good Lord, fancy forgetting to mention it," he laughed.

"Yes, we found it, thanks to you, and there it is, strapped to my saddle. About seventy thousand dollars, enough to clear the Wagon-wheel and realize Trenton's dearest ambition, the purchase of the Circle Dot."

"Mister Dover may not wish to sell."

"Possibly, but the bank will," he replied. "We have that young pup where the hair is short."

She was silent, disturbed by a sentiment she did not trace to its source. In spite of his rudeness, she could feel no animosity towards the red-haired young rancher, and no satisfaction in the prospect of his humiliation and ruin. She did not want to dwell on it.

"Uncle Zeb should be very grateful to you," was all she could find to say.

This gave 'him an opportunity to strike another blow, lest she should still be obstinate. "Oh, I'm no philanthropist," he smiled. "I'm working for myself too. You see, when I came toyour uncle, I put all I possessed into the Wagon-wheel, taking a third share. I am not anxious to be a pauper--especially now--but that's what I'll be if we reach Rainbow too late."

She stood up. "We will get away at once," she told him. "I did not understand how much depended on us." '

"Of course not," he rejoined. "These matters of finance are not for pretty heads to worry over, but you're a true Trenton--you have to know, and then you see it through, sink or swim. That's the quality I most admired in Zeb."

They set off. Garstone dispensed with the pack animal, deciding that they could carry sufficient supplies without it.

"Shouldn't take us more than a couple of days," he said. "Bundy gave me the direction."

Quick-witted as he believed himself, it had not occurred to him that the foreman might designedly have pointed out a much longer route than was necessary, and he certainly did not realize that finding a path through the tangled mass of up-ended country which lay ahead of them was no task for a "tenderfoot."

Two days after the rancher had been brought to the cave, Sudden and Yorky were returning along the gorge from a hunting expedition, the spoil being the most toothsome portions of a young buck.

"Say, Jim, this is th' life, ain't it?" the boy said jubilantly. He had shot the deer, under his companion's guidance, and it was his first. "I don't care how long them cripples takes gittin' well."

"Yo're a selfish li'l devil," the puncher replied, with a severity which was only on the surface; he had planned that the lad should love this outdoor life, as he did himself. "So you want Dan to lose his ranch, an' them crooks to win out, huh?"

"Cripes! I didn't think," came the hasty denial.

His companion was not listening--to him. From somewhere near had sounded the call of a horse. Sudden uttered a long, low whistle, and waited. A crash in the undergrowth, and out stepped his own mount--Nigger. An instant it stood, looking at him, and then, with a little whinny, trotted to his side and rubbed its muzzle on his sleeve. The puncher pulled one of the soft ears.

"Where yu been, yu black rascal?" he asked. The animal's head dropped, as though it sensed reproof in the tone, but lifted again when a shrill neigh came from behind; two other horses were standing in the open. "C'mon," the puncher ordered. "Yore va-cation is over; we'll collect them playmates o' yourn afore long."

With never another glance round, Nigger followed its master like a docile dog.

This acquisition greatly improved the position of the party. That afternoon, Sudden rode away carrying three ropes on his saddle-horn. He made no attempt to guide his mount, riding with a slack rein, and, as he expected, Nigger went in search of its companions. In a grassy glade about a mile from the camp they came upon four. Sudden ran down and roped three of them, tying each as it was secured, and after a busy couple of hours, returned with his unwilling captives.

"I got yourn, Dan, Yorky's, an' the big roan that lets Tiny stay on him," he reported, with a grin. "I'll try again tomorrow, an' yu might have a look round their camp; they must 'a' let some go."

So the morning found the rancher combing the neighbourhood on the other side of the basin. He unearthed, and caught two ponies, one he believed to be Trenton's, and the other--still saddled--he surmised to have belonged to Lake. On his way back he stopped at the camp, got down, and entered the tent. Everything had been taken away, no, not quite everything, for a gleam of yellow caught his attention. He picked up the object, an oval locket of gold. From within, a face smiled at him, familiar, yet not the same, and older; a relative, no doubt.

He slipped it into a pocket--he would send it to her. He frowned at the thought that he might have to address her by another name. Well, she would still be a Trenton. And Zeb? He could have left him there to die, but the Dovers fought fairly, even against a treacherous foe. He did not want, or expect, thanks.

"It'll hurt the of devil more the way it is," he reflected.

Arriving at the cave, he found that Sudden had been equally

successful, so their remuda was complete. The question of when they could start for home was the subject at supper. Everything depended on Malachi's report.

"You're all right, Hunch, aren't you?" the doctor asked.

The old man looked up, nodded, and went on feeding. But for his bandaged head he appeared much the same, save that he did not know them, and the big axe, once so carefully tended, was now stained and rusty.

"Possibly Tiny could sit a horse," Malachi said doubtfully.

The cowboy's protest was instant and emphatic. "Say, Doc, I could ride afore I could walk. With one leg an' two arms, I'd stay on top of a blizzard."

"That leaves Zeb," Dover said.

"He's picked up wonderfully, and is in a fever to go," the doctor admitted. "I fancy it may do him just as much harm to wait. With short stages and long rests, we might manage it."

"Ain't there a nearer way, Dan?" Sudden questioned.

"Yeah, we took a twisty trail comin' to fog any who might follow. That place you struck on gettin' outa the tunnel must 'a' been Rainbow Canyon. The stream tannin' through it forks a piece along, an' the right arm is our river. If we keep by that, I reckon we'll cut down the distance quite a bit, which would make up for slow-movin'."

