Sudden Outlawed

Sudden Outlawed

Oliver Strange

*

Chapter I

"I'm pretty near down to my last chip, son, an' before I get outa the game there's somethin' I wanta say."

The voice was weak, little more than a whisper, and the breath came with difficulty from the speaker's labouring lungs. Out of the gaunt, angular face, deeply graven with lines of suffering, hard eyes rested approvingly upon the youth who, with downcast head, stood beside the bed. Tall, slim, and supple, wide-shouldered and narrow-hipped, strength showed in every line of him. In his eyes lay a deep-seated misery.

"I've allus had the name for a square shooter, but I ain't done right by yu, Jim," the sick man went on. "There won't be nothin' for yu--but a debt-to two men."

"yu've been mighty good to me," the boy muttered, and despite his iron effort for control there was a quaver in his voice.

The other was silent awhile, fighting for breath, and then, "Peterson stole my li'l gal an' broke my heart," he said slowly. "An' when yu was East, gettin' some larnin', that houn' Webb stripped me." His voice was harsh, pregnant with passion ; hatred gave him a last spasm of strength. "yo're the fastest fella with a gun I ever see, an' I've knowed some o' the best ; I'm leavin' them two skunks to yu."

The younger man's bronzed face remained impassive as a redskin's, save that the muscles of the square jaw firmed up and the grey-blue eyes became icy.

"I'll get 'em," he promised, and this time there was no tremor in the low vibrant voice.

A gleam of fierce satisfaction flitted over the pallid features of the dying man and then his head sagged sideways. The boy just caught the whispered words, "S'long--Jim."

For a moment he stood dazed, hardly realizing that all was over. Death he had seen before, but not in this guise. Now, as he looked down upon the stark form of the man who had been his only friend, a convulsive sob tore at his throat. Gently he drew up the sheet to cover the glazed expressionless eyes, and went out.

Seated on a bench in front of the ranch-house, he mechan cally rolled and lighted a cigarette, his mind delving into the past. He saw himself, a half-starved, lanky lad, parentless, nameless, friendless, practically the property of an old Piute brave, travelling the country with a band of ponies. How he had come to be with them he had never learned, but he knew that he was white--the Indian woman had once told him as much, after a successful sale when her lord and master became drunk before the fire-water was finished, an unusual occurrence of which she promptly took advantage. The nomad life toughened the boy, gave him self-reliance, and the ability to stay on the back of anything that wore hair. He was not unhappy, for the Indian couple were kind enough when sober. And he loved the horses.

With the advent of Bill Evesham had come a complete change, for the kindly-faced, lonely rancher took a fancy to the boy and bought him, together with a string of ponies, from the Indian horse-trader. So Jim--Evesham called him that--had come to the ranch at Crawling Creek. The ensuing years were happy ones. He acquired some rudiments of knowledge at a school fifteen miles distant, and learned the cattle business. Then Evesham sent him East to complete his education and for nearly two years he paid only flying visits to the ranch. He had returned finally a few months ago to find his benefactor ailing and broken, a glum, dispirited man who remained obstinately silent respecting his troubles.

"Things ain't gone none too well, Jim, an' I've had to sell stock," was his grudging explanation when the young man remarked on the depleted herds..

"yu should 'a' fetched me back--I've been spendin' coin yu couldn't afford," Jim had protested.

"Shucks! Had to give yu yore chance. We'll make the grade," the rancher had replied.

But although Jim had applied himself whole-heartedly to work on the range, matters did not improve, and the cattleman's failing health proved a heavy handicap. One by one the few remaining riders had drifted until only Limpy, a disabled cowboy who acted as cook, and Jim, were left. And now... . A halting step on the porch aroused him.

"Jim, he's--gone," Limpy announced in a shocked voice. The boy nodded miserably. The older man put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm powerful sorry," he said. "Bill was a good fella--one o' the best I ever knowed. 'S'pose the place'Il be yores now?"

Jim shook his head. "Reckon not, Limpy," he replied. "I figure the ranch is pretty well hawg-tied. I expect I'll be ridin'."

The following afternoon found Jim again on the porch seat, brooding, restless, his eyes on the blue mountains which rimmed the horizon and hemmed in the broad undulating stretches of sun-scorched grass. Though he had seen Evesham buried that morning, he still found it difficult to believe that the man who had been all the father he had ever known was gone.

Presently a tiny blot appeared on the trail to town, gradually growing in size until it became a rider, jog-trotting leisurely towards the ranch. The visitor proved to be a short, stout man of more than middle age, dressed in rusty black, and obviously ill at ease in the saddle. He got down clumsily, tied his mount to the hitch-rail, and mopped his moist face.

"Damn hosses anyway," he complained. "Why didn't the A'mighty give us wings?"

Despite his sadness, a glint of a smile wrinkled the corners of the young man's mouth as he tried to vision the stumpy form of the speaker flapping its way through the air.

"yu'll get 'em in the next world, Pyke--mebbe," he said, sardonically, adding, "There's liquor inside."

Pyke shook his head. "On'y makes yu hotter," he said, and plumped himself down on the bench.

Neither spoke for a while. The visitor filled and lighted a pipe and the other constructed a cigarette. Pyke did not seem in a hurry to open the conversation, and Jim sensed the reason. He had seen him at the little cemetery in the morning and had noticed his constraint.

"Well, ol'-timer, spill the beans," he said quietly. "Come to tell me to pull my freight, huh?"

Pyke looked still more uncomfortable. "Hell, no, Jim," he protested. "Stay as long as yu've a mind to, but--" He paused awkwardly and then went on with a rush. "Pore of Bill owed a lot o' coin an' this yer ranch is all there is to show for it. Won't cover the debt nohow ; he didn't own more'n a section o' the land, an' if what I've heard is correct, he's been losin' cattle, so ... "

"There'll be no pickin's for me," the young man helped him out. "I knowed that a'ready."

"yu see, Jim, I ain't alone in this," Pyke said hastily. "Two --three of us chipped in to tide Bill over. If it was just me I'd be willin' to let the debt run, but--"

The other smiled sombrely. "yu don't have to tell me," he replied. "What's come o' Webb?"

"Ain't a notion," was the answer. "He faded 'bout the time yu was due to get back. Never liked the fella m'self but Bill usted him--too much, I reckon."

Jim nodded a gloomy acquiescence. He had seen the man on the last of his brief visits from the East, and recalled him as big-built, red-headed, and something of a blustering bully. Evesham had made him foreman, and with increasing ill-health, had left things largely in his hands.

"I didn't oughta gone away," he muttered, voicing an ever-present regret.

"He was dead sot on yore goin'," the elder man consoled. What yu aimin' to do, Jim?"

"I've got a job," came the instant reply, rasped out through enched teeth.

Pyke's mild gaze noted the set, out-thrust jaw, the frosty gleam in the grey-blue eyes, and shook his head as he guessed the boy's intention.

"She's a large country," he offered. "Now, I was thinkin' we'll want someone here to run the ranch...."

Jim stood up. "It's mighty kind o' yu, Pyke, but ..." He looked at the familiar scene. "No, I couldn't stand it--without --him," he said. "I reckon I'll scratch gravel."

"Well, chew it over--there's no hurry," Pyke told him, as he climbed into his saddle.

The young man's smile was tight-lipped. "I'll be away early in the mornin'," he said. "Mebbe I'll be back--some day." There was a finality in his tone which conveyed that further argument would be futile. Pyke had no more to say ; the West held that "a man must skin his own meat," and advice, unless plainly asked for, was seldom offered. So, with a nod of farewell, he rode away.

Jim watched the visitor dwindle to a mere speck and vanish where the trail dipped into a hollow, but he was not thinking of Pyke ; his mind was milling over the last few days. For the first time he had had the bitter experience of standing helplessly by while a dear one passed over the Big Divide, and now--as at the time--the thought of his impotence filled him with a blind, unreasoning rage, the rebellion of youth and strength against the immutable law of Nature. There was nothing he could have done then, but there was something he could do--now.

"Peterson and Webe."

He murmured the names, his face a grim threat ; his hands flashed to his hips, the black-handled guns leapt out, a staccato stream of crashes shattered the stillness, and a tall weed, twenty paces distant on the edge of the trail, dissolved into fragments before a hail of {ead. From inside the ranch-house came a scurry of clumsy footsteps and Limpy appeared in the doorway carrying a rifle.

"What th' blazes, Jim?" he began. His darting eyes took in the lounging figure on the bench, the smoking guns, and the stricken target. "Thought it was Injuns, or some o' them Mex raiders."

"Just me, lettin' off steam," the other explained. "Wanted to see if I'd got rusty, but I reckon if that'd been a man ..." He nodded at the weed.

"He'd shore be hittin' the high spots for hell," the cook said, and then, curiously, "Did yu have a particular fella in mind, Jim?"

The answer took the form of a question. "Any idea where that chap Webb went?"

The lame man's eyes narrowed. "Wish I had, the buzzard," he growled. "But for him, Bill wouldn't have ..." He paused as the significance of the query dawned upon him. "yu ain't stayin' then?"

"I hit the trail in the mornin'," was the reply.

"Good huntin'," was all Limpy said, and went in to prepare the evening meal.

Jim reloaded his empty weapons and thrust them back into the holsters. His spate of anger was past, leaving only a cold determination. He had to find two men, only one of whom he had seen, and such is the optimism of youth, the magnitude of the task did not daunt him. Even had he known of the years which were to elapse ere he would fulfil his promise to the dead man,* it would have made no difference ; his early life had endowed him with much of the redskin's patience and relentlessness. This strange quest, which set him drifting in a wild, lawless land, flung him headlong into many perilous adventures, with one of which this story deals.

Chapter II

The rider was talking to his horse.

"We gotta have a label, Nig--Evesham won't do nohow."

He looked meditatively at the broad rolling prairie which stretched away on each side of the rough trail he was following, a monstrous expanse of sun-baked, brown grass.

"Green is a good name, kind o' refreshin', nothin' fancy nor outstandin'. Jim Green o' Texas shore listens well, huh?"

The big black, pacing demurely along, tossed its head as though in agreement and his master patted the sleek neck.

"Good," he said. "Settles me, but yu ain't got no brand a-tall, an' that'll mean trouble with a large T."

He got down, trailed the reins, and stroked the satiny muzzle thrust inquiringly towards a pocket. He produced a biscuit, which the horse daintily accepted.

"Now be a good fella," the rider admonished. "This ain't goin' to hurt like an iron."

With a knife-blade held against his thumb he plucked the hair from the skin on the animal's rump, and, in time, produced a creditable J G brand. Surveying his work, he decided that it would serve, though an expert would not be deceived. He resumed his journey.

