Sudden Plays a Hand

`Where we bound for, Jim?' Yorky wanted to know when they set off on the following morning.

Payin' a visit to Mister Bardoe,' Sudden said. `But we ain't intendin' to intrude, in fact, we're goin' to be real shy. What's yore opinion o' Nick?'

The boy thought for a moment. `A mighty good friend and a damn bad enemy,' he replied. `If th' other man fights dirty, he'll do th' same, or wuss.'

Sudden nodded. `That's how I figure him.' He glanced slyly at his companion. `I dunno how things'll break, but backin' his play won't exactly be a pleasure trip.'

`If yo're worryin' about me, forget it,' Yorky said. `Think I wanta ride around gazin' at scenery? I like action.'

They were headed west, through a jumbled mess of country--open plain, forested slopes, stony, dry ravines, all of which led to higher ground. In front, but miles distant, rose a wide, flat-topped bluff.

`That'll be Table Mesa,' Sudden remarked. `Somewhere around there is Mister Bardoe's hang-out. If we run into him, keep yore hat pulled down; he's had a look at yu.'

`Not much o' one, 'less he's got eyes in th' back of his head,' the boy laughed. `Allasame, there's times I like to be forgotnen.'

As they drew nearer to the Mesa the surface of the country became less irregular; stretches of good grazing studded with mottes of scrub-oak, thorn, and cactus were frequent, and in the distance, moving spots which could only be cattle. Not wishing to be seen, the intruders were forced to skirt the edges of these open spaces, where the brush afforded cover. Presently, in a secluded grassy hollow, they came upon a dozen or more steers. The animals appeared no be disturbed, restless, and now and again one would turn no lick its haunch. There was a lingering odour of burnt hair, and on one side of the hollow a tiny curl of blue smoke from the remains of a fire.

`Fresh brands,' Sudden remarked. `If they're 8 B it's none of our business.'

They edged their horses slowly forward until the tell-tale marks could be read. `Double X an' the bottom halves is new--put on within the hour,' the puncher commented. `Up to then they were owned by the Double V. This is gettin' interestin'.'

They went on, discovering more Double X cattle, these with the alterations partly healed, and then lighted on a bunch bearing the brand 8 B.

`That's his own, same as on th' hoss he rode into th' valley,' Yorky said.

`Take another squint, son,' the elder man advised. "Bout a coupla weeks back, these were S P steers. See where the S has been turned into the figure, an' a lower loop added to the P?'

'Yo're right, Jim,' Yorky agreed. `I don't know it all yet.'

`An' that's allus worth findin' out,' Sudden smiled. `Wonder why he's keepin' off Cullin?'

`Mebbe he ain't; we just don't happen to 'a' found 'em'

They continued the search, but a broad expanse of open range compelled them to stay in the shelter of the undergrowth, and they found no more cattle. On the edge of a small clearing they halted; in it stood a largish log building, one-storied, and of uncared-for appearance. This, they guessed, must be the 8 B ranch-house. Screened by the trees, they waited, and presently a rider, coming from the east, loped across the plain and pulled up. They saw him pass, heard his hail, `Hello, the house,' and a gruff greeting.

`Gilman, of the S P, by thunder!' Sudden muttered, and slid from his saddle. `I'm goin' to take a chance; stay put--yo're my ace in the hole.'

There was a window facing them, and it was partly open. Stooping and moving swiftly, Sudden reached and crouched beneath it. Two men were within, evidently the host and his visitor, for there was a clink of bottle against glass.

`Here's how, Jack,' the gruff voice said. `An' what brought you this way?'

`Well, I hears yo're dead, an' then that you ain't,' Gilman replied. `Figured I'd better come over an' find out my chances o' collectin' for that hundred head I let you lift.'

`You'll have to wait till I've sold 'em,' came the reply. `I was comin' to settle when I run into that blasted nester.' He gave his own version of the encounter, ending, `He took my money, hoss, an'--all.'

'You came back to this yer world o' sin a day too soon; by what I hear,' the other chuckled.

Bardoe's burst of profanity betrayed his soreness. `Made me a laughin'-stock,' he added. 'Camort's a blunderin' idjut. 'Bout time we had a sheriff whose head ain't full of sawdust. Drait has gotta go.'

The foreman's voice sounded indifferent. `Not ownin' the S P, I dunno as I care much.'

`Why shouldn't you own it? If you work things right, by the time they find Pavitt's kid you'll have the cash to buy, an' the ranch that poor, he'll be glad to sell.'

`Shore is an idea.'

'Skittles! Don't pretend I'm tellin' you anythin'. Count me on yore side, an' I reckon that goes for Cullin an' Vasco, none of us wants a stranger buttin' in here.'

`I'm obliged,' Gilman replied. `Well, I'll be taggin' along.'

The eavesdropper at the window took the hint and regained cover without delay. He grinned when he saw that Yorky had his rifle out. They watched the visitor depart, and then followed suit, taking a more southerly line.

`If we can find the Double V ranch-house we'll mebbe put a kink in Mister Bardoe's rope,' Sudden explained.

They covered some half-dozen miles and then the scattered cattle they encountered advised them that they were on the right range. Suddenly a horseman emerged from a clump of brush. He had a rifle across his knees, and his face, though hard and suspicious, was not aggressive. Apparently their interest in the grazing cows had aroused his curiosity.

`You fellas lookin' for anythin'?' he asked mildly.

`Why, we're kind o' searchin' for the Double V ranch-house,' Sudden replied.

`Three mile further on. If yo're wantin' Vasco, you've found him. What's yore trouble?'

`It ain't our'n, but I'll explain,' the puncher said. Getting down, he trod a bit of sand level, and with his finger drew on it the Double X brand. `Who owns that iron about here?'

`Nobody as I knows of. Why?'

`We've seen cows wearin' it,' Sudden told him. `The odd thing was that the upper half o' the brand was old, an' the lower added today.' He swept a toe over the latter, and stepped back. `Easy done' ain' it?'

The rancher swore. `Where'd you see them cattle?'

"Bout six mile o' here, bearin' north; they was mixed with some 8 B steers.'

Vasco swore again. `I'll git some o' the boys an' we'll look into this straightaway.'

Sudden hoisted himself into his saddle. 'Yo're playin' the wrong card,' he suggested. `He'll plead ignorance; you know, we could have done the blottin, for reasons of our own. No, sir, yore game is to keep cases an' catch him red-handed.'

The rancher considered this for a moment; something he had heard recurred to him; he studied the pair more closely, and suspicion grew in his eyes. `You ridin' for Drait?' he asked, and when Sudden nodded, went on. `Mebbe yo're right--I'd better hold off an' collect evidence my own self.'

`Shore,' the puncher smiled. `An' don't forget I've been tellin' yo to do that very thing. Yore friend in the scrub is gettin' impatient. What's the matter with him? Modest--or somethin'?'

The red crept up under the tan on Vasco's face; he had been ounplayed. `It's my foreman--he ain't usually careless,' he said. `Hi, Pawley!'

A tall, lean rider came out of the bushes, a somewhat sheepish expression on his craggy countenance; no man likes being caught in an undignified position. Sudden noted the long nose, high cheek-bones, and steady eyes; they told him something.

`Meet two o' the Shadow Valley boys,' Vasco said, and looked a question. Sudden supplied their names, and the foreman shook hands.

`You got a keen eye, Mister,' he complimented.

`Mostly guess-work,' Sudden replied. `I figured yore boss wouldn't tackle two armed strangers 'less he had help handy.'

`Huh! You don't know him,' Pawley grunted. `Takes too many damn chances.' Then he grinned. `We Texans do git around, don't we?'

Sudden returned the grin. `Brother, yu said it; we follow the longhorns.'

`When you've finished slammin' me an' swappin' childhood memories, Pawley, you might as well hear the news,' Vasco chimed in.

The foreman's face lengthened as he listened. `Well, we're losin' 'em--a steady leak,' he admitted. `I'd say Green has the right notion--we gotta be shore. I've allus told you, Vic, that iron o' yores is a rank temptation--Double M, Two Diamond; oh, hell it's as easy as turnin' over.'

`I put it on the first cow I ever owned,' the rancher said stubbornly.

`An' it'll go on the last if you ain't careful,' was the sardonic retort.

`Cheerful cuss, ain't he?' Vasco smiled. `Well, gents, I'm shorely obliged, an' I'll be pleased to see you any time.'

On their way home Yorky was silent for a while, and then, `Ain't you sort o' helpin' th' enemy, Jim?'

`I guess not. Look it over. If Bardoe is found to be robbin' other ranches, that's his finish. If it's owin' to us, Vasco, any- way, would be grateful; he's a straight man, if I'm any judge. Bet yu a dollar Nick'll be pleased.'

`Tiny sez betting is sinful 'less yo're certain o' winnin',' Yorky fenced. `Me, I'm aimin' to be good--this time.'

This decision was amply justified when they reported the day's happenings; Nick was patently delighted. `You done noble,' he said. Puttin' the Double V wise was one smart move, Jim, an' is goin' to help me a lot. I ain't met Vasco, but it's possible he's been misled.'