It was decided that,' if the rancher were no worse, the journey should begin in the morning.

Chapter XXIV

Dame Fortune was frowning upon the foreman of the Wagon-wheel. On the morning after he had left the lifeless body of Lake lying in the tent, and set out hot-foot in pursuit of Gar-stone, a calamity which threatened to thwart his schemes befell him. Slithering down the sandy side of a ravine, his horse trod on a loose rock, lurched and went over, Bundy jumped clear, landing on hands and knees. He rose with an evil look, grabbed the rein and savagely jerked at it. The beast struggled to regain its feet, but could not, one leg had snapped. With an oath the man pulled out his gun and sent a bullet crashing into its brain.

"Damn an' blast the mouldy luck," he growled, as, carrying his saddle and rifle, he resumed his way. "Satan hisself must be workin' for Garstone, but I'll beat him yet."

Further reverses were to come. His own cunning--after the manner of a boomerang--returned to hit him; the roundabout route he had foisted on the Easterner now meant weary miles afoot for himself. And since the cattleman's fondness for humping a saddle is about equal to that of the Devil for holy water, a few hours saw the article hurled into the brush with a curse.

He had little difficulty in following the trail, for Garstone had not the skill to conceal it. This ignorance, however, frequently drove the foreman to frenzy, for the big man had blundered through places hard for a horseman, and doubly so to a pedestrian. Often also, Bundy found himself tramping long miles which he knew were taking him no nearer to Rainbow.

"Hell burn him," he muttered. "I told the fool to head for the sun, but if he's goin' to do it allatime, he'll finish where he started."

Four days passed, and in the early afternoon another blow fell--he lost the trail. It had led him to the verge of a large pine forest. There were no hoof-prints, right or left, and he could only conclude that they had kept on through the gloomy aisles of the trees; but the deep mat of pine-needles would retain no tracks. He spent hours circling the forest in the hope of finding where they had emerged, but without success. Sitting down to rest, he arrived at a decision.

"I'll get me to the Wagon-wheel an' deal with Mister Gar-stone there. Anyways, thirty-five thousand is a sizeable stake, an' mebbe ..." A sinister scowl ended the sentence, and then, "The Rainbow River comes out'n these hills. I gotta find it; I'm fair sick o' traipsin' this Gawd-damned wilderness."

He picked up his rifle and blanket-roll containing his scanty supply of food, and set out, heading south-east. An hour later he was standing on a high bench screened by bushes, whence the ground dropped abruptly, flattening as it reached a great crack in the surface which he guessed to be Rainbow Canyon. He was about to descend and verify this when a horseman came in view. Bundy swore, and ducked under cover; it was Dover. Peering through the sheltering foliage, he watched Tiny, Hunch, and Yorky follow, with a pack animal. Then, after a brief interval, Malachi, with a companion at whom the foreman gazed with bulging eyes.

"Trenton," he whispered, as though afraid they might hear though they were nearly a thousand yards away. The man he had left for dead, riding to Rainbow, with his--Bundy'senemies. Trenton would know all, the murder of Lake, and his own duplicity. The completeness of the catastrophe stunned him. But stay, the rancher might have been unconscious during that last visit to the tent. But if not, they would hang him in Rainbow; Trenton would see to that. It was too big a risk to run.

"I'll have to close yore trap, Zeb," he growled. "Anythin' you've told them others don't signify, an' Garstone can't prove nothin'. But this ain't the place; I gotta have a good getaway.

Rifle in hand, he slunk along after the unsuspecting travellers below, his callous brain at work. With the rancher silenced, he must again seek Garstone.

"Couple o' slugs'll give me the dollars an' a pair o' hosses to carry me out'n the Territory," he told himself. "My luck must 'a' turned or I'd 'a' walked right into Rainbow to git mine."

Considerably cheered by this reflection, he began to watch for a suitable spot. He had no difficulty in keeping up, for the quarry was moving slowly. Presently he noticed that the bench was dipping and bringing him nearer to his target. Gripping his rifle in feverish eagerness, malignant eyes on the man he meant to slay, he suddenly saw the opportunity slipping away. The horsemen had reached a point where the walls of the canyon closed to within forty yards of one another and abruptly widened again. This narrow gap was spanned by a natural bridge of rock, bare, and offering no cover. If they decided to cross this, trailing them would be well-nigh impossible, the land on the far side of the river being open, and almost treeless, offering few chances' of concealment. As he had feared, they turned.

The sight spurred him to action; it must be now or never. The passage across the gulf was narrow, the surface rough; they would ride it in single file. This would give him time to get close--there must be no mistake. He scrambled down from the bench, fighting his way through the scrub until he reached the edge. There he knelt, panting, weapon levelled; he was only two hundred yards distant.

"I'll hold off till they're all over," he decided. "If any o' the rest git curious, I can send 'em after Zeb, one at a lick."

He watched them negotiate the bridge, singly, as he expected, and his lips drew back in an ugly snarl of satisfaction when he saw that Trenton was the last. Sighting full at the broad, bowed shoulders, he steadied himself and pulled the trigger. Through the smoke of the discharge he saw the rancher fall forward on the neck of his horse, which, startled by the report, leapt onwards.

"Got him," he gritted.

Even as he spoke, two quick reports rang out; a bullet shattered twigs just above his head, and a second smashed into the breech of his rifle and ruined the mechanism. With an oath he threw aside the useless weapon and turned his eyes to the right, whence the shots had come. A black horse was thundering down upon him, and the rider, standing in his stirrups, was assiduously pumping lead from his Winchester. Sudden, staying behind with the idea of obtaining fresh meat, had come on the scene just as the assassin fired.