"Looks like we might he gettin' some place," he remarked presently.

The trail was broadening out, and as they topped a billow in the surface of the plain a huddle of black blotches, from a few of which spirals of smoke twisted into the clear sky, came into view.

"Must be what that joker we met called the 'pop'lar an' progressive township o' Fourways,' " the traveller soliloquized. "She don't appear to have progressed very far."

The criticism was justified. Two irregular rows of habitations formed some sort of a street, the surface of which was a hoof-scored, wheel-rutted desert of dust. The better of thebuildings, the stores and saloons, were constructed of timber or 'dobe ; the dwelling-places, for the most part, were mere shacks with earth-covered roofs. Save for a few citizens lolling beneath the board awning of the largest saloon, the place appeared to be deserted. The new-comer deciphered the weather-scarred sign, and surveyed the lounging group with a fleeting smile.

"The Early Bird," he murmured. "An' some o' the worms waitin' to be catched."

Dropping from his saddle he stepped into the saloon. After the fierce glare without, it was comparatively cool and dark inside. As he advanced, a short figure rose from behind the bar, stretched lazily, and rubbed half-open eyes.

"'Lo, Jud. Back again?" Then, as the stranger neared him, he added, "Sorry. Took yu for another fella." *

"I shorely hope he's good-lookin'," the customer grinned, and spun a coin on the counter.

"Well, that's as maybe, but no woman ain't grabbed him yet," the saloon-keeper laughed.

He pushed forward a bottle and glass, accepted an invitation to help himself, and deftly tossed a three-finger dose of spirit down his capacious throat.

"Town seems quiet," the visitor offered.

"Too blamed hot," the other explained. "Come back in a coupla hours, if yo're aimin' to stay, an' yu'll see some action."

The remark was as much of a question as politeness permitted ; the stranger answered it in part only.

"I'm huntin' a meal an' a bed," he said.

"yu'll find both at the ho-tel a piece along," he was told.

The customer nodded his thanks. "Reckon I'll go chase that chuck right now," he smiled. "My belly an' my backbone is shore gettin' acquainted. See yu later--I expect."

The saloon-keeper's gaze followed him speculatively, noting the long, easy stride and the swing of the wide shoulders.

"Two guns an' wears 'em low," he commented. "I'd say they ain't just ornaments neither."

Jim found the "ho-tel"--a shrivelled log and shake edifice which had the distinction of possessing the only second storey in the town. Having put his mount in the corral, he carried his saddle into the building. A slatternly woman showed him to one of the bedrooms and went to prepare food.

Two hours later, having fed and "slicked himself up," he was again in the Early Bird. As its proprietor had predicted, the scene was very different. The harsh light of large kerosene lamps shone down upon about a score of men, some lined up at the bar, others gambling at the tables which occupied part of the space in front of it. Every few moments the door swung back to admit additions to the company. The rattle of poker chips and dice, strange oaths, and occasional raucous laughter punctuated the incessant hum of voices.

Squinting through the blue haze of tobacco smoke the man from Crawling Creek studied the company. Apart from casual glances, no one took any notice of him--strangers were hardly a novelty in Fourways, and curiosity a dangerous commodity, liable to be resented. One man only looked him over keenly and turned away, apparently satisfied. This was a dumpy, bulbous-faced fellow with a big paunch and a strut suggestive of an over-fed turkey. From the somewhat ironic deference accorded him and the fact that he paid for no liquor, Jim deduced that he held a post of importance, and this was soon confirmed.

"Where's Jud?" the fat man asked.

"Ain't a notion, sheriff," the saloon-keeper replied. "Should 'a' bin back hours ago. He warn't"

He stopped, mouth and eyes opening as the swing-door jerked wide and a man staggered in, flung his arms out, and pitched forward on the sanded floor. Mallick, the sheriff, hurried to the prone figure.

"By God, it's Jud hisself ! " he cried. "What the hell ... ?"

Others sprang to help and the senseless man was lifted to a chair. One of them looked at his hand in surprise ; it was smeared with blood. He snatched aside the open vest, disclosing an ominous patch of red on the coarse woollen shirt front.

"He's bin drilled!" he cried.

Astonishment, expressed in lurid language, greeted the statement, and the excited onlookers, eager to get a sight of the wounded man, crowded in and threatened to engulf him. The sheriff, feeling for a fluttering pulse, looked up and cursed them savagely.

"Satan burn yu," he snapped. "Stand back an' give him a chanct, he ain't cashed yet. Gimme some liquor."

The circle widened and the saloon-keeper brought a glass of whisky. Mallick tilted back the hurt man's head and administered a stiff dose. The fiery spirit took effect. Jim, who had helped with the lifting, saw the pale lips move and caught the whispered words:

"Bushwhacked me--one man--waitin' in th' chaparral." He paused, and then, "On'y 'nother--mile--bronc. Guess--we can -make it."

His mind was wandering, living over again those terrible hours during which, hurt to death, he had clung to the back of his horse and paced the long, long miles which lay between him and help. Then out of the pain-drawn face, sickly grey under the tan, a gleam of recognition flashed from the heavy-lidded eyes as they met those of Jim.

"I saw--that fella--on the trail. He ..." The voice faded out and the speaker's head fell forward.

"He's gone," someone said.

"He ain't. Carry him to the hotel an' fetch the doc," Mallick replied. "I got suthin' to see to."

Four men picked up the chair and its burden, while another held open the door. When they had gone the sheriff turned abruptly to Jim, an ugly look in his eyes. For a moment there was silence, and then:

"yu heard him," the officer rasped, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door. "What yu gotta say?"

"I met that hombre this afternoon, 'bout twelve miles out on my way here," Jim explained. "I asked him if I was on the ight road for Fourways, an' mentioned that I aimed to spend he night there. He took a shine to my hoss an' wanted to rade, but I told him there was nothin' doin'. He said he was comin' back hisself in a coupla hours an' he'd talk to me again this evenin'. That's all I know."

The sheriff's sneer deepened. "He didn't say he was goin' o collect two thousand bucks for cattle he'd sold, huh?"

"No. Would he he likely to tell a stranger his business?"

"Mebbe. Jud was allus a trustful kind o' cuss. I'm sayin' :e did, an' that yu laid for him, an' helped yoreself." The accused man shrugged his shoulders. "If yu can find hat amount o' coin on me ..."

"I ain't expectin' to," Mallick cut in. "yu wouldn't be such a damn fool as to tote it round with yu."

"An' I wouldn't be such a damn fool as to come here a-tall," the young man retorted hotly.

"Shucks, yu figured him cashed, an' that trail ain't used much." the other countered. He turned as the door swung back to admit a tall, cadaverous man whose bent shoulders were encased in a long, shabby black coat. "How's yore patient, doc?"

"He's powerful bad," replied the man of medicine, grabbing the glass the saloon-keeper pushed out. "I'm afraid Jud is peekin' through the pearly gates right now."

A growl of anger from those present greeted the news and the sheriff's mean eyes shifted to the stranger.

"That settles it, young fella," he said. "I'm holdin' yu, an' if Jud ain't able to clear yu in the mornin' ... " The unfinished sentence was charged with menace. "Take his hardware," he added.

Jim's glance swept swiftly over the company and read the grim faces. If Jud died--and he was not too sure they would even wait for that--he was doomed to a shameful end. The odds were impossible, but if he must die, it should be fighting. He had a shrewd suspicion that the sheriff did not care whether he was guilty--he wanted a victim. Well, he would get one, but not easily.

In obedience to Mallick's order, two of the bystanders stepped forward and reached for the weapons. Instantly the motionless figure came to life, the hanging fists shot out right nd left, and the unsuspecting men went down as though struck by lightning. With a bellow of rage the sheriff snatched out his gun, only to drop it and clutch his right wrist in agony as a bullet smashed it. For though no man saw how it came about, both the stranger's Colts were out and spitting lead. Through the swirling smoke they got a glimpse of him, his young face tense and savage, his guns held at a hip level.

"Come on, yu curs," he taunted, and sent a shot crashing into one of the lamps.

The invitation was unnecessary ; they meant to have him nd he knew it. To shoot him down would have been easy, but that was not what they wanted. With a sudden surge they drove forward. Three times he fired, aiming low--he had no desire to kill any of them--and then one of the men he had felled clutched him round the knees. Thrown violently backwards, Jim had to drop his guns and grab a nearby chair to keep his feet. He kicked himself free, felt his boot-heel impact on flesh and bone, and they were upon him. Swinging the chair above his head he flailed the leaders with it. Two went downgroaning, and of the weapon only the back remained in his grasp. With this and his fist he continued the unequal contest until a blow from behind brought him to his knees and the human avalanche submerged him.

For a few hectic moments the cowboy struck or kicked whenever he could free a limb but at last the writhing tangle broke up to disclose a battered, unconscious form on the floor. The sheriff regarded it with savage satisfaction.

"Tie an' chuck him in the calaboose," he ordered. "He'll pay for this, even if Jud comes through."

When the prisoner had been carried away, willing hands helped to straighten up the battlefield, rearranging overturned tables and chairs and removing fragments of others. The saloon-keeper's expression was one of deep disgust.

"Many customers like him an' this business would be plain hell," he remarked. "Allasame, he put up the purtiest scrap agin odds I ever see, an' warn't he sudden?"

"Sudden?" ejaculated the man who had received the first blow, tenderly touching a swollen jaw. "I reckon yu said it, Teddy. `Sudden' describes him from hair to toe-nails ; we'll have to christen him thatt Set 'em up, of hoss."

The idea appealed to their sense of humour, and with jesting comments, they drank to the new name of the man they had fought with, and whom they would just as cheerfully help to hang. The sheriff, cursing as the doctor bandaged his damaged wrist, contributed a grim witticism :

"Mister Sudden'll come to a sudden end in the mornin'."

"An' that'll be a pity," the medico smiled, as he surveyed the group of patients awaiting his services. "He'd make my fortune if he settled here."

At which even some of the sufferers grinned. After all, though about a dozen had been more or less crippled, no one had been killed, a fact to which the saloon-keeper drew attention :

"I'm bettin'--if he'd wanted to--he could 'a' turned three or four o' yu into cold meat," was how he put it. "I was watchin' an' them guns 'peared to leap into his paws. yu can gamble he can use 'em ; yore head is a bigger mark than yore wrist, sheriff."

Mallick turned a malignant eye upon him. "Why not make a gory hero out'n this murderin' thief an' be done with it?" he sneered. "Jud'll be pleased."

p

"Sheriff's right, Teddy," another chimed in, whose un-leasing countenance a pair of blackening eyes did not improve. `The fella's a bad actor. I ain't shore we oughtn't to stretch him right away."