`By the way, Nick, not a whisper o' this to anyone--even Quilt,' Sudden warned. `If Bardoe gets wind of it, we're sunk.' `As you say, Jim, but I'd trust Quilt with all I got.'

`Mebbe, but a careless word could be enough for one who's waitin' to hear it. Better be safe than sorry.'

Drait nodded. `So Gilman is after the S P, an' lettin' Bull steal stock, at a price; I sorta suspicioned that. You didn't get to Cullin?'

`No, I reckoned we'd had all the luck due to us for one day.'

`He's a bad egg,' Drait went on. `The king-pin of what's wrong around here, I figure, but he's mighty careful not to show his hand.'

Chapter VI

IN an early morning drive, the cattle purchased from the S P had been brought to Shadow Valley, and by the end of the day, bearing the brand of the new owner, were turned loose; they could not get out, for the exit at the upper end had been blocked by a solid wall of stone. Drait smacked the last bawling victim of the iron on the rump as it lumbered past, and grinned at his perspiring crew.

`Good goin', boys,' he complimented. `Thanks.' And because he had himself worked as hard as any this brief approval satisfied them. Pie tonight, if them dried apple-rings came with the other stuff I ordered.'

`They shore did,' Long told him. `An' I hope Lindy had made a-plenty.'

`You should worry,' his brother said. `She allus counts you as three, anyways.'

Yelling like madmen they raced for the bunkhouse and first use of the towel. Sudden and the nester followed more soberly. `Glad that's done,' the former remarked. `But I ain't altogether easy.'

`I'm suspectin' a snag my own self,' Nick admitted.

At the bunkhouse door they parted; the uproar within told that the food was not yet on the table. At the house, Drait, having made himself presentable, went into the parlour, where his wife was awaiting him. Her smile was a surprise.

`A tiring day, but I can see, a satisfactory one,' she said.

`I'll have to be careful,' he replied. `A face that tells tales is a considerable drawback in these parts. Brandin' is hard work, but when it's yore own beasts it lightens the job. I've got a hundred head carryin' my iron, an' that's a good foundation for a herd' He lifted his shoulders.

`You think the ranchers may interfere?'

`Interfere is good.' His grin revealed the strong white teeth and she noticed--not for the first time--the difference his infrequent smile made. `Oh, I guess they'll try again. Does that scare you?'

She shook her head. `I'm gettin' fond of this place,' she said, and there was warmth in voice and look. `That's fine; any time you feel different, just mention it.'

She was disappointed. Again the thought came that he had divined her desire to enslave and punish him. So far, his response had been entirely negative. It annoyed, but did not decrease her determination.

`What for sort of a burg is Rideout?' Sudden enquired of Drait early on the next day.

`Bigger edition o' Midway, with a branch railroad throwed in. Wanta pay her a visit?'

`If yu ain't anythin' special for me an' Yorky to do ...'

`Help yoreself, Jim; we're all likely to be lazy for a day or so now the brandin's done.'

The news of the projected trip brought a solemn warning from Smoky: `It's the gosh-dangest town in the State,' he said. `Cowboys is the natural prey o' the varmints what live there. First they take yore guns, an' then the rest.'

`When they've got my guns they'll be needin' the rest.' Sudden laughed. `An' Yorky ain't so Sunday-school as he might appear.' He looked round. `C'mon, son. Two breakfasts is aplenty; we ain't goin' to a famine-struck land.'

The first few miles were traversed in a silence which Yorky forbore to break.

`I've been holdin' out on yu,' the puncher said at length. `It ain't accident that we're in this part o' the country. Fact is, Igot somethin' to do, an' I oughta told yu itcouldn't be just holiday.'

The boy's eyes glistened. `But, Jim, that's th' best news yet,' he cried. `If you'll let me do somethin'.'

`Shucks, why d'yu s'pose I fetched yu?'

`Is Nick mixed up in it?'

`I dunno--yet. Meetin' him was just plain luck--I was needin' an excuse for stayin' in the district. Yu can add too that I like him, an' reckon he's bein' treated mighty mean.'

Yorky nodded sagely. `What we gotta do?'

`Discover the rightful owner o' the S P first off,' Sudden said. `That'll put Mister Gilman's li'l scheme in the discard, an' some other noses outa joint too, I wouldn't wonder.'

`In fact, we're goin' to make ourselves real unpop'lar, huh?' Yorky grinned. `Well, I don't give a damn.'

Rideout proved to be what they had been led to expect, a bigger and busier Midway, but equally sordid and unpleasing to the eye. They found an eating-house and devoured a meal which evoked a philosophic reflection from Yorky: `To 'preciate good cookin' you gotta get away from it.' As he paid the bill, Sudden asked a question.

`Seale, the lawyer? You'll see his shingle down to the deepo. Will you find him in? I dunno, but I'm damn shore you won't find him out--nobody's done that yet. He's cute, is the "Weasel."'

They left the fellow still chuckling over his witticism, and went in search of its subject. The lawyer's office appeared to consist of one room over an empty shop, and was reached by a stairway at the side. Sudden rapped, and a squeaky voice invited them to enter. The Westerner has a happy knack in the matter of nick-names, and one glance at the receding forehead, long nose, pinched-in mouth, and small, suspicious eyes told the visitors that the man behind the desk in the centre of the room was he they had come to see. Soiled linen, and a shiny black coat which hung sack-fashion on the narrow shoulders only added to the rodent-like impression. The office itself was equally shabby: a rag of carpet, a table upon which were law-books, a filing cabinet, an old-style safe, and two hard chairs comprised the rest of the furniture.

`Temporary premises, gentlemen, just temporary premises,' the lawyer excused, and it was evident that the words and the gesture accompanying them had become automatic. `Find seats and let me know what I can do for you.'

Sudden leaned forward; he had taken his man's measure. `To begin,' he said, `I want yu to savvy I ain't here to waste yore time, which, to a legal gent, is the same as money.'

Seale's beady eyes lighted up a little. `It is true my profession requires that certain charges be made,' he replied. `Strictly in accordance with the service I am able to render, Mister--'

`My name wouldn't mean a thing to yu,' Sudden said. `I'm from down South, near the Border, on a kind o' vacation. Yes, sir, I was shorely tired o' lookin' at cows' hind-ends. When Eli Dean--fella I was ridin' for--heard I was headin' for these parts, he sez would I do him a service? Well, I agreed, for Eli is one white man, an' here I am, yu see.'

`Quite, but you haven't told me why.'

Sudden slapped his leg. `If I ain't the chucklehead. It's this-away: Eli wanted me to search out an old friend, man he'd punched cantle with from hell to anywhere an' back again in the days when they was both a deal younger. The name was Pavitt --Sam Pavitt, an' I hear he's been under the turf for 'bout a year.'

`That is true, I am sorry to say.'

`We all gotta go, an' I reckon Eli was expectin' that--Pavitt bein' older'n him, an' he ain't no yearlin'--for he said there was a daughter he'd welcome news of; it was when I asked 'bout her, I got sent to yu.'

`Naturally, since the estate is in my hands,' the lawyer said importantly. `As regards the daughter, I am afraid I cannot help you. She ran away, more than twenty years ago, to marry a man her father disapproved of, and I am still trying to discover her whereabouts; she owns the S P ranch now. You see, I've no information; neither the name of the husband, nor that of the place where they lived. The old man never spoke of her.'

`No letters?'

`One only, with the address missing, saying that her husband had died, and mentioning a child, "Frankie". It was signed, "Mary". I have advertised, and have a man out now, making enquiries, all to no purpose. It is very discouraging and expensive. The property is a good one, but is losing value, and I've written to the Governor of the State suggesting he authorise me to sell it and hold the proceeds on trust for the missing heir.'

"Pears to be a sound idea,' Sudden said.

`I think so,' Seale said complacently. `I've had a generous offer and am only waiting for permission to close the deal. I fear that is all I can tell you, and as I have a conference ...'

This was dismissal, but Yorky had been whispering. `My friend suggests yu might let us look at that letter yu spoke of,' Sudden said. `We fellas are used to followin' trails, an' might spot a pointer.'

`Why, certainly,' the lawyer agreed. After all, he must make some sort of a show for the `easy money' these greenhorns would pay him. Taking out a bunch of keys, he opened the safe,selected a paper from several others, and, with satirical smile, watched them study it.

`Nothin' there,' Sudden declared, as he handed it back. `It was just a chance; I wouldn't like Eli to think I'd overlooked a bet.' He laid a bill on the desk, and stood up. 'Talkin' allus makes me dry; mebbe yu'll join us?'

This was an invitation Seale never refused, especially from one who had paid handsomely for nothing. He locked the safe, then the door, and preceded them down the stairway. Yorky followed, and they were nearly at the oottom when the boy slipped, clutched at the lawyer to save himself, and they finished in a heap on nhe floor. No damage resulted, and the culprit was profuse in his apologies.