The foreman shivered; he hated, but also feared the hard-featured puncher who had thrashed him so severely. In the moment of triumph, he had met disaster. He must do something. Escape through the brush was hopeless against a mounted man, he would be ridden down, trampled under those iron hooves. The drumming beat grew louder, bullets were humming past his ears; in a moment or two . .. A desperate device suggested itself. The widening of the canyon below the bridge brought the rim of it within a hundred yards. If he could reach that, the cowboy's horse became useless; they would be on equal terms.-- Keeping under cover as long as possible, he then abruptly swerved into the open and raced for the canyon, zigzagging to avoid being picked off. He reached the edge safely, saw, some fifteen feet below, a narrow ledge running along the rock face. A break in the rim enabled him to clamber down and breathe again; he could not be seen from above.

So quickly had the whole affair happened that when he looked across the canyon the rancher's companions were only then lifting him from his saddle. But a bullet which chippedthe cliff below showed that he had been observed. It would also tell the pursuer where he was. Bundy pulled his gun.

"If Green follers me here, I'll nail him," he grated. "An' with his hoss an' rifle ..."

During the brief suspense, doubt crept in. His foe was fast--terribly fast. Bundy remembered that other time, when a lightning draw had foiled a foul trick which few men would have survived, and death had stared at him out of grey-blue eyes. What was it like to die? The violent jarr of the bullet, seconds --perhaps moments--of merciless pain, and then--nothingness. The look of blank amaze on Lake's face returned to him. Would he too--? He strangled the thought. His mind raced. Seventy thousand bucks; there must be a way.

A fiendish look told that he had found one. Changing his gun to his left hand, he picked up a chunk of rock with his right, leaned limply against the cliff so that the missile was hidden, and waited. The scrape of slipping boot-heels on a hard surface warned him that the puncher was descending. A moment and he appeared, six-shooter levelled. The foreman's face was a pasty yellow; he made no attempt to raise his weapon, seeming to be exhausted.

"Don't shoot, Green," he cried hoarsely. "I give in."

"Chuck yore gun towards me, an' put yore paws up," Sudden said sternly.

Bundy obeyed, lifting the left arm only. "Can't manage the other," he whined. "Damn bronc fell, bustin' a leg an' my collar-bone. I had to finish him."

The story was plausible enough; the man was apparently minus mount and rifle. All the same, the cowboy was not convinced. Unhurriedly he moved forward and half-stopped to lift the surrendered weapon. Like a flash, Bundy's "injured" arm flew up and down. Too late, Sudden detected the action and straightened; the great stone struck him on the chest instead of the head. Reeling back under the force of the blow, he lost his foothold on a slippery incline and vanished into the abyss.

Bundy, beads of cold sweat on his forehead, heard a shout of rage from the distant spectators, but no bullets came. Wondering at this, he secured his revolver, and creeping to the edge of the ledge, peered over. What he saw nearly sent him after his victim. Twenty feet below Sudden was clinging to a dwarfed mesquite growing from a tiny cleft in the rock. For a moment the astounding sight paralysed him; then, with a blasphemous imprecation, he prepared to deal the finishing stroke. Sudden saw the threatening muzzle, and nerved himself for an effort of despair.

"Might as well go one way as another," he muttered.

He still had his left-hand gun, and hanging by his right arm only, he swept it out and drove a slug into the evil, gloating face above just as Bundy fired. Sudden felt the wind of the bullet, and then saw the ruffian's body dive past him into the depths. But he was not out of the woods yet. His friends were coming to help him, but an upward glance told that they could not be in time--the root upon which his life depended was loosening. He looked down; there was another bush a little lower, in a direct line; if he could grab that as he fell ... Far below, he could see the red-brown river raging along the bottom of the canyon, hurling itself at the jagged, tooth-like boulders which strove to bar its progress.

Grim of face, he let go, felt the air whistle in his ears, then branches struck him, and he clutched; the bush withstood the shock of his weight. Arms aching until it seemed they must leave their sockets, he dangled there, and waited for aid. It seemed long in coming. Actually, as they told him later, Dan, Hunch, and Yorky were on the ledge less than ten minutes after the daring drop. His first news of them was the loop of a lariat which slid past his face. Slipping his weary arms through, he was hauled up, bruised, but little the worse.

"Shore, I'm all right," he replied to Yorky's shaky enquiry. "Injuns think a lot o' the mesquite; I'm agreein' with 'em. Did he hit Trenton?"

"No, Zeb 'pears to have collapsed just as Bundy fired--the journey's takin' it out of him, an' there ain't much to take," Dan replied. "Thought we'd lost you, Jim. How come?"

"He fooled me--good an' proper," Sudden confessed, and told about it.

When they rejoined the others, Trenton had recovered, and was chaffing at the delay. He scowled at Sudden. "So you wiped out Bundy? I wanted him myself, an' I don't thank you," he said.

"Did I ask yu to?" the puncher retorted, and rode on.

"By God!" Tiny swore. "Next time Jim sees someone taking' a pot at you he'll let 'em git on with it, I reckon."

Trenton asked curtly what he was talking about. The cowboy told him, and put it plainly. Followed another question. "Wasn't it Green an' two-three more o' you who beat Bundy up for no reason?"

"Jim thrashed him--alone--for ill-treatin' Yorky. Bundy knocked the boy down, stole his rifle, shot his pony, an' set him afoot out on the range, a sick kid, with night comin' on. No reason, huh?"