"He'll keep," Mallick said darkly.

The Fourways gaol was a small, one-roomed hut built of stout logs, the iron-barred window a foot square, and the sole furniture a rough bench along the back. It was on the hard-packed earthen floor of this place that the man from Crawling Creek came back to consciousness, his bemused mind groping for an explanation. His hands were tied, his head throbbed, and when he attempted to move, his body appeared to be one big bruise. The pain stirred his sluggish memory and his swollen lips twisted in a lop-sided grin.

"'Pears like they got me," he muttered. "She was shorely a great little battle--while she lasted."

For a while he lay there, supine, content to remain just still, idly speculating upon what was to come.

"Wonder how Jud is makin' it? If he passes out ..." The reflection was not conductive to comfort. The wounded man was his only hope, a poor one at that, after the happenings in the saloon.

"Mebbe I'd oughta give in," he told himself, and then, "Shucks, that sheriff was sot on swingin' me anyways."

It was very dark and no sound came from the town ; he judged that the night must be well advanced. Despite his bound wrists, he managed to find the "makings" and construct a cigarette. He had but just lighted it when a faint chink of metal against metal and a muttered oath came from outside. His first thought was that some of the citizens had grown impatient, but the lack of noise argued against that ; lynchers would be in force and would care little if they were heard. A slight creak followed, and the darkness was less deep where the door had been. A shadow slipped into the hut, paused on the threshold, and chuckled as the prisoner became dimly visible.

"Yo're a nervy cuss," the visitor said gruffly, "but I guess yu ain't anxious to figure in a necktie-party?"

"yu don't need to guess again," was the reply. "It's an interestin' sight but lookin' at it through the loop of a rope don't improve it any."

"My sentiments exactly," the unknown agreed. He cut the captive's bonds. "Here's yore guns--the sheriff thinks he's got 'em." He laughed quietly. "yore hogs is outside--saddled ; yu'd better stretch him. I'm tellin' yu plenty serious this burg has on'y one use for yu."

In the faint grey light outside, Jim studied his liberator but could make little of him. A square, stocky figure of medium height, dressed in range rig, with hat-brim pulled down and a bandana covering the lower part of his face. His low, husky voice had a curious metallic timbre.

"I like to pay my debts, an' I shorely owe yu a lot," the young man said.

"Nothin' to that," came the quick reply. "I'm payin' one my own self--yu done me a good turn to-night. Mebbe we'll meet again."

It was plain that he wished to remain unknown, and Jim swung into the saddle. "If we do yu can count on me to the limit," he said simply.

"Get agoin'," the stranger replied. "Adios--Sudden," and the chuckle was once more in-evidence.

At a walking pace the fugitive passed through the silent town, the deep dust of the street muffling the horse's footsteps. Once clear of the buildings, he patted the sleek neck and Nigger settled down to a steady lope which would devour distance and leave the animal still fresh.

The rider, greedily drinking in the cool air, was conscious of a fierce elation in his freedom. For Jim knew that he had escaped an ignominious death only by the good offices of a stranger. Who was this man, and why had he intervened? What was the "good turn" to which he had referred?

"Mebbe he was thankin' me for cripplin' the sheriff," Jim reflected. "I'd say Mallick ain't liked overmuch."

It came into his mind that his deliverer had called him "Sudden," and the mystery seemed to be solved.

"Took me for some other fella, shore enough," he concluded. "Wonder who this `Sudden' person is, anyways?"

He was to learn, ere many days, and get no joy of the knowledge.

Chapter III

SEVERAL days of wandering in the wilds--for he had avoided the regular trails--brought the man from Crawling Creek to San Antonio, at that time the Mecca of the cattleman, and the happy-hunting ground of the gambler and desperado. Though Jim still mourned the loss of his only.friend, change of scene had dulled the ache. A young and vigorous man, with a good horse between his knees, and all his life before him, cannot long remain a prey to melancholy. But his determination to find and punish Evesham's enemies had not lessened.

Since his hurried departure from Fourways he had not seen a human being, sleeping with his saddle for a pillow, and living upon the game his gun had procured. His first thought now was for a square meal for himself and his mount. These were soon found, and leaving the animal in the livery stable, he set out to "take in the town."

Though there were many people about, most of whom seemed to have something to do, no one hurried. Huge wagons, drawn by sleepy-eyed oxen, plodded through the street, the great creaking wheels revolving slowly ; the caballeros, picturesquely attired and mounted on magnificent steeds, paced by to dismount gracefully but without exertion at a store or saloon. The manana spirit of Old Mexico was all-pervading.

About to enter the Buckhorn Saloon, that famous rendezvous, the Texan paused abruptly, his eye caught by a single word on a square of paper affixed to the wall.

"Sudden!"

The crudely printed bill offered a reward of five hundred dollars for the apprehension of one "Sudden," wanted for robbery and murder. A description was given: "young, dark hair and moustache, grey-blue eyes, dressed as a cowboy, wears two guns, and rides a black horse with a white blaze on face and white stocking on off fore-leg." The notice bore the name of the sheriff of Fourways.

For a moment the young man stared at it in blank amazement, and then, as the full significance came home, anger surged within him. Not only was he to be hounded down for a crime of which he knew nothing, but he had been given a name which would follow him wherever he went. In a word,he was outlawed ; the hand of everyman would be against him, and he was liable to be shot like a mad dog. Impulsively he made a gesture to tear away the placard.

"I wouldn't," a warning voice said. "If yo're honin' for one as a sooveneer there's others in less prominent places ; the town is fair spotted with 'em."

He turned and found the speaker at his elbow, a tall, spare fellow in the thirties, with a lean, angular face, close-set eyes, and thin lips wearing a smile intended to be friendly but which only succeeded in being malicious.

"If yore hoss tallies, that description would fit yu pretty good," the stranger went on.

Jim's jaw hardened. "If yu had a black hoss an' moustache yu might qualify yore own self," he retorted.

"But I don't have neither o' them things," the other grinned. "Both of 'em can be got rid of," Jim pointed out. "See here, I'll match a dollar with yu to settle which of us takes the other in an' claims the cash."

The stranger laughed outright. "yo're a cool card," he said. "No, sir, they might glom on to the pair of us. I got a better proposition. I know a fella who'd be glad to meet yu."

"If he's wearin' a star ..."

"He ain't, an' he's got no use for them as do," the unknown replied. "Hook up with him an' yu needn't let that"--he spat contemptuously at the notice--"scare yu."

"Did I mention I was scared?" Jim asked frostily. "Alla-same, I ain't huntin' trouble."

The man nodded. "Ever hear o' Rogue's Riders?" he asked. Jim had. Under the leadership of a man named Roger, but more generally known as "Rogue," they were perhaps the most notorious of the bands of desperadoes who raided and robbed over a wide area of south-west Texas.

"Pleased to meet yu, Mister Roger," he said dryly.

"Oh, I ain't Rogue," the stranger laughed. "He's the fella I was speakin' of, an' I can fetch yu to him."

"Much obliged, but I figure I can take care o' li'l Mister Me," the cowboy grinned.

"Well, she's a free country. If yu should find yoreself crowded, head west till yu come to the Split Rock--yu can't mistake her--foller the left trail an' yu'll be looked after. Sabe?"

Jim nodded his thanks and turned away in the direction of the livery stable. Though he had displayed indifference to the man who had warned him, he had no illusions regarding the danger of his position and knew that he must get away from San Antonio without delay. At any moment he might be linked up with that damning description. The gaze of the man he had left followed him for a moment, a sneer of chagrin on his slit of a mouth.

"Can take care o' yoreself, huh? Well, that wouldn't surprise me." he muttered. `But when the deck is stacked, my friend...." He lifted his shoulders. "Rogue wants yu, an' a fella as won't be persuaded must be drove."

Striding down the street, he pushed open the door of one of the smaller saloons and peeped in. Apparently what he saw satisfied him. for he entered. It was a mere dive, dark, dirty, and ill-kept. Three men sitting at a battered table with empty glasses before them, and the Mexican lolling behind the bar, comprised the company. The newcomer called for a drink and remarked aloud, with seeming irrelevance:

"Shore is a sorry sight."

One of the trio at the table, a craggy-faced fellow with greedy little eyes, looked up hopefully. "Yu said it, friend," he grunted. "But when gents is down to bed-rock. .

The stranger laughed. "Oh, that's soon remedied," he said, and signed to the bartender.

While the glasses were being replenished he studied the thirsty ones with an appraising expression of disdain. He did not know them, but he knew their kind. Though they were drinking to him now, he was well aware that they would rob him if opportunity offered.

"yu got me wrong," he explained. "What I was referrin' to was the sight o' five hundred wheels gettin' ready to ride outa this town, to say nothin' of a fine black hoss with a white blaze, an' a saddle the present owner shouldn't have much further use for."

Craggy Face looked up. "Yu tellin' us that jasper Sudden is around?" he asked.

"Just that," the other returned. "Saw him readin' the bill outside the Buckhorn ; he was mighty interested too, an' then he streaks for Juan's livery stable. What do yu guess?"

"If yo're shore, why didn't you hold him up an'" Craggy Face began.

"Collect the mazuma, huh?" the stranger finished. "Well, for one thing, he knows me, an' there's another reason to that why I can't take any part in the affair."

He stressed the last six words and the listeners smirked understandingly ; he was wanted himself, this hombre, and the chance of gaining five hundred dollars would not offset the likely loss of his liberty. Craggy Face again was the spokesman:

"Amounts to this: we take all the risk, an' . "

"All the reward--I don't want none of it," he was told. "I disremember if that notice said `dead or alive.' "

"It did not, an' I'm bettin' that Fourways fella ain't buyin' corpses."

Craggy Face emptied his glass and stood up, the other two following suit. Their informant added a word:

"I guess he'll take the western trail."

The ruffians nodded and went out. The stranger waited to absorb another drink and then did likewise, keeping well behind. Presently he saw the man he had betrayed jog-trotting listlessly along the street, heading--as he had surmised--for the western exit from the town. Callous as he was, he could not but admire the young fellow's nerve.

"He's the right stuff, shore as shootin'," he soliloquized. "Kind o' hombre Rogue can use. If them rats ain't weakened, they gotta do it here ; he'll be in the open soon."