`These damned high heels ain't made for steps,' he lamented, and when they reached the street, `Jim, I ain't much on liquor, an' I want smokin' an' feed for my gun. You goin' across th' road? Right, I'll be along.'

Sudden nodded, and followed the lawyer into the saloon. `A good kid, but kind o' young,' he excused.

`Plenty of us would like to suffer from his complaint,' the man of law smirked, and raised his glass. `Here's how, and I'm sorry your errand has ended in failure.'

The puncher shrugged. `Fella can't allus score, specially with long shots,' he said. `I expect yu've lost cases yoreself.'

`A few--long shots,' Seale admitted. `Staying in town?'

`I guess we'll mosey along,' Sudden replied, as he called for a second round. `That boy should show up soon.'

`He'll be all right--the place is quiet at this time of the day. Why, there he is, at the door.'

Yorky was outside, with the horses, and having parted from the lawyer, they mounted and rode out of the town. Sudden asked no questions until they were clear, and then: `What's the hurry, son?' For Yorky was casting an anxious eye to the rear from time to time.

`That fella was lyin', Jim.'

`Yo're tellin' me. Why did yu wanta see that fool letter?'

`I didn't, but I wanted to know where he kept his keys,' was the surprising answer.

Sudden looked at him severely. `Yu been drinkin'?'

`No--thinkin',' Yorky replied. `You see, Jim, I had a hunch there was somethin' in th' safe he wouldn't show us, an' I figured if I could get at th' right pocket....'

He paused, furtively scanning his companion's face, but it told him nothing. Sudden was remembering that slip on the stairs, the long, slim fingers of this waif from the underworld of a big city--fingers which could manipulate cards with the dexterity of a magician. But he was not one to probe into the murky past of a friend; there had been episodes in his own....

`I was a pretty good "dip" but I give it up after I run into Clancy,' the boy went on, rather shamedly. `I could 'a' cleaned him, but honest, Jim, I on'y borried th' keys.' He was obviously scared that the man he most admired in all the world would not approve.

Sudden's slow smile was back again. `Shucks, I ain't blamin' yu. Anythin' goes, when yo're fightin' a rogue. What did yu find?'

`A letter from a woman livin' at Deepridge, offerin' information 'bout Mary Pavitt; 'peared to be in answer to an advertisement. In was signed "Sarah Wilson".'

`Thought he warn't exactly emptyin' his bag,' was Sudden's comment. `Yu left the letter?'

`Figured it was wiser. But here's one I fetched away.'

The document was brief and to the point. Sudden whistled softly as he read it:

`Dear Seale,

Confirming our conversation this morning, I am prepared to pay five thousand dollars for the S P ranch, and to take the stock at eight dollars per head. If you can arrange this your fee will be one thousand, cash. This is my final offer.

Gregory Cullin.'

The puncher folded the letter and stowed it away. `Great work, son,' he complimented. `I'd give somethin' to see Seale's face when he discovers his keys is missin'. What you do with 'em?'

`Left 'em on th' stairs where we tumbled; he may think they just dropped out'n his pocket.'

`Mebbe, if he don't search his safe too careful. Anyway, the sooner we get this in a good hiding-place, the better. I've a notion it'll come in mighty useful, but for the present we'll keep it under our hats; it's sound policy sometimes to let the other fella move first.'

`I saw somebody we know in Rideout, an' he didn't wanta be seen,' Yorky said. `Beau Lamond.'

The devil yu did?' `Yeah, just after I left Seale's place; he was comin' towards it an' a'most jumped into a store when he catched sight o' me.' `Didn't strike me as sufferin' from modesty,' Sudden said. `If he don't mention it, we won't neither.'

Chapter VII

THE Big C ranch was the most important of those in the neighbourhood of Midway. This was due, not to its size, but to the forceful personality of its owner. Gregory Cullin, not yet forty, and unmarried, possessed a profound contempt for humanity, and an equally deep belief that everything comes to he who takes. His tall, compactly-built, powerful frame, frowning brows and thick, pouting lips gave him an aggressive appearance. He was subject to violent fits of rage, but few suspected he used them as a weapon to gain an end, and that beneath the wildest was a cold calculating brain, functioning as usual.

The ranch-house resembled the man, roughly but strongly fashioned. It was not large, but roomy inside, and the plain furniture was comfortable, but only that. It was said that Cullin, asked why he did not indulge in a more luxurious home, replied : `This ain't a home, on'y the workshop in which to make my pile.'

On the evening of the day after Sudden's visit to Rideout, a meeting took place at the Big C. Gilman, Bardoe, and the sheriff had arrived, and they awaited one other. Despite the blazing fire, whisky and cigars on the table, the guests did not seem to be at ease, and Cullin's face had an expression little like that of a genial host.

`Where in hell's Vic?' he asked petulantly.

This being the third time he had put the question, no one had any answer to offer. A moment later came the tramp of a horse outside, a heavy step in the passage, and the owner of the Double V entered, flung his hat and quirt into one chair, and seated himself in another.

`Howdy, fellas,' he greeted, poured himself a drink, and reached for a smoke.

`What's been keepin' you?' Cullin demanded.

`Business--my business,' Vasco replied curtly. `Why are we meetin'?'

`Somethin' has to be done about that fella Drait.'

`Is he doin' any harm?'

`He's a nester, an' therefore a cattle-thief,' Bardoe put in.

`You say so,' Vasco retorted. `But all cattle-thieves ain't nesters.'

Bardoe scowled but was silent, and Cullin's impatient voice dismissed the argument : `What he is or does don't matter, he's been told to go, an' has gotta go. Any suggestions Vic?'

`Yeah, leave him alone. He's bought the land an' is entitled to live on it, so long as he don't interfere. How much o' yore range do you own, Greg?'

The Big C man flushed at this home-thrust, for, as Vasco well knew, he had no title even to the ground his buildings occupied. `What's that gotta do with it, an' is it any o' yore affair what I own?' he snarled. `God damn yore impudence, I've a mind--'

Vasco's eyes narrowed. `Then use it, an' keep yore temper,' he said. `These fits o' yores may impress the scum on yore pay-roll, but I ain't ridin' for you an' you can't ride me. As for drivin' Drait out, hangin' a crippled cowboy ain't the way.'

`That was a mistake,' Cullin said, aware that he had gone too far. `The men exceeded their instructions.'

Vasco's laugh was contemptuous. `Don't try to tell me you weren't there, because I know different. You an' the same brave fellas who shot down the Rawlin kid. You ain't listenin', o' course, Camort.'

`I ain't believin' it,' the sheriff said doggedly.

`I take it you ain't helpin' us in this,' Bardoe remarked.

`You take it correct,' was the quiet reply. `Prove to me that Drait is stealing my cows an' mebbe I'll take another view.'

`He has a hundred head, calves an' yearlin's, in the Valley. Any o' you know where he got 'em?' Cullin asked, and getting no reply, went on, `There's a gal, too; know anythin' about that?' Bardoe looked black and Gilman laughed meaningly, but no one answered. `Hell,' Cullin continued, `Do I have to gather news as well as think for you all?'

`Don't trouble on my account,' Vasco said bluntly. `For the rest, I'm with you in any move which doesn't break the Law.'

`We got the Law--such as it is--on our side,' Gilman pointed out, with a jeering grin at the sheriff.

`Which is one damned good thing for some o' you,' that worthy summoned up courage to say.

The Big C man's brows came together. `Camort,' he said, and there was the rasp of a file in his tone. `who do you think would be the best man to fill yore place?'

Camort collapsed like a punctured bladder. `Why, Mister Cullin, I ain't done nothin'.' he stammered.

`You said it,' the rancher snapped. `An' a man who does nothin' is no use to us; we want results.'

`I had it all fixed,' the sheriff protested, with a malevolent glare at Bardoe.

`You made a sad error,' Vasco laughed. `When you wanta hang a man for murder it's usual to have a corpse; you should 'a' killed Bull first, an' made yore case good.'

Cullin, satisfied with the crushing of Camorn, applied himselfto the more important rebel. `Quit foolin', Vic,' he said testily. `This ain't a laughin' matter.'

`I think it is, an' Midway agrees,' Vasco retorted, as he got up. `Take my advice--go slow with Drait; he's an awkward mouthful an' has useful help. So long.'

Now what's he mean by that?' Bardoe questioned, when the Double V rancher had gone.

`I dunno, but Vic droppin' out thisaway makes a difference,' Cullin admitted. `He's right in one thing--we'll have to take our time an' plan careful.'

`It shouldn't be difficult to plant some Double V cows in Shadow Valley,' Bardoe suggested.

`Too obvious,' Cullin decided bluntly.

It was his way, and Bardoe did not take offence. He despised them all, but a seeming comradeship made it less likely they would suspect him when stock was missing, and he would have made friends with the Devil himself if it would put anything in his pocket.

So, for the time being, Shadow Valley suffered no molestation from without. Sudden and Yorky had journeyed forth again, ostensibly to see some more of the country, but actually to follow up the clue obtained in Rideout. The rest of the outfit, having little to do save guard the gate, smoked, lazed, and played one-cent poker.