"Is that true?"

The cowboy's good-humoured face became bleak. "If you wanta call me a liar, Trenton, wait till yo're well."

The rancher dismissed the threat with a grimace of disdain. "How long have you known Green?"

"Not near so long as I have you, but I like him a damned sight more," was the candid reply.

And that concluded the conversation.

Two more days of travel brought them within a mile of Rainbow, and there, in a wooded hollow well away from the trail out of the town, Dover called a halt.

"Before we decide anythin' I'll slip in an' get word with Bowdyr," he said. "It'll be dark when I reach the Parlour, an I'll take care not to be seen."

When he returned, he was excited, and a little jubilant. "We're in time," he announced. "Maitland is offerin' the ranches for sale to-morrow mornin', at eleven o'clock; all the cattlemen in the district have been notified. He's in a hurry, curse him; that's the day my mortgage expires."

"Mine too," Trenton growled.

"Well, mebbe he'll get a surprise," Dover went on. "We'll camp here to-night. The sale is to take place in the Parlour, an' we can sneak in through the back--I've fixed it with Ben. Our game is to lie low until Garstone has showed his hand--if he's there. He won't be expectin' any of us, an' he's figurin' Trenton is cashed. We can hear everythin' from the room behind, an' sift in at the right moment. All agreed?"

The assent was general. Trenton, a tired and sick man, sustained solely by his thirst for vengeance, asked one question:

"Anythin' been seen of Garstone an' Beth?"

"No, but they may've gone straight to yore ranch."

Dover's surmise was correct. Garstone and the girl had actually arrived in the vicinity of Rainbow several hours ahead of the Circle Dot, and Beth had insisted they should avoid the town. Garstone had no objection to offer. His comment, if uncomplimentary to his companion, was true--neither of them was fit to be seen. The homeward trek had been an ordeal for both, and to the girl a nightmare. Many times they had lost all sense of direction, and in the end had blundered blindly on the wagon-road to the settlement. Taking so much longer than they expected, food ran out, and though the man could shoot, he was so poor a woodsman that he frequently frightened the game and returned empty-handed.

The stress of the journey had shown Garstone to small advantage. Obsessed by his eagerness to get on, he showed less and less consideration for his companion, and any delay infuriated him. At such times he was almost brutal in his insistence, and she began to divine that his customary suavity was but a mask. The plea that he must save the ranch did not satisfy her. Any expression of anxiety concerning her uncle only irritated him.

"You didn't expect them to catch us up, surely," he said. "They would have to travel slowly, and you must remember that Zeb is not young, and sorely hurt; anything may have happened."

He had intended to prepare her for the news he hoped Bundy would bring, that the rancher had succumbed to his injury, but he only succeeded in frightening her.

"You mean he is--dead?" she asked fearfully.

"Of course not, but he may have had a relapse, which would delay them," he replied quickly. "On the other hand, Bundy would know a shorter way than we found, and they may be waiting at the ranch."

This did not prove to be the case; at the Wagon-wheel nothing had been heard of the owner or the foreman. When the travellers had washed, dressed, and eaten, Garstone was in a more pleasant frame of mind.

"Well, my dear, we're only just in time," he said. "I have a notice from Maitland that the Wagon-wheel and Circle Dot ranches will be sold to-morrow morning."

"But isn't that rather high-handed?" Beth asked.

"It certainly is, and I cannot understand Zeb giving them the power to do it. Either he is a poor business man, or he was in desperate need of the loan. However, we'll give that money-grubber a jolt."

"We? Surely there is no necessity for me to attend?"

"On the contrary, it is most essential. In your 'uncle's absence, you represent the family, and--I don't think he'd mind your knowing this--you are his heir."

"What have we to do?"

"Clear the Wagon-wheel and buy the Circle Dot," he replied triumphantly. "The two will make a fine property--for us, Beth. We shall also fling that red-haired boor into the mire."

The venom in his voice revolted her. "I have no wish to see Mister Dover ruined," she said coldly.

His surprise was genuine. "Why this sudden solicitude for the enemy of your family?"

"On one occasion, at least, he saved my life," she reminded. Garstone shrugged. "I doubt if the cattle would have hurt you," he said. "Perhaps we'll make Dover foreman at the Circle Dot."

"Which would humiliate him still more."

Her vehemence brought a thoughtful expression to his face. "No, that wouldn't do--he must leave Rainbow. A disturbing element, but I can deal with him."

She looked at him with stormy eyes. "Which means that you will get someone else to do it, I suppose," she said cuttingly. "I am tired of this hatred and violence. I will have no part in it."

Her mind in a tumult, she sought solitude in her own room, to sit, staring blindly at the peaceful scene without. Something had happened to her; it was as though she had awakened from an evil dream. She had not yet said "Yes" to Chesney Garstone, and knew now that she never would.

The man himself was not perturbed by her outbreak. "Overwrought," he decided. "She'll learn." The game was in his hands now. He had the money, and Trenton was dead--he felt sure of that, though the non-appearance of Lake and Bundy was perplexing. One bold stroke would put him in possession of both ranches. He went to Trenton's office to prepare it.

Chapter XXV

When the Circle Dot men awoke in the morning it was to find one of their number, Hunch, missing; no one had seen him go, and his horse was still there.

"Reckon he warn't interested," Dan opined. "Hiked off to the ranch, or back into the woods--he was anus happier there. His testimony wouldn't count anyway. You got any ideas, Doc?"

"No, he beats me," was the reply.