As the black horse approached, he slid round the corner of a shack, from whence he could watch unobserved. Save that his hat was slouched over his face, the wanted rider appeared to be indifferent to his danger. But beneath the brim, his keen eyes scanned each passer-by, alert for the least sign of undue interest in himself, every sense taut and ready for action. So that he was not taken by surprise when three men, strolling aimlessly along the board sidewalk, abruptly swerved into the road in front of him, pulled their guns, and shouted:

"Han's up, Sudden!"

Jim did not hesitate--made no attempt to parley. The revelation of his identity--an astute move on the part of his attackers--would bring them immediate aid. Dropping the reins--already knotted for just such an emergency--over the saddle-horn, his hands went up, but with a gun in each. As they rose he fired both weapons, once, and his opponents on the right and left went down. Then, with a pressure of his knees. Jim jumped Nigger full at the man in the middle Craggy Face. With an oath of dismay, the fellow saw the black thunderbolt hurling itself upon him and tried to leap aside. He nearly succeeded, but the massive shoulder caught and drove him into the dust.

The whole affair had occupied but a few seconds, and by the time the almost petrified pedestrians had realized the facts, the fugitive was two hundred yards away. Ineffectual shots were fired and then he was no more than a diminishing dot on the trail. The man behind the shack smiled felinely and did not join the group round the discomfited reward-hunters.

For some miles Jim rode hard, without looking back. When at length he did so he saw no sign of pursuit and eased his mount. He reloaded his pistols, thrust them back into the holsters, and swore with savage anger at the thought of the price he had had to pay for his freedom. This second exploit had put him definitely outside the pale of the law. Despite the sparse population, the story of it would travel quickly in a land where topics for conversation were few and.news of any kind eagerly retailed.

Head hanging, he puzzled over the problem of what to do. Southern Texas was closed to him--entering any settlement would probably result in having to shoot his way out of it, thus only adding to his unwanted reputation. The nearest border was hundreds of miles distant and he was without supplies. The dull beat of hammering hooves apprised him that he had been careless. Turning, he. saw a compact group of about a dozen riders pounding across the plain. San Antonio was not minded to let a noted desperado escape without making an effort.

The posse was less than half a mile behind and the members of it were doubtless congratulating themselves upon an easy capture when they saw the black horse quicken its stride and begin to draw away. Spurring and quirting their mounts they decreased the gap again, several pulling out their rifles and firing in the hope of a lucky shot. The cowboy felt the wind of a bullet on his cheek, others zipped through the grass beneath the flying feet of his horse, and a cold fury flamed in him.

"That's a game two can play at," he grated.

Dropping the reins, he drew his rifle from the sheath under the fender, twisted round in the saddle and flung four shots at the bunched-up party of pursuers. Two of the ponies wentdown, throwing their riders heavily, a man reeled, clutched at the air, and pitched sideways to the ground. The posse, disorganized by this disaster, pulled up, and the quarry, with a wave of defiance, vanished over a fold in the surface of the plain. His own kind had made him an outlaw, had hunted and fired on him as though he were a dangerous animal. Well, he would accept the verdict.

"Nothin' else for it, Nig," he told his horse. "We gotta find Mister Rogue ; he's our best bet."

It was a small salve to his conscience to reflect that among the desperate class of men he was now being driven to mix with, he was more likely to find those of whom he was in search. From the top of a slight rise he looked for the posse, but it was not in sight.

"Kind o' lost their enthusiasm, mebbe," he said grimly, and rode on.

Gradually the character of the country changed, the open plain being broken by small, flat-topped mesas, shallow gullies, and occasional miniature forests of post-oak and mesquite, the latter sometimes of tree size. He halted at last before a great chunk of rock, with a curious V-shaped crack dividing it as from a giant axe-blow. The main trail--wagon-ruttedhere turned sharply to the north, but westward there were hoofprints leading down into what appeared to be a welter of canyons.

"Split Rock," the traveller decided. "Well, of hoss, this is where we say good-bye to a law-abidin' life."

With a mirthless, sardonic smile he sent his mount loping to the left, following the faint trail which plunged into the broken country, and came at length to the narrow mouth of a gorge, the rocky walls of which almost met. Half-way up, on a ledge about thirty yards distant, the rider's questing eye caught a flash of steel.

"Stick 'em up, stranger ; I got yu covered," boomed a voice, and a man with a levelled rifle rose into view.

Jim guessed this must be one of the bandits' sentinels. He had already decided on his own line of action, and though he halted, he did not obey the command to put up his hands. Instead he laughed satirically.

"I've had yu fixed for the last two minutes," he said. "yu oughta get that gun-barrel dulled some--I saw it away back. Got any ideas?"

"On'y this," the man replied, tapping his rifle.

Jim laughed unpleasantly. "Shucks, yu'd miss an' I wouldn't. Well, if it'll relieve yore mind any, I'm lookin' for a fella called Rogue."

"I take it yo're Sudden then."

"An' yu might be right at that," Jim smiled. "What about it?"

"I've had word to pass yu along," the guard admitted, "but yu'll have to leave yore hardware with me--I'll fetch 'em in later."

"Like hell yu will," the visitor retorted. "No, sir, me an' the li'l hoss have had a long ride, but we're plenty strong enough to tote my guns, yu betcha."

"It's the rule," the bandit grumbled.

"There's allus an exception--I'm it," Jim told him lightly, and then, dropping his bantering tone. "Cut the cackle ; either I go on or back, an' I don't give a damn which it is."

Sullenly the fellow motioned him on. "Go ahead," he said. "See yu later--mebbe."

Jim sensed the sinister implication and laughed. "Yu will, if nothin' don't happen to yu meantime."

The man appeared to have an afterthought. "Anybody follerin' yu?" he asked.

"Yo're a reg'lar question mark, ain't yu?" was the sarcastic reply. "Did I seem to be hurryin'?"

Half a mile farther on he rounded a bend and saw that the perpendicular sides of the gorge closed in ; apparently there was no outlet. He had pulled up, and was studying the grey, weather-stained walls when a man stepped abruptly from behind a big boulder and strolled nonchalantly towards him. lie was carrying a rifle, and though he did not raise the weapon, his finger was on the trigger.

He was young, about his own age, Jim figured--though he lad never known precisely what that was ; his hair and moustache were very red, his blue eyes very pale, and the grin on his good-looking face very impudent. In a land where ittle attention was paid to such matters, the cleanliness and neatness of his attire drew the eye. He was obviously surprised to find the visitor armed.

"Meet a gent called Ropey back there?" he asked bluntly, pointing to the entrance of the gorge.

"I guess, but he didn't mention his name," Jim replied.

"An' he let yu pass with that ars'nal?" the young man went on "Yu musta showed him a good reason."

"I'm showin' yu the same," was the grim reply.

The youth looked at the levelled Colt which, having somehow got into its owner's hand, was now covering him, and laughed with affected dismay.

"Put her back in her li'l bed," he said. "I ain't arguin' with yu none whatever. Do we have to plant Ropey?"

"I reckon it would be premature--he was a healthy corpse when I left him," the visitor replied gravely, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, and the menacing gun had vanished.

"Glad yu didn't hurt Ropey, I hate diggin'," red-head remarked. "I figure yo're here to see our revered chief an' that yore name is mebbe--Sudden?"

"I've been called that," Jim admitted.

"Good enough," the other said, and pointed to the end of the gorge. "There's an opening under the cliff, an' on the other side yu'll see the select but not pop'lar hamlet o' Rogueville, consistin' of a few undesirable villas tenanted by still more undesirable villains, of whom I am one. The man yu wanta see ain't the biggest rogue but he has the name an' the say-so. Savvy?"

Having delivered this satirical address, he leaned his rifle against a rock and began to fashion a cigarette.

"Ain't s'posed to smoke on this job but I never could obey orders, which explains me," he grinned. "See yu again, I hope.

The visitor expressed the same desire and went on his way. He found the opening--cleverly concealed by an outflung buttress of rock--and rode through. Before him lay a beautiful little oval-shaped basin, the grass-covered floor of which sloped up on every side to an enclosing rampart of rock. In the centre, a tiny circular lake, fringed with willows, gleamed amid the surrounding green like a huge silver coin. Cattle and horses were grazing near and on the far side of the valley were several log shacks.

By the time he reached them some half-dozen men had appeared ; there had been no one in sight when he entered the valley. A brief glance told the visitor that red-head had probably described them correctly.

"An' what th' hell might yu be wantin'?" asked one, a coarse-faced, broken-nosed fellow.

. "Civility first, from yu," Jim snapped. "An' then--to see yore boss."

The reply produced a scowl and a sneer. "We don't go much on bosses here. If yu want Rogue, he's there."

Following the direction of the jerked thumb, Jim walked his horse to a shack some twenty yards away, in the doorway of which a man was standing watching the proceedings with- out apparent interest. The bandit leader did not look formidable. Over forty, shortish but heavily built, with greying hair and beard, he might have passed for a prosperous rancher. He greeted his guest with a grin.

"Light an' rest yore saddle," he said, and the low, husky voice seemed familiar.

Jim got down and trailed the reins. "Best tell yore men to leave this hoss alone--he don't like strangers," he warned.

"They won't interfere with him," Rogue replied. His gaze dwelt on the animal. "Shore is a beauty, an' yu trained him right. Like a woman, a hoss any man can handle ain't no good."

They entered the shack. It consisted of one room only, furnished with a pallet-bed on which blankets were spread, a rough, home-made table, and chairs with rawhide seats. Pegs driven into the log walls supported guns, bridles, ropes and other paraphernalia of the range. Rogue pointed to a chair and produced a bottle and glassest

"Well, yu got here-Sudden," he said.

This time there could be no mistake. "So it was yu?" Jim said, and smiled. "I guess that sheriff man was peeved."

"Peeved?" repeated the other. "He was madder'n a teased rattler an' twice as 'poisonous. He'd 'a' stretched yu."

"So Judson--died?"

"yeah, durin' the night; never opened an eye again." There was silence for a few moments and then Jim said, "I'm still wonderin' why yu--interfered?"

Rogue laughed. "I don't like sheriffs nohow an' yu put up a pretty fight," he explained. "'Sides, yu done me a service."

"I'm still in the dark," the visitor persisted.

The outlaw hesitated for a space, his hard grey eyes studying the boy before him ; but he learned nothing.

"I'm playin' straight with yu, Sudden," he said, and the husky voice had a harsh note in it. "If yu hadn't been therethey'd have picked on me an' I had Judson's money-belt round my middle."

Jim sat up. "yu did it?" he cried, jolted out of his impassivity.

"Yeah, but I didn't wanta kill the fool," Rogue said. "I got the drop on him an' I'm steppin' in to take his gun when he jumps his hoss at me. I try to wing him but he's movin' yu see, an' ." He shrugged his shoulderst There was no regret in his voice ; rather there was blame for a murdered man who had not played the game properly, and paid the penalty. "I was a plain fool to come into town but I figured him finished. I had to have the coin ; things have been quiet lately an' the boys was gettin' restive."