The nester and his wife took daily rides together, and the girl used them for her purpose, only to realise that she was making no impression on her companion; considerate, mildly-humorous, his attitude was that of a good-natured brother, and it made her furious. She would have preferred his former harsh, dominating manner. Once or twice she deliberately endeavoured to anger him, out she might have been trying to inflame an iceberg.

In desperation, she resolved on a final test--to make him jealous; if this failed, she had lost, for it would mean that his indifference was real. She began to look a little more kindly upon Lamond when they chanced to meet, and it was not long before the cowboy made an excuse to call at the house--when she was on the veranda--and asked for Drait.

`I am waiting for him now,' she replied.

His grin was impudent. `That's all wrong,' he said. `The fella oughta do the waitin'.'

`Perhaps that doesn't apply in this wild land,' she smiled. `Why not--we ain't savages, but I hope he don't hurry. Ain't seen much o' you lately.'

Before she could reply, Nick appeared. `Lookin' for me, Beau?' he asked.

`Like to visit town, if I ain't needed here,' Lamond explained. `Quilt is foreman,' the nester reminded. `If he doesn't want you, it's all right winh me.'

The cowboy nodded and rode away. `Wasn't that a little severe?' Mary questioned.

`He knew damn well he was wrong,' Nick returned. `When I make a fella foreman I mean him to be just that.' She understood; he was only annoyed because the man was offering a slight to his immediate boss.

`I don't suppose he meant any disrespect to Quilt.'

`I know the breed; puttin' one over on the foreman is just pie to them, but none o' the others would 'a' tried it.'

`You don't like him, do you?'

`No,' he replied, with disconcerting candour, and went out.

He left early on the following morning, and she rode alone up the valley. Ere she had gone far, however, Lamond caught her up, and swept off his hat in a theatrical bow. She ignored his greeting.

`Seein' the Guardian Angel ain't ridin' herd on you today, I guessed I might be welcome,' he explained, with an engaging smile.

`Haven't you any work to do?' she asked.

`Shore, Quilt sent me to look over our han'ful o' beasts, so we're goin' the same way. You can help me round 'em up.'

She gave in, and as he could be quite entertaining when he chose, she was soon glad of his company. The excitement of routing the cattle out of the brush brought a sparkle to her eyes, colour to her cheeks, and the cowboy forgot his caution.

`My, if you were married, you'd make a bonny widow,' he said, with a look she could not innerpret. Instantly her face froze, and she turned her pony. `I must get back to the house; Lindy will be waiting for me.'

`Hey, what's yore hurry?' he cried, but she had gone, and he swore at himself for a clumsy fool. `She ain't a biscuit-shooter, but what made her take it thataway? I wonder if ...'

The girl returned home, angry with herself and the cowboy. She had no particular liking for the man, and had merely designed to use him as a weapon, but his remark had sent a shiver down her spine. Did he suspect anything? She told herself that was impossible, but nevertheless, she was frightened; playing with fire in a lawless land was a dangerous game.

That same evening, Drait--on his way to the bunkhouse--observed a tall, furtive figure slip out and disappear in the direction of the upper end of the valley. Wondering what wastaking Lamond there at such a time, he followed, the darkness making it easy to do so undetected. Like two shadows they moved soundlessly over the turf until they reached the newly-erected barrier, where the leader uttered a low owl-hoot. Drait effaced himself behind a handy bush. The call was answered by another, and then Lamond said :

`That you, Greg?'

`Shore,' was the reply. `Any news for me?'

`Yeah, the cattle came from the S P.'

`How d'you know?'

`Overheard two o' the boys talkin'. Also, one yearlin' had the S P brand; we're still eatin' it, an' the hide was burned.' `Rustled, huh?'

`What d'you guess? Unbranded stock, smuggled in here at dawn,' Beau returned ironically.

The Big C man swore. `So that's his game, huh? Goin' to bleed us one at a time, takin' stuff that can't be traced. In's a good plan, Mister Drait, so long as you keep it dark. Anythin' else?'

`Well, I dunno as it'll interest you, but them new fellas, Green an' Yorky, paid a visit to Rideout an' went to see the Weasel.' `The hell they did. What about?'

`Yore guess is as good as mine,' the cowboy replied. `No, Cullin, the bag is empty--like my pocket.'

`Which is allus empty,' the rancher grumbled. `Here's a fifty for you.'

`It'll be as welcome as a pretty woman, which reminds me, Drait has certainly picked a Lulu; you oughta see her.'

Women--pretty or otherwise--don't attract me,' Cullin said. `So long.'

The nester waited unnil the cowboy was well on his way, and then returned to the ranch-house. So Green's instinct had served him truly--Lamond was a spy, and had come to him for that purpose. He glared grimly into the velvet blackness of the night; in the morning he would deal with the matter.

He rose early, breakfasted, and went to the bunkhouse; Beau was not there. Re-entering the house, he became aware of a wheedling voice from the parlour:

`Aw, honey, why don't you come away with me? I can make plenty coin, an' we'll go places, an' see life. I'll treat you right. Drait's finished here....'

Lamond had his back to the door, and was facing the girl across the table. Her widened eyes warned him, and he turned to find the man of whom he was speaking. For a moment both were silent, then the nester said quietly :

`Did you wanta see me, Beau?'

The cowboy's expression showed relief--he had not been overheard. `Why, yeah, I'd like to go into town.'

`To spend that fifty-dollar bill?'

The man's eyes narrowed, but he said jauntily, `I don't get you; fifties an' me has bin strangers quite a while.'

`When I took you on, yore tale was that Cullin had acted mean,' Drait said slowly. `It was all a lie, part of a plot to betray me. Don't trouble to deny it; I heard every word you told Cullin, an' watched you receive the price of yore treachery, you dirty Judas.'

Lamond tried to brazen it out. `Anythin' goes agin a cow-thief,' he sneered. `Cullin will smash you.' Drait was pondering. `If I told the boys there'd be another grave in the Valley. I don't wanta pollute it with muck, but you deserve to die.'

Mary, who had wanched the scene as though petrified, now found her tongue : `No, not that,' she cried. `Please let him go.'

Drait's hard, inscrutable gaze snruck her like a blow. `You wish it?' he asked, and when she nodded dumbly, turned to the traitor. `Clear out, with yore belongin's,' he grated. `An' if this woman is one of 'em, take her.'

The implied insult roused the girl's spirit. `This woman is no man's belonging,' she flamed.

Her words wiped the dawning grin from Lamond's lips. Matters had gone well for him, but his malicious desire to hurt would not allow him to leave well alone.

`Aw, honey, after the good times we've had,' he protested. `Take him up on that

He got no further; the nester took one stride, his fist shot out, and with all the urge of the body-movement behind it, caught the traducer full on the jaw. The terrific force and precision of the blow sent the cowboy nottering back on his heels to slump with a crash to nhe floor. For a long moment he lay there, dazed, and then looked up into merciless eyes and the muzzle of a six-shooter.

`Take that back, or by God

The speaker's face was instinct with the desire to kill, his finger nudging the trigger. Lamond did not hesitate. `I was lyin',' he said sullenly.

Drait pointed to the door. `I'm givin' you fifteen minutes,' he said harshly, and looked at the girl. `It's for you to choose.'

She drew herself up. `In a choice of evils I prefer the brute to the liar,' she replied, and with a scathing glance, went out. `Settles that,' the nester said. `Yore time's tickin' away.'

The cowboy climbed to his feet, and as he staggered out ofthe house got a final warning : `Find another stampin'-ground; I don't let a man off twice.'

Dry-eyed, Mary sat in her bedroom, torn by emotions among which hatred of the opposite sex easily predominated. She was further from her purpose than ever; any regard her husband might have had for her must now have vanished, leaving contempt in its place. But if defeat was bitter, it did not bring despair. Through clenched teeth, she muttered, `You're only adding to the bill, Nicholas Drait.'

The afnernoon brought another surprise. Quilt was talking with Shorty at the entrance to the valley when a hail from ounside announced the advent of a visitor. The foreman mounted the fire-step; Cullin and three of his men were awaiting admittance.

`What's the meanin' o' this?' the cattlemen demanded, pointing to the obstruction.

`Speaks for itself, I'd say,' was the answer. `But its main purpose is to keep out coyotes--'specially the two-legged variety what cover nheir faces an' come a-ridin'.'

`Don't be insolent, my man,' Cullin frowned.

`I ain't yore man, an' glad of it,' the foreman retorted `What you wantin'?'

`To see Drait.'

`Well, you can come in, Cullin--alone.'

The rancher's face reddened. `It's all or none,' he snapped. `None it is,' was the indifferent reply.

The Big C man swore impatiennly and turned to his followers. `Wait for me,' he said, and the gate having opened rode through.

`Nick's up at the house,' the foreman said. `You know the way--I reckon.'

The jeer in the last two words deepened the cattleman's scowl, but he did not reply.