Breakfast was eaten, razors produced, and they made themselves as presentable as possible. "No 'casion to look like a lot o' bums if we are busted," Dover remarked, and Malachi, for one, agreed with him. Then they sat down to wait the word from Bowdyr.

By the hour advertised that portion of the Parlour usually devoted to dancing contained almost the whole male population of Rainbow, and a few of the women. There were also strangers, cattlemen from the outlying ranges, and a sprinkling of others whose garb told that they were alien to the West. Lounging against the wall at the back, glum-faced, were Burke and the rest of the Circle Dot outfit.

On the little platform the piano had been pushed aside, and a table, with several chairs, substituted. At this sat the banker, his daughter beside him. Prompt to the moment he rose and briefly explained the purpose of the meeting, concluding with the remark, "Some of you may regard this action as inconsiderate on the part of the bank, but I must remind you that business is business, and a financial institution cannot be conducted on philanthropic lines."

He waited for the perfunctory applause of this oratorical gem to die down, and was about to continue when there was a stir at the door; Garstone and Miss Trenton entered. The big man had timed their arrival to the instant. He had theleathern satchel under one arm. Maitland stepped from his platform to meet them.

"I am delighted to see you both," he greeted. "I could get no news of you at the ranch. I trust Mister Trenton is well."

Garstone drew him apart, and a whispered conversation ensued. At the end of it the banker was all subservience. "Of course, as a man of affairs, you will understand how I was situated," he excused. "My head office--"

Garstone cut him short with a gesture, and conducted his companion to the platform, where seats were provided. The banker again addressed the audience.

"The arrival of Mister Garstone with funds to liquidate the bank's debt disposes of the Wagon-wheel," he announced. "Is there anyone here to represent the Circle Dot?"

"Yeah, me," Burke called out. "An' I say it's a damned shame to sell Dan Dover's property behind his back."

The applause which followed this outspoken statement brought a flush to Maitland's pale face. "Have you the money to pay off the mortgage?" he asked.

"You know thunderin' well I ain't," the foreman replied. "Dan went to git it, an' may be here any of time."

Beth Trenton rose. "Mister Maitland, the Wagon-wheel will advance the necessary sum to the Circle Dot," she said.

Garstone's expression became one of fury. Gripping the girl's arm, he forced her to sit down, whispering savagely, "Don't be a fool, Beth." Turning to the banker, he went on, "The Wagon-wheel will do nothing of the kind, Miss Trenton is allowing her heart to overrule her head; we expect that from her sex, but it is not business. What is the amount owing to you?"

"Forty thousand dollars."

"I will buy the Circle Dot for that figure if there is no better offer."

None came, and Maitland smiled his satisfaction; that the bank should not lose was his sole concern. He had risen to terminate the meeting when the Easterner again whispered.

"Mister Garstone has something to say to you," he stated.

Standing there, big-framed, carefully-dressed, a genial look on his fleshy face, the man made an imposing figure. He dispensed with any preamble.

"I am going to tell you why Zeb Trenton is not here to do this job himself, and it's quite a story. Most of you have heard of Red Rufe's Cache. Well, some weeks ago, Trenton, his niece, myself, and some of our men went in search of it." Several in the audience sniggered. "Yes, I know others have tried and failed, but we succeeded, and there it is"--he pointed to the satchel--"somewhere about seventy thousand dollars."

There were no sniggers this time, but envious eyes rested on the container of so much wealth. It had been for anyone to find.

"Unfortunately, a gang of ruffians from the Circle Dot--"

"You better lay off that kind o' talk," Burke warned, and was supported by a growl from his men.

"Were also after it," Garstone went on. "They attacked us, but we fought them off. Two of our men, Rattray and Flint, were killed, and Mister Trenton so severely wounded that I had to leave him in the charge of Bundy and another, since it was urgent I should be here to-day. So Miss Trenton and I came on, and though it was a terribly arduous journey, I could not wish for a more plucky fellow-traveller."

Beth received the compliment with stony indifference, but the speaker was too full of his own success to notice. As owner of two ranches, Rainbow must learn to recognize his importance. These hucksters and the like had to be told that he was no mere servant, and Beth brought to heel.

"It may interest you to know that I own one-third of the Wagon-wheel; should Trenton not recover, it becomes two-thirds, the rest going to his niece. The will, which I have here, substantiates this. It is in accordance with his desire, often expressed to me, that we should wed, and the lady, I am happy to say, has consented."

If the spectators expected blushes and confusion they were woefully disappointed. Red of cheek she certainly was as she sprang to her feet, and her eyes were flaming.

"That, like some of your other statements, is a lie," she said, in a clear, ringing tone. "Nothing in this world would induce me to marry you. As regards the two men who died, Rattray perished by accident, and Flint was shot by Bundy, as you well know. My uncle--"

"Is here to speak for himself," a weak but stern voice interrupted.

Through the door leading to the living part of the establish ment, near the platform, Trenton, supported by Dover and the doctor, followed by Tiny and Yorky, entered, Garstone's features underwent a swift transformation from rage to joy, and he was the first to reach the rancher's side.

"My dear Zeb, so those two fellows have got you here at last. I never was so pleased to see anyone," he cried, and in a whisper, as he dragged forward a chair, "All is fixed; we have the Circle Dot. I can explain everything."