The latter remark sounded like an excuse, but Jim knew it was not so intended ; Rogue was simply giving him all the facts. To Jim, the important point was that this man who had coolly confessed to the crime had not been content to let another suffer for it, and he, Jim, owed his life to him ; he could not condemn, and in his present rebellious attitude to his own kind, had no wish to.

"What made yu think I'd come here?" he asked.

"I saw them bills an' knew Mallick would close the towns to yu," Rogue explained. "Reckoned yu'd make for San Antonio an' sent one o' my men to watch for yu. Didn't he find yu?"

"Shore, but it wasn't him sent me," Jim said, and told of the attempted arrest and chase.

If the outlaw smiled it was behind his beard ; he guessed the part his envoy had played. His comment contained more than a touch of admiration :

"Three fellas, with their guns out, an' then yu busted up the posse! Yu ain't losin' any time justifyin' yore label. Sudden."

"My name's Jim--I'd liefer yu called me that."

"Mine's Roger, but everybody calls me Rogue an' I dunno as I care. Allasame, Jim goes with me. Now, yu better stick around awhile, yo're safe here. Later on, yu can decide 'bout stayin' ; I'm hopin' yu will ; I want a fella I can trust."

"I'm obliged to yu," the visitor said.

"Shucks, it's shore up to me to watch out for yu," Rogue rejoined. "yu can double up with Sandy, an' we all feed together in the big cabin. Now, there's another thing : yore face wouldn't look no worse without hair on it."

He rummaged on a shelf and produced a bottle. "This dye'll wipe out them markin's. I'll show yu yore quarters."

He led the way to a little hut standing rather apart from the others, built of unbarked logs, clinked with clay. As they approached a cheerful but unmelodious voice within announced that it was "his night to howl."

"An' he's shorely doin' it," Rogue said, with a saturnine smile. "Hey, Sandy, I've brung yu a bunkie."

The young man who emerged proved to be the second sentinel of the gorge and his face opened in a wide grin when he saw the new-corner.

"Shucks, it's shorely up to me to watch out for yu," Rogue introduced. "yu can put him wise an' make him known to the boys."

"Pleased to," Sandy said, shaking hands.

When the outlaw leader had gone, with a word that he would see them at supper, Sandy turned to the visitor.

"I'm lucky to get yu," he said. "Last fella I bunked with musta been bit by a mad dawg some time, the sight o' water gave him the fan-tods."

Together they inspected the quarters. Two beds--mere frames with strips of rawhide nailed across them, a couple of up-ended boxes for seats, a cracked mirror, and a few pegs comprised the furniture. The previous sole owner of all this magnificence waited covertly for comment, but when the stranger spoke it was about something entirely different.

"Yu ain't been with this crowd very long," he said.

Sandy stared at him and retorted quizzically, "Tell me somethin' about my future, Mister Medicine Man."

"Shore," Sudden smiled. "I'm sayin' yu won't be with 'em a great while, neither."

Sandy grinned. "Now I'll do a bit o' wizardin'," he said. "Listen, yo're a nifty poker player, an' yu an' me is goin' to he good friends."

They shook hands on that, and then, having brought in his saddle, blankets, and war-bag, the visitor proceeded to shave off his moustache. Sandy watched the operation in silence and then laughed slyly.

"I grow one an' yu get shut o' yores--funny, ain't it?" he emarked, and, inspecting the result critically, "It certainlymakes a difference. What yu goin' to do with the bottle?"

"Rogue thinks my hoss would look better all black, an' I'm inclined to agree with him," Sudden explained, his eyes twinkling.

The removal of the tell-tale marks did not take long and when the horse had been turned loose to graze, Sandy suggested that it was getting near grub-time. On the way, Sudden put a question.

"Rogue ain't a bad of scout but difficult to figure," was the reply. "There's times he's near human an' others when he can be a devil from hell, gotta be, I reckon, with the team he has to handle ; there ain't a tougher crowd between Kansas an' the Rio Grande."

Sudden's own observations during the meal supported this description. Sandy alone seemed to be of a different type ; somehow he did not "belong." Rogue's remark anent a "man he could trust" no longer astonished him.

They fed at a long table in the largest building, which served as a general living-room for the community. Rogue sat at one end, and at the other was a man who immediately attracted the attention of the new-comer. In the thirties, of medium height, slim and supple, he had the face of a demon. The acquiline nose, high cheek-bones, cruel mouth and lank, black hair proclaimed a mixed origin, despite his yellowish-white skin, and Sudden was not surprised to hear him addressed as "Navajo." His dark eyes, flashing from beneath lowered lids, and sinuous movements, were reptilian. He was, Sandy whispered, a sort of second in command of the band. Rogue's presentation was perfunctory:

"Boys, this is Jim," he said. "He's stayin' with us a while."

Nods and a muttered "Howdy" here and there came in response, and the men went on with the business of filling their bellies. The food was good and plentiful. Not until their voracious appetites were appeased and pipes or cigarettes lighted did the company take much notice of the guest. Then he came in for a good deal of furtive scrutiny.

Presently, when most of the men were playing or watching a card game, he slipped away, and from a bench outside, sat gazing over the valley. It was a restful sight : the green expanse, with its verdure-ringed pool and grazing beasts, the rock-rimmed walls where the gathering shadows heralded the approaching night, and to the west, a lingering golden glory in the sky.

"Looks peaceful, don't it?" Sandy said, squatting beside his new chum.

"Shore does."

Sandy did not pursue the subject. He sensed the bitterness n the tone, guessed what the speaker might be thinking, but knew he must not ask. Though they felt a mutual attraction, these two, they had exchanged no confidences.

Chapter IV

ROGUE was absent from the breakfast table on the following morning, but there was a new arrival in the person of the man Sudden had seen in San Antonio. He grinned cheerfully at the cowboy and, when the meal was over, beckoned him outside.

"So yu changed yore mind?" was how he opened the conversation.

"Yu might call it that," was the sardonic reply.

"Aimin' to throw in with Rogue?"

Sudden did not reply at once. Despite the man's apparent friendliness, he did not like him ; there was a lurking malignancy which suggested that he enjoyed the misfortunes of others.

"I ain't decided," he said, adding savagely, "What else is there for me to do?"

"Come a-swimmin'--that's what."

It was Sandy who had answered the question, and he smiled ' as he waved a hand to the pool, glittering in the bright sunshine like a jewel in a green setting. Sligh--so the outlaw was called--shrugged disdainful shoulders.

"yu did oughta remember them critters has to drink that water," he said.

"Which is why yu don't go in, huh?" Sandy retorted.

The water looked cool and inviting and Sandy hurriedly divested himself of his clothing. Sudden followed his example but more leisurely. He watched the boy step lightly towards a jutting bit of bank which afforded a good place for a plungeand then snatched a gun from the belt he had just discarded and fired. Sandy whirled instantly.

"What the hell ... ?" he cried, and then, as he saw the bullet-shattered fiat venomous head and greenish-grey body thrashing about in the long grass only a yard from where he stood, his face paled. "A cotton-mouth!" he gasped. (The moccasin snake, when angry, appears to have its jaws stuffed with cotton-wool.) "Jim, I'm not forgettin' this--ever."

"Shucks," was the reply. "Saw him just in time."

"yu shore did--'nother step an' I'd 'a' trod on him," Sandy agreed, with a shiver.

A careful search of the bank revealed no more reptiles and they had their swim, but much of the enjoyment had gone. As they lay on the warm turf drying themselves in the sun, Sudden asked a question.

"There's a way out at the other end o' the valley," Sandy said. "Goin' ridin'?"

"Thought I'd look around ; don't seem to be much to do."

"We'll be busy to-morrow--the boys'll fetch in a bunch o' cattle--there's plenty mavericks in the brush. I'd go with yu but I gotta relieve Ropey, durn it."

Dried and dressed again they made their way to the bunkhouse, which they found empty, save for the cook.

Having fed, they got their horses and separated, Sandy turning east to set free a man who was eagerly awaiting him, and Sudden heading in the opposite direction.

The exit was easily found, a tunnel-like crack in the rim-rock just wide enough to permit the passage of a mounted man. There was little light, for the cliff overhead appeared to be unbroken and the far end of the opening was masked by a mass of dense scrub. The few tracks showed that this means of entering or leaving the valley was seldom used.

"Takin' a herd o' cattle through would be apt to keep a fella's tongue busy," the cowboy ruminated. "She'd be a useful bolt-hole though."

Sandy had already told him that the nearest settlement on this side of the valley was some thirty miles distant, and that the only habitation of importance was the S E ranch.

"Got a big range, has Sam Eden," the boy had said. "They say he owns a lot o' the land too. Dessay our valley belongs to him, but up to now he ain't served no writ of ejectment."

It was a wild bit of country into which Sudden emerged, a jumble of scrub-choked gullies, flat-topped mesas, ridges of bare rock, and forested slopes hemming in grass-covered savannahs. Every now and then, a fierce-eyed steer would break from a thicket, glare at the rider, and crash back into the brush. Some of these bore the S E brand but more were unmarked.

"Sandy was right," Sudden reflected. "Either Eden's outfit is damn careless or he ain't had a proper roundup in years. He can't holler if someone takes care o' them mavericks."

A little later, as he was riding the rim of a shallow ravine, he heard a startled cry, followed by the beat of galloping hooves. It was a woman's voice and he judged it came from just ahead. A whispered word quickened the speed of the big black and rounding a bend, the rider swore in angry surprise:

"Damnation!"

Along the bottom of the ravine, and only a few hundred yards away, a girl was desperately spurring her pony. A short distance behind, two mounted Indians were racing to overtake her. Sudden pulled up, swung his horse round, headed it for the inclined wall of the gully, and leaned back in the saddle. Nigger knew what was required ; bunching his feet together he slithered down the slope, and took up the chase. The long leaping stride of the black soon began to overhaul the poorer animals in front, but Sudden saw he had no time to waste ; already the foremost Indian had grabbed the bridle of the girl's pony and was endeavouring to drag her from the saddle.

She was resisting, striking at the savage with the butt of her quirt, and fearing that the fellow would do her an injury, he uttered a shout. Instantly the second redskin whirled, dropped his lance, his right hand flashing to the quiver behind his shoulder, and Sudden felt a searing pain at the side of his neck. With incredible speed, the Indian notched a second arrow but ere he could despatch it the white man's revolver roared and the redskin pitched to the ground. His companion, seeing what had happened, abandoned the girl, flogged his pony savagely up the steep bank of the ravine--which it climbed like a cat --and, with a whoop of defiance, vanished over the edge. The cowboy followed, but by the time he reached the top the fugitive was half a mile distant on an open plain. When Sudden returned the girl rode to meet him, a grateful smile on her firm lips.