A young woman, seated in a rocking-chair on the veranda, looked up from the hook she was reading as he drew rein. She saw a man staring at her, apparently dumb with amazement. And so it was. Cullin knew she must be the girl he had heard about, but her unexpected charm made it hard to believe. She was a revelation, and for a moment or two he could but gaze avidly. Only when he saw a smile, trembling on her lips, and realised that he was acting foolishly, did he snatch off his hat, and find words.

`I take it yo're Mister Drait's--friend, ma'am,' he said. `I wanted to see him.'

`He is at the bunkhouse,' she replied. `Won't you sit down and wait?'

Eagerly enough, the caller accepted the invitation, taking the chair to which she poinned. Usually self-possessed in any company, he was astonished to find his brain fumbling for something to say.

`I reckon you find time hangs some on yore hands here, ma'am,' he managed at last.

She smiled, showing even, white teeth. `Not for a moment; the valley is charming, I have books, and with eight hungry men to provide for there is plenty to do. You wouldn't believe how they eat.'

`I would, seein' I have to foot the bill for near twice that number,' he replied, and with a glance at her slim hands, `but shorely you don't have all of it yourself.'

`No, Lindy--our cook--does most,' she admitted. `I just potter about, trying to help.'

His murmur of `Lucky Lindy' brought a dimple into evidence, and then she said, rather hurriedly. `Here is Mister Drait.' The nester's brows came together when he recognised his visitor. `What are you doin' here, Cullin?' he asked.

With a man to deal with, the owner of the Big C recovered his poise. Passin' my time very pleasantly,' he replied, with a smile at the girl. `I wanta talk with you.'

`Come inside,' Nick said brusquely, and led the way to the parlour. When they were seated, he added, `Well?'

`See you've walled up the entrance.'

`Anythin' against a man fencin' his own properny?'

`S'pose not, but it ain't a neighbourly act.'

`I can show you a couple o' mounds due to acts that warn't neighbourly neither,' Nick reminded.

This was a bad beginning, and Cullin did not reply at once. He had come there to deliver an ultimatum--the nester must take what the cattlemen chose to offer, or be driven out by force. But that slender figure on the veranda, with its crown of curls which the sunlight turned to reddish gold, had changed all that. Why, he did not yet comprehend, only that so it was.

`Whan's done is done,' he said heavily. `Mistakes happen. No use in lookin' back--it's the present an' future need takin' care of. You expect to raise cantle here?' And when Drait nodded. `You ain't got grazin' for more'n five or six score.'

`Plenty feed outside the valley.'

`An' plenty usin' it, north, south, an' west, all of us here before you. Where's yore right to come crowdin'?'

`It's free range--not one o' you own a foot of it, an' if you trebled yore herds there'd be grass enough. I'm a cattleman, an' know what I'm talkin' about. Further, you can leave Bardoe out--he on'y raises cows when the owners ain't on nhe watch.'

`Can you prove that?'

`I don't have to; if you ain't wise to it a'ready, you soon will be.'

Cullin laughed unpleasantly. `I hear you've a hundred head in the valley now,' he said. `Rustled from the S P.'

`The first half is correct, the second a lie,' Drait returned curtly. `I threw the man who told you out on his ear this mornin'. You didn't get value for yore fifty, Cullin.'

The blow was a shrewd one, and the Big C owner felt a gust of passion surging within him. But a violent quarrel would not further the vague scheme already milling in his tortuous mind; cunning was the card for the moment.

`Mebbe I've gone the wrong way to work 'bout you, Drait,' he said. `We should have had this pow-wow when you first came. Still, better late than never, they say, an' I guess we can fix somethin' up.' He was silent for a space, apparently deep in thought, and when he looked up again it was with the air of one who has come no a momentous decision. `What I'm goin' to tell you is known on'y to myself an' one other; you must keep it tight behind yore teeth.'

`I won't chatter, but please yoreself,' the nester replied indifferently.

`The S P will shortly be in the market,' Cullin confided. `It's a fair range, but has been let go to seed. I intend to buy it, an' I'Il need a capable man to take charge--the Big C is a full-time job for me--an' I wouldn't trust Gilman. What about you takin' it on? Shadow Valley'd be a useful link between the ranches.'

Drait was in no hurry to reply; he was trying to plumb the deeps of this amazing and utterly unlooked-for proposition, in which he felt sure there was a catch. `I'll think it over,' he said at last. `Time enough to decide when you get the S P.'

Cullin professed himself satisfied; he had postponed an immediate settlement of his difference with the nester, and provided an excuse for visiting the valley. Mary was still on the veranda when they came out, and the half smile she gave him as he bowed no her, mounted, and rode off, quickened his pulses. He would have liked to delay departure but caution dictated otherwise.

`An' there goes the slimiest reptile in the State,' was Drait's valedictory utterance.

`At least he knew how to behave,' the girl said.

`Oh, he can ape the gentleman for his own purpose,' Nick sneered. `It may interest you to know that he's a confirmed hater o' yore sex.'

`It does not interest me at all,' she replied coldly.

An hour later, the `reptile' was standing in his own parlour

disgustedly surveying the unswept floor, dusty, littered furniture, and torn curtains, so different from the one he had left, spotlessly clean, neatly arranged, and brightened with freshly-picked flowers. Angrily he summoned his Mexican cook and barked orders which promised the man a busy day for the morrow.

Chapter VIII

AFTER being absent for three days, Sudden and Yorky returned. Drait was clearly relieved to see them; he had a great liking for both, and unbounded faith in the judgment of the elder of the pair.

`Come up to the house tonight, Jim,' he invited. `I'm needin' yore advice.'

Mary had retired to her own room when the puncher arrived, and the two men had the parlour to themselves.

`So yu've lost Lamond?' Sudden opened. He had heard as much in the bunkhouse.

`Yeah, but I wouldn't call it a loss,' Nick corrected. `You had him sized up about right. How do you do it, Jim?'

`Oh, I dunno,' Sudden smiled. `I was raised among hosses an' used to study 'em, lookin' for danger-signals a wrong-minded one allus gives sooner or later. I s'pose I got into the habit o' treatin' humans the same; I don't claim it'll work every time.'

`It did this,' the nester said. `I won't trouble you to try it on Cullin--it ain't necessary, but mebbe you can give a guess at the game he's a playin'. He came here, an' instead o' bluster an' threats offered me a share in a deal he has in view. Can't tell you what it is, I promised to stay mum; on'y Cullin an' one other knows of it.'

Sudden grinned. `It wouldn't be the buyin' o' the S P, by any chance?'

Nick straightened in his chair. `Hell's bells !' he cried. `Either yo're that one other, or a wizard.'

`I ain't neither,' the puncher denied. `Take a squint at this.'

He passed over Cullin's letter to the lawyer, the reading of which did not lessen Nick's astonishment. `How in blazes did you come by it?' he wanted to know.

`Before I tell yu that, I gotta own up that I've been keepin' somethin' back,' Sudden replied. `I let on that me an' Yorky were just sorta sight-seem'. That's true in his case, but I was in these parts for a purpose, an' I teamed up with yu because it suited my plans. Also I guess I kind o' took to you,' he finished awkwardly.

`Didn't find too many o' them danger-signals, huh?' Nick asked slyly.

Sudden laughed. `I'm here, ain't I?'

`Yeah, an' I'm damn glad. The rest don't matter nohow; yore business is no concern o' mine.'

`Don't be too shore; my job was to find the owner o' the S P.' `Well, it ain't likely to be me,' the nester chuckled, and then, Was to find him, you said. Does that mean...?'

`Here's the story,' the puncher replied, and told of the visit to Rideout; the interview with the lawyer, and subsequent proceedings. `It was pretty clear that Seale didn't want to find the heir, an' the letter from Cullin made it a shore thing; he was after that thousand bucks, an' with the price o' the ranch an' cattle left in his hands, it must 'a' looked like a dream come true. Thanks to Yorky, he'll have to think some more--an' think hard.'

`I figured that boy had brains,' the nester said.

Sudden smiled agreement. `Well, we picked up the trail where Seale dropped it, at Deepridge. Mary Pavitt an' her husband had married, lived, an' died there. The child, a girl, was sent to a sort o' home for orphans at Redstone, with what money there was to pay for her keep an' education. When she was about sixteen, she went as a mother's help to a small farm in the district. Nearly four years later, these folk moved East, an' she got another job at Shanton. Know it?'

. `Passed through once, an' that was a-plenty,' Drait replied. `It's a bit south o' Taole Mesa.'

`That's so,' Sudden agreed. `We found the house--if yu could call it nhat--owned by a mighty craggy couple, the woman a virago an' the man a shifty-eyed sneak. They denied all knowledge o' the girl at first, but when they found that wouldn't get 'em anywhere but into trouble, they admitted she had been there, but had disappeared, somethin' short o' two months ago. Her name was Mary Frances Darrell. Mebbe yu can finish the tale.'

The nester looked up. `It's an amazin' one, for shore, an' there ain't much I can add to it,' he began. `I found her wanderin' in the woods the afternoon afore I met you. She admitted she had run away, had no folks, an' nowhere to go; I fetched her here. O' course, I never dreamed o' connectin' her with Pavitt; she didn't mention him, an' they were searchin' for a woman twice her age or a young man.'