Trenton did not reply. Sinking into the seat, he looked round the room, and then darted a finger at Garstone. "That man is a liar and a cheat," he said. Heads craned forward, and no one now thought of leaving. "His story of what happened in the mountains is as false as his own black heart. We attacked the Circle Dot, an' I was shot by Bundy, my own foreman. When the money was found, this skunk cleared out an' left me, dyin' an' helpless, alone in the wilds, to be the prey of any savage beast. Later, he sent Bundy an' Lake back to finish me. They thought I was dead a'ready, an' I heard them talkin'. They quarrelled about buryin' me, an' Bundy shot Lake, threw him down beside me, an' put a pistol by my hand to make it look I'd done it. The Circle Dot found an' fetched me home. On the way, Bundy saw us, an' tried again to get me, but Green got him."

He paused, breathing heavily, Garstone, who had listened to this terrible indictment with well-simulated incredulity but a very pallid face, addressed the doctor:

"He's mad, raving; illness has turned his brain."

"No," Malachi said sharply. "He is saner than you are." Trenton spoke again. "One thing more. That rascal has no share in my ranch, an' the so-called will of which he is boastin' is another lie."

Garstone whirled on him. "Lost your memory too, eh?" he sneered. "That document was dictated to me by you a few days before we started for the hills, and the signature was witnessed by two of your men, Flint and Rattray."

"Who are conveniently dead," the rancher retorted.

"I shall hold you to it, and claim one-third the value of the ranch, and the same proportion of this," Garstone replied, striking the bag beside him on the table.

"That is mine," Dover put in quietly. "We were camped on the spot where it lay when the Wagon-wheel took us by surprise. Moreover, it was put there by my father's brother, an' therefore--"

"It belongs to me," another voice broke in.

All eyes went to this new actor in the drama, a man who had been sitting unnoticed at the side of the room, chin on chest, had slouched over his brow, and apparently taking little count of the proceedings. Now he rose, leant forward, and pushed his hat back.

"Do you know me, Zeb Trenton?" he asked vibrantly.

The rancher might have been looking at an apparition. Others, too, stared in speechless amazement, for despite the absence of the unkempt white beard and long hair, they recognized the gaunt, stooping frame of Hunch, the silent woodsman of the Circle Dot. But this fierce-eyed old man was very different to the one they had known as a semi-witless vagrant.

It was a full minute before the answer came. "Rufus Dover, by God!"

"Yes, Rufus Dover, the man you drove out o' Rainbow."

"You killed my father."

"True, but not as he killed mine--by shootin' him from ambush," was the stern reply. "I met Tom Trenton the night he died; boastin' of his deed, he dared me to draw; I beat him to it--he was dead before he could pull trigger. There was no witness. You called it murder, raised the town against me, an' I had to fade. In California I was knowed as Red Rufe, made my pile, an' runnin' with a rough gang, cached it, an' sent two messages to my brother. Then a tree fell on me, an' when I recovered my mind was a blank. Years later, I drifted in to the Circle Dot, blind instinct, I reckon, for I didn't even recognize Dave. But he knew an' took care o' me. He showed me the first message I'd sent, but it recalled nothin'; the second did not reach him." He bent his piercing gaze on the sheriff, who was sitting near Maitland. "An' you know why, Foxwell."

The officer seemed to shrink into his clothes; he read danger in those accusing eyes. "He was dead when I found him," he quavered. "I on'y--"

"Stole the letter an' sold it to Trenton for that badge you disgrace," the old man finished. "Who murdered my brother Dave?"

The sheriff shivered. "I--I dunno," he said hoarsely. Sudden stepped forward. "Trenton, where did yu get that thirty-eight we found on yore saddle?"

The rancher's reply came promptly. "Bundy gave it me, just before we left for the hills; my forty-four was out of order." The puncher looked at Foxwell. "An' Bundy had it from yu; don't trouble to lie. Scratched on the stock are the letters, L.P., the initials of Lafe Potter, the Circle Dot rider whose belongings yu sold, mebbe. Dave Dover was drilled by a thirty-eight, an' the empty shell was left in plain sight, with a dottle o' baccy beside it. yu smoke a pipe, don't yu, Trenton? An' then he plants the gun on yu--the on'y one o' that calibre in the district, so far as I could learn. That was why yu wasn't keen on weighin' the bullet at the enquiry; yu knew the guilty man."

"I didn't," the sheriff protested. "I never thought o' Bundy. I figured it was--" He stopped, his frightened eyes on the owner of the Wagon-wheel.

Trenton stiffened in his chair, and his fingers closed convulsively. "you suspected me, you whelp?" he rasped. "By Heaven, if I had my strength-- The cowering wretch was not to escape. In two strides, Dan had him by the throat, his badge was torn off, and after being shaken until his teeth clashed in his jaws, he was flung on the floor.

"Get out before I tear you apart," the young man panted. "If yo're in town one hour from now, you hang."

Foxwell did not doubt it. Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled towards the door, amid the jeers and curses of the onlookers, many of whom struck at him as he passed.

"That lets you out, Trenton," Red Rufe said. "I've one thing to thank yore people for: when they clubbed me up on 01' Cloudy, they brought back my memory, though I didn't let on--for reasons. Sorry I had to make a fool o' you, Doc." *

"You didn't--I've always been one," Malachi smiled. "But I'm wiser now." His gaze was on Kate Maitland.

Rufe addressed the banker. "I'll trouble you to hand over my money."

Maitland, conscious that he was wading in deep waters, did not know what to do. He appealed to Trenton, and got a snapped, "Give it to him, of course."

It took both arms and an effort on the banker's part, but Red Rufe held it easily with one hand. "Now I'll tell you some-thin' else, Mister," he said. "The Circle Dot is also mine--Dave was on'y my manager, an' he had no power to raise cash on it. Yore mortgage ain't worth a cent." Maitland's face grew white. "But, though I don't like yore methods, the Dovers pay debts--of any sort. You'll get yores, on one condition." He bent over and whispered.