"Thank you," she said, holding out a slim, gauntleted hand. Then, as her frank brown eyes studied this stranger who had so providentially come to her rescue, she saw blood on the collar of his shirt. "But you are hurt," she cried. '

"On'y a scratch--mebbe," he smiled.

"We'll wash and tie up that scratch," she said, and though he protested, had her way.

When the job was done to her satisfaction and they were in the saddle again, she turned to him with a smile.

"I am Carol Eden," she told him. "The S E ranchhouse is only about eight miles from here and my father will want to thank you."

"Why, there ain't no need--" he began, but she cut the protest short.

"He will think there is, and I agree with him. Besides, there may be other Indians about."

This was an unanswerable argument and again Sudden had to give in; he was beginning to realize that here was a young woman who usually got what she wanted. Riding side by side along the ravine he had an opportunity to study her more closely. She rode astride, cowboy fashion, and was clearly at home in the saddle, her slender form swaying in rhythm with the movements of her mount. Her neat shirt-waist, divided skirt, and riding-boots with tiny silver spurs provided a costume which showed her youthful figure to advantage. From beneath the broad-brimmed felt hat peeped rebellious brown curls which the sunlight turned to copper. He noted the wide-spaced brown eyes, the straight little nose, the firm but rounded chin, and spoke his thought:

"yu didn't oughta be ridin' alone so far from home." For a moment he feared she would resent the remark as an impertinence, and then she smiled. "I know it. Dad warned me, but I thought the Indians were quiet now. you see, I have been East, at college, for some time."

"Injuns is never quiet till they're like--him," the young man said grimly, with a jerk of his thumb backwards. "I'd oughta got that other ; I've a hunch I'll be seein' him again."

"I hope I don't," the girl said fervently. "I'll never forget that hideous painted face. If you hadn't come ..."

To take her away from the subject he mentioned that he too had recently returned from the East, and she looked at him with a new interest.

"Would you care to live there?" she asked.

He shook his head and smiled. "I couldn't stand it," he confessed. "This is my country ; a man can breathe without feel-in' he's robbin' another fella of air ; there's room for all."

"Except the Indian," she said, a little sadlyt

"Why, yo're right," he agreed. "An' it's shorely an odd thought that the time is comin' when, in this vast land, there won't be a place for the men who once owned it all. When the buffalo an' the game have gone, the redskin will follow.

He ain't adaptable ; educate him all yu please an' he's still a savage at heart."

"A case of the survival of the fittest?" she suggested.

"No, ma'am," her companion replied. "The Injun will lie, steal, an' murder, but if yo're his friend he'll die for yu. Some o' the white men who are wipin' him out will do all them things an' sell their own kin for a few dollars. On top o' that, the red man is a healthy hater."

"you rate that a virtue?" she said surprisedly.

He nodded, his face--which when he smiled was that of a boy--hard and grim as granite. The look warned her that she had plumbed hidden depths and aroused her woman's curiosity ; in the hope that he would respond in kind, she went on to speak of herself. He learned that she was not really an Eden, the rancher having adopted her some years earlier, when the death of her father--his old friend--left her unprotected.

"He has been very, very good to me," she finished softly. Her innocent little ruse proved unsuccessful. He told her his name and that was all. When she ventured a half-question, she received--as she had feared--only a half-answer:

"I'm just takin' a look at the country," he said.

"I'm glad you chose this bit of it to-day," Carol smiled. "We are near the ranch ; I must prepare for a tongue-lashing from Dad."

"He needn't to know," Sudden pointed out. "Yo're safe now ; I can fade--"

"No, I'll take my medicine," she told him, and in mock reproach, "I shall begin to think you don't like your company."

The cowboy's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I could bear to be with yu a whole lot, ma'am," he said gravely.

Chapter V

THE S E ranch-house was not beautiful but was eminently adapted to the purpose for which it had been erected. It stood in the middle of a small, level plain which afforded no cover whatever for an attacking force, and the walls, constructed of squared logs, were loop-holed on all sides. Of one storey only, it comprised a large living-room, bedrooms, and a kitchen. Immediately behind was an ample corral, and to the left, a bunkhouse for the outfit, a barn and smithy.

On the broad, covered porch which extended along the front of the building two men were sitting. The elder, short, big-shouldered, dressed in range rig, was Sam Eden, owner of the ranch. Though he was past fifty, only his iron-grey hair betrayed the fact ; the keen blue eyes, firm lips beneath a clipped moustache, and pugnacious jaw all spoke of virility ; the deep cleft between the bushy brows told of temper.

The other man was of a different type. Tall, not yet forty, his fleshy, clean-shaven face appeared unusually pale in that land of bronzed skins. It was not an attractive face--the flattish nose, rather prominent eyes, and thick lips had a negroid character, and in fact, Jethro Baudry had sometimes been described as a "white nigger." His attire formed a striking contrast to that of his host: a "boiled" shirt, neatly-tied cravat, and long black Prince Albert coat. His hands were carefully tended: they had to be, for Baudry was by profession a gambler, though he was now sitting in a bigger game. His expressionless gaze studied the man before him.

"So you are going to take the chance, Sam?" he said.

"Shore I am--nothin' else for it," the rancher replied. "Yu see, Jethro, I want things clear for Carol--case anythin' happens to me. Sabe?"

"you don't think I'd press her, do you?" Baudry asked. "No ; but yo're mortal too, an' gamblin' aint the safest callin'," Eden replied bluntly.

"I can take care of myself," Baudry said with a thin smile. "Still, there's the chance. Setting that aside, you know I'm willing to wait?"

"Shore, yu've been mighty good lettin' me have the coin, Jethro," the rancher said warmly. "But think of it, man; a hundred thousand acres that, in a few years' time, may be worth as many dollars as I've paid cents for 'em. Wouldn't yu wanta feel it really belonged to yu?"

Actually the gambler was feeling just that, but his bland features expressed nothing of the greed which possessed him.

"Natural enough ; but these big drives are risky they tell me," he rejoined. "You may lose your herd."

"I'm losin' 'em anyway," the cattleman said bitterly ; and reading the question in the other's eyes, "Yeah, rustlers, o' course. It's an easy play ; the beasts is scattered in the brush an' a lot must be unbranded ; our round-ups aint been too thorough the last year or so--I couldn't afford a large outfit --an' what was the use when all yu could get for a steer was a few dollars for the hide an' taller? An' for that yu gotta drive 'em to a coast-town, which cut the profit to near nothin' a-tall.

"Now, they tell me, it's different ; the East needs beef ; the Gov'ment wants it to feed the Injuns on the reservations when they can git the war-whoops to stay on 'em ; the northern ranchers have discovered that the buffalo grass on their big plains will fatten cows, an' they're lookin' for stock. There's a shippin' point at Abilene, Kansas, an' beasts worth little more'n nothin' here will fetch as much as fifteen dollars or more apiece."

"Certainly sounds good," the younger man said. "If you can make it."

"I gotta make it, or bust," Eden said grimly. "Anyways, yo're sittin' pretty, Jethro ; if I win through, yu get yore dinero ; if I don't, the ranch is yores ; yu needn't to worry."

"I don't intend to," Baudry assured him ; and again a fleet ing smile swept over his pale face. Then he asked casually, "Any news of that son of yours?"

The rancher's brows met in a heavy frown. "I've no son," he said harshly. "When he went from here he stepped outa my life ; I'll be glad if yu'll remember that, Jethro." And, after a pause, "No, I ain't heard nothin'."

The other made no comment, but in his eyes there was a gleam of satisfaction.

"When do you expect to start north?"

"Soon as we can gather an' road-brand a sizable herd. Hello, who's that with Carol?"

The girl and her companion, having left their mounts at the corral, had suddenly appeared round the end of the ranch-house. Baudry rose and bowed to the lady, whose expression did not convey too warm a welcome. Murmuring a formal greeting, she turned to the cattleman.

"Dad, this is Mister Green, and I've brought him, much against his wish"--she smiled at the culprit--"because I knew you would want to thank him."

In a few words she told the story of her adventure and Sam Eden's face paled beneath its tan as he comprehended the terrible fate she had so narrowly escaped. Impulsively his hand went out.

"young fella," he said, "if there's anythin' I've got an' yu want, name it. yu couldn't 'a' done me a greater service." Sudden gripped the proffered fist. "It don't need speakin' of, seh," he said. "I happened to be handy, an' ..." He bogged down and looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

The rancher realized his feelings ; he knew the breed--they would rather oe blamed than thanked. He turned to the girl.

"As for yu, miss, didn't I tell yu" he began sternly. Before he could say any more her arm was through his and her cheek against his shoulder.*

"Now don't be an old bear ; I'll 'fess up," she smiled. "Of course you warned me, and I was wrong to go so far, but I didn't think of Indians."

"It ain't on'y them pesky critters," the old man growled. "yu might 'a' met up with some o' Rogue's Riders--his hide out is somewhere around." He looked at the cowboy quizzi cally. "yu don't happen to belong to that gang, do yu?" Sudden shook his head, grinned, and repeated the reply he had given the girl. "I'm from the south ; havin' a look at the country."

The explanation satisfied the cattleman ; he was aware that the range rider was a restless animal, liable to fork his horse and set out, at short notice or none at all, in search of fresh fields. He liked the look of this loose-limbed, competent appearing stranger.

At the meal to which they sat down later, Eden reverted to the momentous step he was contemplating, asking the cow boy if he had any experience of trail-driving?

"On'y short distances," Sudden told him. "Never been north ; but I hear it ain't no picnic."

The rancher nodded grimly. "Others have done it, an' I'm gain' to," he said. "Like to come along? I can do with a couple more men." He saw the hesitation, and added, "Think --we won't be ready yet awhile."

Sudden promised he would do so, and asked the probable size of the herd.

"I'm hopin' for three thousand head," Eden said. "Take some handlin' but I got a good outfit. The pay is thirty a month an' every man gets a share when we sell the cattle."

The cowboy nodded. He liked the rancher, recognized him as a good specimen of the bluff, straightforward frontiersmen *ho, penetrating and settling in the wildest parts of the country, were preparing the way for the civilization which would inevitably follow. Baudry he did not take to, instinct telling him that under the smooth exterior lurked passions by no means in keeping with it. Once or twice he caught him looking at the girl, plain desire in his eyes.