`She may not have heard the name till she came to the valley,' Sudden suggested. `I'd like a word with her if it ain't too late.'

`I'll find out,' Nick replied.

He returned in a few moments. `She's comin' along,' he said. `Mebbe it'll be easier for her if I ain't here. Back soon.'

Before the other had time to protest, he had gone, and almost immediately, the girl came in, seated herself in the chair Nick had vacated, and looked enquiringly at the puncher.

`You have something to tell me?'

`Somethin' to ask yu first,' he smiled. `An' it ain't just curiosiny. Yu were born at?'

`A town called Deepridge, but as I left there when I was eight--having lost both my parents--I remember little of it.' Further questions brought confirmation of his own discoveries concerning her movements. There was one more test. `What did yore parents call yu?'

`Frankie. You see, I was a disappointment; both of them had wanted a boy.'

Sudden, conscious that he was reviving sad memories, grinned and said consolingly, `Shucks! boys ain't so much.' This brought a smile, wistful, maybe, but still, a smile. `Can you tell me yore mother's maiden name?' Sudden went on.

She shook her head. `I cannot recall ever having heard it.' `Well, I guess yu've told me all I need to know,' he said. `I'm obliged to yu, ma'am.'

`May I put a question?' she asked, and when he agreed that it was certainly her turn, added, `Why do you want this information?'

He told the history of Mary Pavitt, her flight from home, and the old man's bequest. `I've been lookin' for her child, who is the rightful owner of the S P ranch; I reckon I've found her,' he ended.

`It seems--incredible,' she breathed.

`The incredible part is that yu weren't unearthed a while ago,' Sudden said drily. `That lawyer fella must be dumb, or....' He left her to supply the alternative. `One thing more : I wouldn't speak of it, even to Lindy; there might be a snag somewheres.'

`Does Mister Drait know?' she asked.

`Naturally, I told him. He won't talk.'

She rose and began to stammer thanks, but he waved them aside. `Nothin' no that,' he said hastily. `I'm on'y doin' what I came to do.'

In the semi-darkness of her room, Mary strove to school her excited brain into a calm consideration of this seeming inevitable change in her life. What would it mean? Wealth, independence, freedom? Not the latter, for she would still be tied to the harsh, inscrutable man she had married. She wondered whether Drait would be glad, or sorry? He would never let her know, but she shut her teeth on the determination that it should be which she chose. She would be leaving Shadow Valley, and to her surprise, this thought produced a pang of regret.

While the girl was wrestling wint her problem, her husband returned to the parlour, dropped into a chair, and looked enquiringly at his companion.

`It's as certain as the Day o' Judgment,' the puncher told him, adding meditatively, `It busts up Cullin's game--yu won't need to consider that offer now.'

`I never intended to,' Drait said.

`If she decides to keep the ranch, she'll want a good man to run it; Gilman would steal the floor from under her feet.' `Yeah, it'll be a jolt for him, too. Bardoe won't like it, an' the sheriff'll be peeved. Take it all round, Jim, you ain't goin' to be the best-liked man hereabouts.'

`That's happened before,' Sudden replied, a twinkle in his eyes. `I never let it lose me any sleep. If some o' the folks I've met up with in this world o' sin had liked me, I'd 'a' hated myself.'

`I got fifty more critters from the S P while you were away. Yeah, I took the numbers o' the bills. What you meanin' to do about Seale?'

`Invite him to come over, mentionin' why. I'll bet he will too, a-runnin', an' I'll double the bet that from here he'll head straight for the Big C, in the hope o' still bein' able to corral that thousand bucks.'

`Well, I'm mightly glad you've turned the trick, Jim, both for the gal's sake an' yore own. With the job practically finished, I s'pose you'll be hittin' the trail soon?' Drait said moodily.

Sudden shook his head. `There's a lot to be done yet.'

`Good,' was the hearty reply, but as he returned to the bunkhouse the puncher had a feeling that his latest exploit had not quite pleased nhe nester, and he wondered why.

Chapter IX

THE letter announcing the bare fact that an heir to the S P had been brought to light produced a galvanic effect upon the Weasel. Though he tried to persuade himself that it must be a spurious claim which could be easily disproved, he lost no time in looking into the matter. The weekly coach carried him to Midway, and there he hired a buckboard to complete the journey, consoling himself with the reflection that the estate would pay his expenses.

He was conversant with the sinister history of Shadow Valley, and knew it was at present in the possession of an undesirable named Drait. But the letter he had received was signed `James Green' and this told him nothing. So, when ushered by Lindy into the parlour, it was quite a surprise to find a familiar face--that of the cowboy from the Border, who had visited him in Rideout.

`So it's you?' he said.

`Li'l of me,' the other smiled. `Couldn't go back to pore Eli empty-handed, yu know. Help yoreself to a seat.' He turned to the young girl, who, sitting rather in the shadow was the only other occupant of the room. `This is Luke Seale, ma'am; he's been tryin' to find yu for a goodish bit.'

`My search was for a much older woman or a youth called "Frank,"' the lawyer said sharply. `If this is a joke....' `Do I look that sort o' fool?' Sudden demanded. `Now, pay close attention to what I'm goin' to tell yu. My enquiries started at Deepridge, where your'n left off.' The Weasel blinked at this, and then listened in glum silence while Sudden, step by step, related the tale of his investigation.

`Sounds all right,' he said sourly, when the puncher ended, `but it's no more than hearsay, so to speak; the Law demands documentary evidence.' At the back of his mind, however, a four-figure sum of money was receding into the distance.

`We aim to please,' Sudden smiled, and dived into a pocket. `I got on the trail o' the preacher who married Mary Pavitt an' Francis Darrell--fella named "Josiah Jones." ' Neither of the men noticed the girl's start of surprise. `He ain't at Deepridge no more, but I can tell yu where to locate him. He dug up an old register an' here's a copy o' the entry in it.'

Seale studied the slip of paper. `It could be forged,' he said, and looked into eyes of chilled steel. `I'm not saying it is `The same fella baptised the child, an' there's people in Deepridge who remember she was called "Frankie" by her parents,' the puncher went on. `Here is another document, which is genuine--I wrote it my own self.' His grin was not of the pleasant variety. `It's the address o' the orphanage, where they'll show yu the record of Miss Darrell's stay there, an' give yu a pretty near description of her. Well, what d'yu think?'

All that the lawyer could think at the moment was that a substantial commission, together with the opportunity of vastly increasing it, were disappearing like a dream. He flogged his brain to discover some flaw in the evidence which would restore a glimmer of hope.

`Your facts about Miss Darrell may be correct, but you have not proved, as yet, that your claimant is that person,' Seale said.

The girl spoke for the first time : `Did you ever see Mary Pavitt before she left home, Mister Seale?'

`Many times,' he replied absently.

She rose and moved forward into a better light. `Would you say that I resemble her?'

He raised his head, and his mean little eyes opened to their fullest extent. `God! You're her living image,' he cried, shocked into speaking the truth.

`I have been told so,' she said quietly. `Are you satisfied?'

He was, but would not admit it; even now, there might be some way out. `You certainly have a case,' he said. `It will take time to examine it thoroughly.'

`Don't worry if yu lose that certificate,' Sudden said sardonically. `The original an' the man who wrote it can be produced. Yu will inform the Governor, o' course?'

`No need--at present,' Seale said hurriedly. `The matter is in my hands. As soon as I have come to a decision, I will take the necessary steps to put Miss Darrell in possession of the property.'

With which pompous statement he took his leave. The puncher accompanied him to the door. `Speed is what we want, ol'-timer,' he said in a low voice. `The lady has been without her inheritance long enough. Remember, yu can pay too high a price even for a thousand bucks.'

His face a pasty yellow, the man scuttled out of the house, scrambled into his conveyance, and grabbed the whip. Sudden's amused gaze followed him.

`Hell ! I oughta mentioned the nearest way to the Big C,' he soliloquised.

Sudden's prediction as to the lawyer's destination was correct, and he proceeded there as quickly as the raw-boned beast he was driving could take him. Only when the buckboard was within sight of the Big C ranch-house did he slacken pace; he was not looking forward to the interview; the rancher's tongue was two-edged, and he never troubled to conceal his contempt for those he used.

`Well, what foul wind has blown you here?' was his greeting.

`I've news--bad news, Greg,' the lawyer replied.

`You shore look it. Bad for you, or for me?'

`For both of us--we've lost the S P.'

Cullin's frown deepened. `Which means you've made a mess of things, I s'pose. How come?'

The missing heir has turned up.'

`Well, with yore knowledge of how to evade the Law you oughta oe able to upset the claim.'

Seale shook his head. `It's as straight as a string--they have the proofs. I haven't said so--yet, but there isn't a doubt.' `Who are they?'

The claimant and the chap who found her--a cowpuncher from the Mexican Border.'

`Found her?' Cullin repeated. `You told me the Pavitt woman had cashed, an' nhat it was her son you were lookin' for. You better spill the beans.'