"Certainly, Mister Dover, anything you say," the banker promised eagerly, colour returning a little to his cheeks. Garstone, slumped in his chair, brow furrowed in a heavy frown, was silent. He had failed; just when all seemed secure, his edifice of fraud and treachery had toppled about his ears. But something might still be saved from the wreck. He drew himself up and looked at Trenton.

"I want my third share of the Wagon-wheel."

The rancher's clamped lips 'writhed in a bitter smile. "Better apply to Maitland," he replied. "Mebbe he'll accept yore lyin' paper. The Wagon-wheel is no longer mine."

The enormous strain to which he had subjected it was telling upon his enfeebled body. Beth, now sitting beside him, put a protecting arm about the bent shoulders.

"Don't fret, Uncle Zeb, everything will come right," she whispered.

Maitland, who appeared to have recovered his poise, spoke plainly: "I shall certainly require definite proof that the will is genuine."

One of the two strangers who had been chatting with Yorky pushed forward. He was a keen-eyed, poker-faced fellow, dressed in the fashion of the big cities.

"If it's a question of handwriting, gents, perhaps I can help," he said. "I'm a bit of an expert."

Garstone believed he had found a friend. "I shall be indebted," he replied, with a marked emphasis on the last word. On receiving the document, the unknown turned to Maitland. "You got a known specimen of the signature on this?" he enquired.

The banker fumbled among his papers. "Here is a draft which Mister Trenton signed in my presence."

The expert compared the two signatures, discussing them with his companion, who had joined him. "I guess that settlesit," he said, handed back the draft, and put the will in his pocket.

"Here, I want that," Garstone cried.

"So do the New York police,-and they want you with it," the man returned dryly. "So bad, too, that they've sent me to fetch you."

The blood drained from Garstone's face, but he made an attempt to fight the fear which possessed him. "You are making a mistake," he said. "I am Chesney Garstone--"

"Yep, that's a swell monicker," the man replied, and beckoned to yorky. "Now, son, this is the guy you wrote us about, ain't it? Tell him who he is--he 'pears to have forgotten."

"Look at that kid's face," one of the crowd whispered to his neighbour. "Nothin' you could offer him would buy this moment."

He was right; Yorky would not have sold it for the contents of Red Rufe's Cache. Pointing to Garstone, he cried shrilly, "That's the Penman--Big Fritz, forger an bank-buster. He done the Burley Bank job an' killed the night-watchman. I've seed him scores o' times in O'Toole's joint on th' Waterfront."

To the breathless spectators of the scene the man seemed to become older before their eyes; instead of a confident, bumptious bully they saw a haggard craven. Even his voice had changed.

"He lies, I don't know the Waterfront. I never heard of Mike O'Toole--"

The stranger's laugh stopped him. "Maybe, but who told you it was Mike?" he asked. "Well, we all make slips, and we had you fixed anyway."

"You can't arrest me here for an offence committed in another State," Garstone said desperately.

"That's my part," the second man said. He flicked aside his coat, showing the badge of a deputy-sheriff. "You'll be taken to Tucson, and sent on to New york."

Garstone shuddered. There was no escape; these cold-featured men would take him away to--death. He cursed the luck which had sent him to Rainbow; cursed that other fugitive from the underworld who had brought about his undoing. He visioned again the cave in the mountains, and heard a voice, "Rats has teeth, an' can bite." The rat had bitten, even then, and the wound would be fatal. The thought that this puny brat had bested him bred a madness in his brain. If he must die, it should not be alone; that grinning little beast .. . Livid with fury, he snatched a pistol from beneath his open coat and levelled it at yorky's breast.

"You first--vermin," he hissed.

The words were his last mistake. Ere he could press the trigger, a gun cracked, and he staggered, pitched sideways, and rolled off the platform, the weapon dropping from his twitching fingers. Sudden shoved his smoking six-shooter back into his belt.

"I had to do it," he said to the officers. "Yo're journey has been wasted."

"Oh, I guess not," the New Yorker replied callously. "Dead or alive was my instructions; he'll be less trouble in a box." And, as the puncher turned away, added, to his companion, "Did you see it? Hell! I'm glad they didn't ask me to collect him."

In the midst of the excitement, as the jostling crowd surged forward to get a sight of the corpse, someone touched his elbow--a very pale and trembling Yorky.

"Say, Mister, d'yer think Clancy'll git promotion fer this?" he questioned.

"Sure, he won't be a common flat-foot no more," the man replied. "There's a reward too; you both ought to come in on that."

"I don't want none of it--tell 'em Clancy can have my share," yorky said quickly. "He's got a wife an' little 'uns. He was kind ter me. I'd like fer him to know I'm well an' doin' fine."

"I'll tell him my own self, son," the detective promised, and when the boy had gone, "Clancy said he was a lunger, but hell, he don't look it. Pity more of our slum lads can't git out here and have a chance of becomin' real men."

Chapter XXVI

Two weeks later, Dan, following the course of the Rainbow on his way to the Wagon-wheel, came upon two saddled ponies contentedly cropping the rich grass of the river bank. Rounding a clump of willow, he discovered the owners, Malachi and Kate Maitland, sitting very close together, and so completely oblivious to the rest of the world that they failed to notice his approach.

"Space on this range bein' limited, folks naturally has to crowd one another," he mused aloud.