"Miss Carol, of course, will remain here," the gambler said.

"Miss Carol, of course, will--not," the lady promptly stated.

Her father looked at her in astonishment. "Don't talk foolish, girl," he said. "There's no place for a lone woman on a trail drive."

Carol's reply appeared to be irrelevant. "Aren't you taking Peg-leg?"

"Shore I am ; we'd do fine without a cook, wouldn't we?"

"Then you'll have to take his wife--Judy won't let him go without her--so I shan't be `a lone woman,' you see." The rancher's face was clouding up, but she did not wait for the storm to burst. "Can't I ride, rope, and drive cattle as well as the boys?" she asked, and when he nodded a grudging assent, she added triumphantly, "Well then, you get a top-hand for nothing, and you grumble. But of course, you were only teasing ; you meant I should go all the time. I must tell Judy."

She jumped up, blew him a kiss, and danced away. Her parent opened his lips to call her back, but was too late. He turned to his guests with a droll expression of hopelessness.

"I can handle the savagest steer or woolliest cowboy that ever forked a pony, but when it comes to what some funny fella called the `weaker sex,' I'm beat," he confessed. "That bit o' impudence does what she likes with me."

Sudden left soon after the meal, returning the way he had come. The body of the dead Indian had vanished ; his companion must have returned. The circumstance was to bear a significance later, but now he gave it no thought. His brain was busy with the offer he had jus received. It seemed to present a means of getting out of the mire into which chance had so unceremoniously thrown him ; and moreover, the very enterprise itself appealed to his adventurous nature. The task of shepherding three thousand wild cattle through eight or nine hundred miles of fierce, untamed country seemed worthy of a man, and there was the added incentive that, in the lawless cow-towns of the north, he might find the fellows he was seeking. But he would not decide yet, for though, when necessity demanded, he could think and act with lightning speed, he was a deliberate person. And because of that, he would not mention his afternoon's experience--even to Sandy.

"I'm bettin' he's straight," he told himself. "But our friendship is some recent."

When he reached the valley hg found the men loafing outside the large cabin, smoking and yarning. Having disposed of his horse, he joined them. Rogue had apparently not yet returned. They watched him curiously as he seated himself on a bench next to Sandy, who was looking uneasy.

"Supper's through," that young man remarked, and then, in a whisper, "Suthin's up, dunno what, but watch out."

"I've fed," Sudden replied.

He had already sensed the air of expectancy with which his arrival had been greeted, and guessed that some attempt to "try him out" might be made.

Navajo and Ropey, standing six or seven yards away, were engaged in an argument, their voices rising. Sudden noticed that the other men were watching them. Presently Ropey, who was rolling a cigarette, snapped out an oath, and cried:

"Texas? I can tell yu what I think of it right now. When a Texan dies an' goes to hell--as they all do--he shore figures he's in heaven."

He had turned as he spoke and his narrowed eyes were glaring at the visitor. It was a direct challenge, as all knew, and the chatter ceased. Sudden, lounging on the bench, took no notice, and Ropey, with a grin of contempt, struck a match. Ere he could apply it to the cigarette between his lips, a gun flamed from the lounger's hip and the light was extinguished.

"What th' hell! " the man gasped. "I'm from Texas," Sudden quietly stated, and waited.

But Ropey had nothing to say ; the fragment of wood remaining in his fingers appeared to hypnotize him. Sudden addressed himself to the others generally:

"Any fella is free to damn Texas," he said, "but if he looks at me while he's doin' it, I take it as personal."

Ropey made a desperate attempt to save his face. "I was on'y joshin'," he expostulated.

"Same here," Sudden told him, with a cold smile. "If I hadn't been, I could 'a' put yore light out pretty permanent."

This raised a laugh, in which, however, neither Navajo nor the victim of the "joke" joined. Later on, when the visitor and Sandy had retired, the incident was again discussed. It was Navajo who brought it up.

"Didn't think yu'd be scared by a bit o' trick-shootin', Ropey," he sneered. "Anybody knows it's the wind o' the ullet puts the flame out."

"Trick-shootin' my eye," Ropey retorted. "That match-tick was cut clean in half, a left-hand shot, an' him sittin' down. He's a born gunfighter, that fella ; he'd have to try--to miss."

And because the speaker was deemed only second to Navajo in that gang of expert gunmen his word carried weight. One only still expressed scornful doubt, and Ropey did not let it pass.

"Take him on yoreself, Navajo," he challenged. "He's all yores--hide, horns, an' taller--an' I'm bettin' two to one agin yu."

The half-breed shrugged impatiently. "Kid's talk," he said. "C'mon, boys ; time to hit the hay ; we got a stiff job in the morning'."

Meanwhile, in the little cabin they were to share, Sudden and Sandy also referred to the incident ; the latter was full of admiration for his new friend's marksmanship.

"My Gawd, I never seen anythin' like it," he remarked. "I ain't a mite surprised they named yu `Sudden."

"My friends call me `Jim,' " came the meaning reminder. "Shore, whatever yu say goes with me-- Jim," was the ready reply. "Ropey didn't think o' that play--though he might be feelin' sore over yore bluffin' him when yu came in. Navajo put him up to it--he don't like yu--much."

"I got the edge on him there--I don't like him a-tall."

"See many folks on yore ride?" Sandy asked presently.

"Well, I wouldn't say the country was thickly-populated," was the smiling reply. "What's doin' to-morrow?"

"Like I told yu, brandin', damn it. They fetched in 'bout three score mavericks this afternoon an' we gotta put the 8 B iron on 'em."

"Who owns that brand?"

"Couldn't say. There ain't no 8 B ranch around here that I know of, but Rogue gets four dollars a head for all he can turn over."

Sudden was surprised ; this was legitimate enterprise, for in those days of free range, unbranded cattle were the property of the finder unless the real owner could prove a claim.

The explanation was to come in the morning, when the valley presented a scene of animation. A few hundred yards from the pool, a fire had been lighted, and to this each steer had to be dragged or driven, thrown and tied, while the hot iron was applied. This was no easy task, for the cattle were scattered and full of fight. Sudden found that he had been assigned the ticklish job of hog-tying the victims. As he had not yet joined the band, he might have declined to share the work, but the idea never occurred to him ; he was there, and it was the natural thing to help. He had tied the first brute before he noticed the branded letters, S E.

"Hey, this critter's got a label a'ready," he said to Ropey, who came up swinging a long iron with a curved, red-hot end.

That individual grinned maliciously. "Well, well, fancy that," he said. "Say, Navajo, the boys brought in one o' Sam Eden's cows yestiddy ; what we goin' to do about it?"

The half-breed slouched over. "S'pose we oughta take her back an' 'pologize, but I guess we won't," he replied, and grabbing the iron he added a few deft touches to the old brand, joining the ends of the S and the horizontal strokes of the E. "There, she's an honest-to-Gawd 8 B now, an' as cows can't talk, nobody'll know any different." He gave Sudden an ugly grin. "Mistakes will happen, an' I wouldn't be s'prised if there's a few more."

The tie-man knew he was being chaffed, but he was not foolish enough to show resentment. Instead, he returned the grin.

"Eden oughta make his brand bigger--he's got all the side o' the animal," he said.

They laughed at this, but he fancied he could detect dis appointment in their expressions. The arrival of another steer. hauled by the ropes of two perspiring, blasphemous riders. ended the incident. From then on the man from Crawling Creek was kept busy, and, as he now expected, four out of every five of the beasts he handled bore the S E brand. So it was plain rustling. Nevertheless, he did his work with a thoroughness which earned reluctant approval even from Navajo.

"That hombre knows his job," he admitted to Ropey. "Shore does," that worthy agreed. "Never seed anyone tie 'em so slick."

"Mebbe ; but I don't like him," Navajo said.

"I'm plumb astonished," was Ropey's unveracious retort.

Chapter VI

THE outlaw leader returned that same evening, and from his cheerful mood, it was evident that his errand had been successful. After supper, he called Sudden aside.

"Been helpin' the boys brand?" he asked casually.

"Been helpin" 'em blot brands," Sudden corrected.

Rogue's brows ridged in a little frown. "Yu didn't think this was a Methodis' community when yu come here, did yu?" he asked acidly, and then, "Shucks, what's a few cows anyway? I got a big thing on now, Jim, one that'll give yu a chance o' gettin' away for a time. Savvy?"

Sudden nodded, and the other went on exultantly, "Here's the lay-out: Eden is takin' a hefty herd--three thousand head--north, an' a fella I know is hopin' it won't get there." He smiled felinely. "In fact, he's hopin' so hard that he's willin' to pay pretty handsomely if it don't, an' buy--at a fair price--all the S E cows offered him."

"Failure to make the drive would bust Eden wide open, huh?"

"Yeah, it's his last hope, I reckon ; he's been buyin' land an' got in deep. But that don't concern me ; a fella has to take care of hisself. Now, he'll want riders an' I'm proposin' that yu an' Sandy get took on--can't use the other boys, their faces is known. Yu can see how it would help me to have a coupla men on the inside. We'll be on the heels o' the herd an' cankeep in touch with yu. Far as yo're concerned, it gives yu a trail outa present trouble an' a tidy wad into the bargain. What d'yu say?"

"I'll drop in at the S E in the morning'," Sudden told him. "Where d'yu aim to break the drive?"

"That'll depend on how things pan out, but not till they've got too far to come back an' gather another herd," the outlaw said. "Glad yo're comin' in, Jim ; yu can wise up Sandy." He hesitated a moment. "Hear yu had trouble with Ropey."

Sudden laughed. "I just had to let the fellas know that I'm growed up. I'd say it was Navajo's play."

"Like enough," Rogue agreed, and his face grew dark. "One day I'll have to argue with that hombre."

The cowboy came away from the interview with mixed feelings, certain only of one thing--he would join the S E, but whether as friend or foe he had not decided ; the deliberate part of his nature was in charge at the moment. He found Sandy loafing outside their habitation and prefaced his message from Rogue by relating his adventure of the previous afternoon.

"Well, if yu ain't the lucky one!" the young man ejaculated. "Here's me been ridin' round for weeks an' never had no chance to deliver a distressed damsel. Bet she's hatchet-faced, squint-eyed, an' bellers like a sick cow."

"yu musta seen the lady," Sudden smiled.

"I ain't--never knowed there was any female women in this neck o' the woods," was the reply. "Who is she?" For Sudden had not told all the story.

"Sam Eden's daughter."

"She was stringin' yu--he ain't got any."

"Adopted daughter, I oughta said--orphaned kid of an old friend," Sudden explained, adding inconsequently, "Eden offered me a job."