The lawyer was ready enough; he knew that if there should be a means of evasion, the cattleman, with his acute, unscrupulous brain would find it. Cullin, poker-faced, listened without comment until he finished.

You oughta done as I suggested--searched her out yoreself,' he said. `Then we could've arranged that no claim would be made. What you gotta do now is make a friend o' the gal, put her in possession as soon as maybe, an'--not pointedly, slam the S P; it's been neglected, badly managed, the profit small, an' the outlook for the cattle trade generally--gloomy. Get her to let you sell an' invest the coin, leavin' her free to have a good time an' no anxiety. Play yore part right an' she'll fall for it, an' my offer to you still stands. By the way, where is that letter?'

`Burned--it was dangerous,' the lawyer lied. `As for your plan, it's good--you still have the gift--but it will fail; the girl won't lack advisers; I forgot to mention that at present she's living in Shadow Valley.'

Cullin sprang from his seat. `So it's that girl?' he cried. `How'n hell did she get there, an' what's she doin'?'

`She skedaddled from her last job, and Drait found her adrift in the wilds,' Seale explained, adding with a sneer, `As to what she's doing, it doesn't need two guesses.'

He got a black look. `I wouldn't repeat that, Seale,' came the warning. `I've seen her, an' she's not that sort.'

This left the man of law speechless; Cullin defending a woman's character was something he never dreamed of witnessing. He had expected an eruption, and here was the human volcano seated again, and wearing a slow smile of satisfaction. Indeed, the rancher had reason. The luck was breaking for him; the woman he wanted, the ranch for which he had schemed, and the man he hated, seemed no be almost within his grasp. He found himself wondering about the girl, for although he had closed Seale's evil mouth, it had been no tribute to her, but merely an automatic gesture--he would not permit a slur on one he intended to make his own. Presently he spoke again:

`Forget all I've said, Luke, except puttin' Miss Darrell in possession as quickly as possible. An' she's to have a straight deal. You can leave the rest to me; I'll see you don't lose by it.'

Fortified by a stiff dose of whisky, the lawyer set out for Midway, where he would stay the night and catch the coach in the morning. It had been a tiring day, both physically and mentally, and though cheered somewhat by the reflection that all was not yet lost, he was far from sanguine. Worry his wits as he might, utter failure resulted from his efforts to fathom Cullin's reaction to the news, but obviously the rancher had a plan, and the Weasel promised himself that he would discover and profit by it. The missing letter troubled him; he had only learned of the loss some days after it had been taken. The cowboy's farewell remark he put down as a shot in the dark, for he had completely forgotten the temporary absence of his keys.

Meanwhile, the man he had left was striding up and down his room, busily building a pleasing picture. Ownership of the Big C and the S P would make him the wealthiest cattleman for many miles round, and bring the corresponding power. Bardoe would have to be abolished, and Vasco eventually bought or squeezed out. Shadow Valley could be made use of.

`Might put up a fine house there, if she's keen on the spot,' he muttered. His thoughts went to this woman he had seen but once and desired so desperately. `Beau said she don't care none for the fella, so she won't miss him.' For Nicholas Drait was condemned; he was in the way.

**

Despite the fact that the day was young, Jack Gilman lay supine in the shade of the veranda, stretched out in a comfortable chair, feet on the railing, eyes closed and mouth open. He was awakened by a sharp command :

`Stick 'em up !'

He came alive instantly, started to obey, and then paused when he saw no weapon threatened him; the man who had given the order was merely regarding him with contemptuous amusement.

`You'd be easy, wouldn't you?' Cullin said, for he it was. `One o' these days somebody'll take the ranch away from you.' `Not while I got my health,' Gilman grinned. `I had a hard day yestiddy.'

Cullin got down and stood surveying the range. It pleased him, but the neglected condition of the buildings had the opposite effect. He reached out a cigar, passed one to the foreman, and took a seat.

`Ol' Sam certainly had an eye for a location,' he remarked. `Well, he was here first, an' it's on'y to be expected he'd get the best. You'll be sorry to leave it.'

`Leave it--me?' Gilman ejaculated. `What's yore meanin'?'

Cullin shrugged. `you don't appear to have heard the news. O' course, it ain't known but to a few yet.'

`Did you come to tell me?'

`No, just a neighbourly call--I allus had a fancy for this place,' the rancher replied. `I certainly thought Seale would have sent you word.'

`Word of what?' the foreman snapped. `If that dirty little runt is tryin' to put anythin' over on me....'

The suspense was putting an edge on his temper as the visitor intended. He now struck--hard : `There's no question o' that. The lawful owner o' the S P has turned up in the person o' Sam Pavitt's gran'daughter; "Frankie" wasn't a boy after all.'

He saw the man flinch as from a physical blow, and it gratified his delight in giving pain. But Gilman soon recovered. `A girl, huh?' he said. `That don't mean I gotta go. She'll need someone to manage things, I guess, knowin' nothin' about cattle.'

`I'm afraid you'll have no guess again,' Cullin said. `You see, the heiress happens to be the girl I told you was residing with Drait. If she wants help....'

This second blow shook the foreman to his very foundations. `That damned nester,' he exploded, after a stunned silence. `There's on'y one o' that name around here, thank God,' the other replied viciously. `An' he's one too many. By the way, I hear the stock he has in the valley came from the S P. What about it?'

`If they did, he stole 'em,' Gilman retorted instantly.

`A hundred head, all without brands?' This incredulously. `Ain't yore riders doin' anythin' for their pay?'

The foreman lifted his shoulders. `Shouldn't wonder if there's more. I'm short-handed--to keep down expenses--an' with the future o' the ranch in the air, I reckon none of us feels like overworkin'--you wouldn't yoreself.'

`Possibly, but you'll have some explainin' to do; Drait's no tenderfoot.'

`Me too; mebbe he'll have some to do first.'

`O' course, if you could prove he helped hisself to those cows,' Cullin said softly.

The eyes of the two men met, and the foreman knew that his story was not accepted; he also read the meaning behind Cullin's last remark.

`Have to consider if somethin' can't be done 'bout that,' he said. `If not, there's other ways.'

The rancher rose. `It is, o' course, entirely yore affair, but we shall miss you, Gilman.'

The foreman's sullen gaze watched him cross the open anddisappear among the trees. `Yeah, my affair,' he sneered. `You want him got rid of, an' I'm to do it for you. Mebbe I will, because it suits my hand too, but if I have to start killin', look to yoreself, Cullin, you bastard.'

Though he failed no divine the malignity he had left behind, the Big C man knew he had not earned any gratitude. Nevertheless, he was satisfied with the morning's work. It was perfectly plain to him that Gilman had been robbing the S P, and pretty certain that Drait already knew, or would soon discover the fact. The removal of the nester therefore became imperative if the foreman was to retain his post, or even his ill-gotten gains. But Cullin was not the type to be content with only one chance in a lottery, and his mind was casting about for a second. It did not take long to decide; Bardoe's animosity towards Drait almost equalled his own.

From where he was, the route to the 8 B skirted Shadow Valley, and he was only a short distance from nhe entrance when he saw a rider ahead, a slight figure, dressed in grey, which he instantly recognised. Smothering a whoop of exultation, he loped after and soon overtook her. Hat in hand, he ranged alongside.

`This is certainly my lucky day,' he smiled. `Didn't dream I'd have the pleasure o' seein' you again so soon. Do you often ride this way?'

She shook her head. `I am venturing outside the valley for the first time.'

`I hope it won't be the last.'

For some moments they paced in silence. Thrilled by the nearness of her, the man was content to look, noting the easy grace with which she rode, the delicate colour under the faint tan of her cheeks, the curling tendrils of hair straying from beneath her hat-brim. Mary's eyes, though less searching, had not been entirely idle. Though he wore the garb of the country, she had seen that it was of superior quality, the shirt and neckerchief of silk, and his face newly-shaven. She would have described him as well-dressed, without the flashiness of Beau Lamond. Presently he laughed.

`Why, I have forgotten to congratulate you.' He saw she did not comprehend. `Upon yore inheritance.' `Oh, that,' she replied, with a tiny frown. `Nothing is settled yet, and I'm sorry it is being talked about.'

`It isn't. Seale--who is also my lawyer--visited me last evening on business. He seemed very pleased about somethin' an' eventually admitted, in confidence, that it was because he is now in a position to clear up the Pavitt estate, havin' discovered the owner.'

`I would be much more grateful if he had found me three months ago,' the girl said, and there was an undercurrent in her tone which he could not guess at.

`I think you will have no more reason to complain on that score,' he assured her. `Seale is under obligation to me, an' I've made it plain that any unnecessary delay in your case will be an unfriendly act to myself.'

`That was very kind of you, Mister Cullin,' she said warmly. `Not a-tall, just fairness,' he replied, and then smiled. `What does Drait think about yore good fortune?'

`We haven't discussed it yet,' she answered. `I imagine that, like myself, he prefers to deal with facts.'

`You have known him long?'