The girl started, flushed, and tried to draw away, but her companion clasped her waist more firmly, looked up, and grinned.

"Dan, I've the greatest news for you," he said. "We are to be married."

The rancher laughed. "You call that news? Why, Rainbow has knowed it ever since we got back from 01' Cloudy. I've on'y one thing to say, Phil--yo're a lucky fella."

"And that is no news to me," the doctor returned gravely. "Riding far, Dan?"

"I have business at the Wagon-wheel."

Malachi's eyes twinkled. "He has business at the Wagon-wheel," he told the girl beside him. "And maybe that range is larger and folks don't have to crowd one another."

They both smiled broadly, and it was Dover's turn to get red. "Aw, go to--Paradise," he said, and rode away.

To his mingled relief and disappointment, Zeb's old housekeeper answered his knock, conducted him to the sick rancher's room, and left them together. Trenton, sitting up in bed, welcomed his visitor grimly.

"Well, come to give me notice to quit?"

"No, just wanted to see if you're feelin' strong enough to tear this up," Dan replied, and threw a paper on the counterpane; it was the mortgage on the Wagon-wheel.

"What's the idea? Didn't you buy the ranch?"

"The Circle Dot took over the debt, an' you can pay in yore own time--I figure the cattle business is on the upgrade," Dover replied. "I've told our outfit that yore cows can graze to the river. That's all I gotta say." He turned to go.

"Wait a minute," Trenton said. "A week back I was called a stiff-necked, stubborn of fool; o'course, she didn't put it in those words--"

"She?" Dan wanted to know.

"Shore, my niece, Beth." The harsh, bony features had softened, and there was a shadow of a smile on the bloodless lips. "She's got pluck--nobody ever dared bawl me out, sick or well. It made me think, an' this clinches it. On top of savin' her life an' mine, you hand back my property. It shames me, * boy. I've allus sworn I'd never thank a Dover, but I'm doin' it."

The young man gripped the proffered thin hand willingly enough, and the Trenton-Dover war was at an end.

"I owe a hell of a lot to you an' yore men--'specially Green," the invalid said presently. "If you agree, I'd like to offer him his own terms to come here."

"I wish you could persuade him, for we've failed," Dan replied sadly. "Claims he has a promise to keep, which means puffin' out soon. You'll never budge him, he's as obstinate as a--Dover," he finished, with a grin.

The old man smiled too. "I've treated him middlin' shabby," he said. "I reckon I'll have to eat crow."

"Jim ain't that sort," Dan assured him. "He's the best friend I ever had, an' he won't let me do a thing--just says `Shucks' an' changes the subject. I'm damned sorry he's goin'."

"Ask him to come an' see me," the rancher said.

Dover promised, and was about to leave when he remembered something--the locket. He laid it on the bed.

"Guess this belongs to yore niece; I found it in the tent," he explained, and came away.

As he stepped into the open, he met the girl herself. She had no smile of welcome for him, and her greeting told why. "When do we move out?"

"I've been seein' yore uncle about that," he replied.

"You might have waited until he is stronger," she said heatedly. "I must go to him at once."

She left him standing there, and did not see the whimsical look which followed her. Dan hoisted himself into the saddle and set off, but he had gone less than fifty yards when he heard her call.

"Mister Dover."

He grinned wickedly, but took no notice, until the cry was repeated, breathlessly. He stopped and dismounted; the girl was hurrying towards him; her face was flushed, eyes moist.

"You are the meanest man I ever met," she began. "You save my life, restore my uncle's property after he has used you badly, and even bring back something the loss of which grieved me deeply--my mother's portrait, and you refuse to accept a word of thanks. Why have you always disliked me? I couldn't help being the daughter of a Trenton."

The curious mixture of indignation and gratitude made her so provokingly pretty that he had hard work to refrain from putting his arms about her and telling the truth--that he didn't care if she was the daughter of the Devil himself.

"I was afraid." He saw she did not comprehend, and went on. "Afraid I'd get too fond o' you, so I tried to build a barrier between us."

"And it had to be barbed wire?" she said.

"Yeah, but I found out that barbed wire won't keep thoughts from strayin', an' is liable to hurt those who handle it.

The soft dark eyes faced his bravely for an instant and then dropped. "I learned that too--Dan," she murmured.

It was quite a time before she had an opportunity to speak again, and, as she strove to rearrange her hair, it was a truly feminine remark:

"I expect I look a sight; I don't know what you must think of me."

"I think yo're the most beautiful girl in Arizona," he told her.

"Only in Arizona, Dan?" she teased.

"Arizona is my world," he replied.

"Mine too," she whispered, and brought about another interlude.

* Sudden and Yorky were paying a final visit to the Pool of the Pines, for--as Dan had predicted--Trenton's inducements and pleas had proved vain as his own. They had enjoyed their swim, and Nigger was waiting. The boy's expression was woebegone.

"I'll be missin' yer, Jim. Wish I c'd come too," he said, for about the twentieth time.

"So do I, but it's too chancy," the puncher replied. `Best yu should stay here, learn yore job, an' get them bellows o' yourn sound again. Then, mebbe, when I'm free, yu an' me'll go take a look at the country somewheres."

Yorky's eyes shone at the prospect. "Gee! Jim, that'd be swell," he breathed.

"So long, son," Sudden said, as he swung into the saddle. "Keep outa trouble, but if that ain't possible, see it through."

The boy watched the black horse and its rider until they were blotted out by a mist which was not of Nature's making; there was an unaccustomed lump in his throat.

"Just th' greatest guy--ever," he told the silence.

THE END