"coin to take it?"

"We are," replied the other, and went on to tell of the outlaw leader's designs, and the part they were to play. Sandy listened with wooden features.

"Sounds good," he commented. "I'd shore like to be in on that drive ; but Rogue's wrong in one thing--I ain't such a stranger around here." He thought awhile and then slapped his knee. "Got it!" he exclaimed.

"What, a mosquito?" Sudden asked.

"No, an idea--don't yu never have none?"

"yeah. Why, both my knees are sore right now."

The youth ignored the gentle raillery. "Where's that stuff yu used on yore hoss?" he inquired.

"On the shelf inside," Sudden replied. "Goin' to black yore lace an' play nigger?"

Sandy's retort was neither polite nor printable.

Sunrise found a grumbling cook giving them an early breakfast ; but his curiosity regarding Sandy's black hair, eyebrows, and moustache remained unsatisfied.

"Ask Rogue about it," the boy told him with a grin, knowing perfectly weil that he would do no such thing.

For the first few miles the pair rode in silence. Sudden was trying to convince himself that the affairs of the S E owner were no concern of his, and not succeeding very Well. His companion was also deep in thought, riding head down.

The morning air had an invigorating keenness which would presently change to a blistering heat. Around them, Nature was awaking ; birds whistled, rabbits scuttled across their path, and once they saw the long grey form of a big wolf slink into the brush at their approach. It was Sandy who made the first remark:

"Odd I ain't heard o' this gal at the S E."

"She's recently arrived from the East--educated there, I gathered," Sudden explained.

Sandy snorted. "I get yu," he said. "One o' them high-toned dames, with a forehead bulging out like a cliff, who thinks o pore ignorant cowboys is doormats to wipe their number eights n." Sudden chuckled silently. "Now I know yu've met her," he said.

"Yo're wrong, but I savvy the breed," the boy went on. "Thin-lipped, an' that sot in their ideas they'd argue with a charge o' giant-powder."

"She looked liable to get her own way most times," Sudden admitted. "She had the of man roped."

"There yu are," Sandy cried triumphantly. "An' let me tell yu, a mule is an easy-goin' critter alongside Sam Eden. Why, it's told of him that once, when he was gettin' the worst of an argument, he finished it by sayin', `Well, I wouldn't believeit if I knowed it was true.' What can yu do with a fella like that, huh?"

Sudden laughed, partly at the story, but more at the reflection that his friend was due to receive a severe shock when he met the girl he had condemned unseen. Sandy's next remark changed the subject.

"I wouldn't be so terrible distressed if Rogue fell down on this drive-bustin'," he mused. "I don't owe him nothin' an' I shore would like to see them northern cowtowns."

Sudden did not reply at once ; he was wondering if the words had any hidden significance.

"I've a hankerin' thataway my own self," lie confessed.

They reached the S E ranch-house to find it apparently deserted ; the morning meal was over and the men had gone to their work. A hail brought Eden himself to the porch. At the sight of Sudden he called a hearty greeting :

"Hello, young fella, I'm main pleased to see yu. Hope yu aim to stay this time."

"Shore do, Mister Eden, if yu'll have me," Sudden replied. He pointed to his companion. "This is Dick Sands--he's huntin' a job too."

The rancher studied the second of the visitors closely for a moment. "Any friend o' yores is welcome, Green, an' I can certainly use another man," he said, but the warmth had gone out of his voice.

Before another word could be said, Carol emerged from the house, her face lighting up when she recognized the rider who had come to her rescue. Sudden stole a look at his chum and had hard work to restrain his merriment. Sandy had snatched his hat off and was staring goggle-eyed at the girl who had, so far, hardly looked at him. Sudden mentioned his name again and Carol gave the young man a smile of welcome which completed his discomfiture.

"Well, boys, what's the word?" Eden asked.

"We'll go yu," Sandy blurted out eagerly.

"Good," the rancher replied. "Leave yore war-bags in the bunkhouse. There's plenty hosses in the corral--that mount o' yores, Green, is too good for hazin' longhorns out'n the brush." He pointed to a cloud of dust some miles away on the plain. "The herd is there."

He climbed briskly into his saddle, the girl followed, and they galloped away, Sandy watched till they vanished over a swell in the ground, and then turned to lind his companion doubled up over his saddle-horn. He looked at him suspiciously.

"Got a misery in yore stumick?" he asked.

"yeah, these hatchet-faced, squint-eyed dames alms give me a pain," Sudden chortled, ashake with mirth.

Sandy swore. "Damn funny, ain't it? Look here, yu misfit, ireathe a word o' that to her an' I'll trample the gut's out'n u.

"

"Get her to do it with them number eights," Sudden advised, and then his hand went up. "Awright, I'll be good. Come an' grab them hosses ; I'll bet there's some work a-waitin'."

They soon reached the spot the rancher had indicated. Already about a thousand head had been assembled, and, kept bunched by a couple of riders, were grazing contentedly on the short grama grass which covered the plain. The herd was a mixed one ; evidently everything in the shape of a cow was being rounded up, and the bellowing of the bulls mingled with the bleating of the calves as they staggered weakly after their mothers. At the moment Sudden and his partner approached, an addition of thirty animals arrived, convoyed by two riders who presented a striking contrast, one of them being tall and abnormally thin while the other was short and fat. As Sudden learned later, the pair were great friends, and quarrelled perpetually.

"Well, boys, yu shore have been busy," Eden greeted them. "Ain't all our'n," the tall man explained. "Met Pebbles an' the Infant, an' took over their gather."

"Here's a couple o' fresh helpers, Jed. yu better take Green, an' Dumpy can put Sandy wise."

As the four men rode away, Jed cast a quizzical glance at his late partner and remarked audibly, "Now I got me a real side-kick 'stead o' that dollop o' drippin' we'll git some cows."

The fat man rose to the bait instantly. "G'wan, yu graveyard relic," he retorted. "yu watch out, stranger ; he'll let yu do all the work ; that fella wouldn't breathe if he could git anybody to do it for him."

Jed replied with an impolite gesture, and wheeling his horse to the left, motioned Sudden to follow.

"We've pretty well cleaned up around * here--have to go further afield," he said.

A short ride brought them to where the plain slid off into a spread or country which looked as though it had been the scene of an earthquake. Out of this the long-horns, wild, fierce-eyed, had to be driven, and the task proved to be a trying one to both man and horse. Crashing into the underbrush the riders unearthed a couple of steers and drove them into the open. Then, in turn, each guarded the "catch" while the other searched for additions. Both jobs demanded alertness and patience, for the cattle made repeated efforts to break away. The approach of evening found them with a collection of near two score.

"Pardner, we done noble," Jed said. "Reckon when we git 'em to the main herd we can call it a day."

"Suits me," Sudden grinned, and smacked the nose of a straying steer with his rope. "I certainly hope yu got a good cook ; my belt's damn near slippin' off'n me."

"Peg-leg's the finest cook in Texas--he says so hisself," Jed laughed. "An' he shore can talk to mules in the language they understand."

In their search for cattle they had drifted some distance from the plain, and dark was creeping up by the time they reached the herd. The sight of a big fire and the near-by chuck-wagon brought a doleful expression on Jed's face.

"Gotta sleep on our saddles to-night, seemin'ly," he said.

"Yu'll be some lucky if yu sleep a-tall," a new voice put in.

Another rider had caught them up--a wispy little man, nearing fifty, from whose brown face, wrinkled like a walnut, small blue eyes peered at the pair amusedly.

"'Lo, Jeff," Jed greeted, and turning to his partner, added, "This is our foreman--a pretty ornery fella, as yu can see, Green."

The little man chuckled and shoved out a paw. "Heard o' yu from the 0I' Man," he said. "We can use yu." He waved towards the grazing cattle. "The bunch is gettin' big an' wants watchin', which is why we're campin' alongside. Also, Sam is on the rampage, I reckon we gotta start workin' to-morrow."

"Sufferin' cats!" wailed the cowboy. "C'mon, Green, let's join the other loafers an' load up before this slavedriver makes it to-day."

Having unsaddled and turned their mounts loose--the beasts were too tired to stray far--they joined the group squatting round the fire.

"Hey, Jed, how many yu fetch in?" Dumpy inquired.

"Coupla score, if it's any o' yore damned business," Jed said.

"An' mighty good goin'," commented another.

"Aw, Jed knows the easy places," the fat man gibed.

"Then I wish he'd picked on 'em," Sudden said ruefully. "I'll never see a pincushion again without feelin' sorry for it."

There was a general laugh at this, for all the men were scratched and torn, despite the stout leather "leggin's" they wore.

Sudden had a word with Sandy.

"We joined this outfit too soon," he said whimsically. "We'd oughta waited till they was ready to drive."

"I wish we hadn't joined a-tall," his friend replied. "No, that ain't so neither, but--hell, what's the use?"

With which cryptic remark he rolled his blanket round him and went to sleep. Sudden, too tired even to wonder about this attitude, followed his example. Slumber must be made the most of ; if anything disturbed the cattle, there would be no more for any of them that night.

Chapter VII

SOON after dawn the men were astir and crowding round the fire, for the early air was keen. Breakfast over, Jeff divided his forces ; half were to begin the branding while the others continued to build up the herd. Sudden and Sandy, as not knowing the range, were allotted to the second task, a decision which--to the former's surprise, met with his friend's satisfaction.

"We're shorely outa luck," he remarked tentatively.

"Suits me," Sandy replied gaily. "We'll show these hombres how to label long-horns." He straightened his neckerchief, slapped the dust from his clothes, and fingered his chin uneasily. "Say, Jim, yu got a razor?" He saw the dawning grin of comprehension on the other's face, and added hastily, "These whiskers o' mine'll come out the wrong colour, yu know."

"Mine's at the bunkhouse," Sudden said. "I saw the cook scrapin' his jaw a piece ago."

Peg-leg obliged with a razor and a cracked mirror. "Which if yo're goin' to this trouble on account o' Miss Carol, yu needn't," he advised. "She'll be too busy to look at yu."

"I ain't," Sandy stated, with a flash which contradicted the assertion. "Can't stand a scrubby chin, that's all."

The cook's grimace was one of disbelief--he had seen other new-comers suffering from the same affliction, but he said no more ; he was a man of few words but, as was once remarked, those few were frequently "damn near as strong as his caw-fee."

The branding promised to be a big job. Chutes were unknown in the south-west of that day, and each animal had to be dealt with separately. Sandy found he was to work with his friend. Sudden was waiting for him, a bundle of short tie-ropes (piggin strings) in his hand.