'No,' she replied shortly, and he did not pursue the subject.

He offered no protest when she wished to return, but insisted on escorting her.

They parted at the spot where they had met, and the clasp of her hand made his blood burn. Holding it, he said: `I want you to nhink of me as a friend, one who will always be ready to help you in case of need.'

Without waiting for any response, he turned abruptly and rode away. For a moment she sat gazing after him, astonished and rather impressed--as he had meant her to be. He did not look back.

Riding slowly back to Shadow Valley, she vainly endeavoured to arrange her ideas about her late companion. Though he had clearly shown that he admired her, it had not been done with the crude and offensive familiarity of Lamond. She liked him, and yet....

The Big C man was in no doubt about his feelings--he wanted this woman and would have her, by fair means or foul. What she was to the nester he did not know, but should it prove an obstacle that was just too bad--for Drait. He rode on towards his destination, smiling grimly.

He was welcomed with some surprise and no great show of amiability, but was invited in and the customary bottle was produced.

`Well, Greg, you wouldn't come all this way 'less you wanted somethin',' Bardoe began. `Let's have it.'

`My dear Bull,' the visitor protested mildly, and Bardoe stiffened; Cullin, in a polite mood, was to be suspected. `The pleasure of seein' you ...'

`Take a good long look an' then gimme the real reason,' the other said sourly.

`What a doubtin' Thomas you are, Bull,' Cullin smiled. `But there was an item of news I fancied might interest you; the S P is changin' hands.'

The other's eyes narrowed. Was it a guess, or had something leaked out? `No,' he replied evenly. `The missin' heir has been discovered--Pavitt's grand-daughter.'

`A gal, after all, huh. How should that interest me?'

`Jack Gilman'll have to go.'

`Can't see why--she'll need a foreman.'

Will she? Nicholas Drait is at present takin' care of her,' Cullen said carelessly.

Bardoe's eyebrows climbed, his mouth opened ludicrously as this statement sank in. `Are you mad, or am I?' he asked.

`Probably both of us, but what I've told you is a cold fact.'

Bull digested this in frowning silence. The girl he had lost was actually the possessor of the S P ranch, and the man who had stolen her--as he put it--was holding her. The shock was a staggering one. If only he--but that would not bear thinking of. Cullin was astonished at the effect of his news; Bull could not be so concerned about the foreman's future.

`It's tough luck on Gilman,' he remarked.

`To hell with Gilman,' Bardoe retorted. `It's tough on me.' `Afraid I don't get you.'

`Listen,' Bull growled. `When Drait tried to bump me off that time up on Table Mesa, I had a gal ridin' behind me. I'd picked her up less'n an hour earlier, fair lost an' pretty well all in. Said she'd stampeded from the place she was workin' an' that she'd no folks an' nowhere to go. I offered her a job as housekeeper at the 8 B, an' she agreed. It warn't no hardship to look at her--young an' fresh, which is how I like 'em.' He leered at his listener. `You know what happened, Drait did a pore job but knocked me out. He took the gal--they were together when my fellas catched him, an' if it hadn't bin for them two strangers--helI burn their bones--she'd 'a' bin fetched back to me. I want her, which is somethin' you wouldn't understand, an' I mean to have her, 'specially now; the S P would suit me fine.'

It was a tribute to Cullin's faculty of self-control that he was able to present a blank face during this brutal admission. But he had come to find a tool, and if it was keener and more dangerous than he had looked for, so much the better. When the work was done...

`You'll find Drait a hard nut,' he remarked. I'll expect he'll marry her--now.'

`All one to me,' Bardoe chuckled. `I don't mind a widow if she's a good-looker.'

The Big C man emptied his glass. `I wish you luck, Bull,' he said. `Don't try anythin' too raw an' rely on gettin' away with it; Midway is more than a mite doubtful o' Camort, an' the Judge is jumpy. Losin' Gilman an' Vasco, we won't be too strong.'

`You needn't to worry,' Bardoe grinned. `With that cursed nester attended to an' me in the saddle at the S P, we'll have 'em where's the hair's short.'

He accompanied his visitor to the door, and sent a satirical grimace after him. `Eggs me on, an' then fobs me off,' he mused. `Well, Mister Cullin, I dunno what yore game is but I'm playin' my own an' may the Devil take you.'

Cullin, riding with bent head, had plenty to occupy his mind. A bringer of news, he had also learned some. Presently he laughed.

`He downs Drait, an' we hang him for it,' he said, and this entirely satisfactory solution restored his temper to almost normal. At the Big C he found Lamond awaiting him.

`Want yore job back? So Drait fired you. Why?'

`Double-crossin' him, he said, but the real reason was he catched me sparkin' the gal an', believe me, she's worth a risk.'

`You were lucky; me, I'd a' beefed you,' the rancher said.

`So would he, but she begged him not to,' Lamond grinned. `Said for me to leave the country, but I'm stayin'; I mean to git him--an' her.'

Again Cullin schooled his features to impassivity. Here was a third string to his bow, and he did not hesitate. `Awright, when you've settled with the nester I'll put you on the pay-roll.'

`That's a bet,' the cowboy said jauntily, and went out.

The rancher smiled contentedly. The wise man gets others to run the risks, an' then, helps hisself to the stakes.'

Chapter X

NEARLY two weeks passed and nothing occurred to disturb the serenity of Shadow Valley. But the nester indulged in no false sense of security, and he was right--his enemies were not idle. The first evidence of this was provided by the arrival, in the early morning, of the sheriff, supported by a couple of deputies. Hammering on the gate, he demanded admittance `in the name of the Law.'

Drait and his wife came out of the house just as the procession arrived; they were about to take their usual ride. The intruder surveyed them malevolently.

`Needin' me?' the nester enquired.

`You betcha,' Camort replied, and held up a paper. `This is a warrant.'

`Another?' Drait grinned. Perseverin' fella, ain't you? What have you cooked up this time?'

`Just a little matter o' liftin' other folk's cattle, that's all,' the sheriff sneered, and turned to his assistants. `Take his gun an' put the cuffs on him. If he resists, shoot.'

Wall-eye and his companion hesitated, and then began to dismount--slowly. Drait's harsh voice interrupted the operation. `Stay in yore saddles--you'll be safer. I'm comin' with you, Stinker, free an' armed. In case you got other ideas, let me point out that Quilt is holdin' a rifle on you, an' if I nod, Midway will be able to elect a real sheriff. As for yore hirelin's, I could put 'em on the ground quicker'n they'd get there any other way. Next time you try to take me by force, you'd better bring the force.'

Camort's face was poisonous. `There won't be no next time,' he snarled. `We got the deadwood on you.'

It was at this point that Sudden and Yorky rode up. Drait grinned. 'Comin' to town, Jim? Stinker has issued an invite.' He turned to Mary. `Yorky will take you along the valley.'

In a few moments they set out, the nester and Sudden in advance, with the sheriff and his deputies following. Quilt convoyed them to the gate.

`Say, Nick, let them polecats ride ahead, in case of an accident,' he advised loudly.

`You're forgettin' Stinker represents the Law, with a big L,' his boss smiled.

`Mis-represents it, you mean,' the foreman snorted. `There's another big hell a-gapin' for him if he tries any tricks.'

`Threats from yore men won't help you, or scare me from doin' my dooty,' Camort growled.

`Quilt ain't threatenin' you, he's just makin' a promise,' Drait returned lightly. `An' he's one o' those unusual people who keeps 'em.'

Comforting himself with the reflection that his turn was coming, the sheriff dropped into a sullen silence which his underlings forbore to break. A few yards in front of them Nick and his companion conversed in low tones.

The usually busy street of Midway seemed strangely empty. Outside the bank, Drait pulled up, slipped from his saddle, and went in. The sheriff uttered an exclamation and put a hand to his gun-butt, only to fetch it away with celerity when Sudden turned a chilly eye on him, the nester was back in a few moments. A little further along they were welcomed with a whoop by Pilch.

"Lo, Nick, you've won me ten bucks,' he greeted. `I bet you'd face the music, come free, an' wearin' yore gun.'

`Good for you, ol-timer,' Drait smiled. `Hope it ain't one o' my friends yo're saltin'.'

`Not any; the victim is that happy-lookin' guy behind you, with a star on his manly buzzum.'

The nester stole a glance at the sheriff, whose face resembled a miniature thunder-cloud, and shook his head. Too bad to take advantage of a half-wit,' he said. `Where's everybody?'

`Down to the court-room. Say, they got it all arranged--jury packed--Stinker would say "picked" but it's the same thing, witnesses primed up, and the Judge waitin' to walk in, sober, if possible. But you'll have a square deal, son, or the fur'll fly. I'll have that ten now, Camort; fat men like you is apt to die unexpected.'

The money was handed over; Pilch owned the principal store and had influence in the town, and the officer was well aware that his own popularity was on the wane. He was relying on this trial to re-establish it.

A group of idlers outside the court-house welcomed their arrival with a cheer and hurried in with the news. There was no demonstration when they entered beyond a murmur of excitement and a craning of necks to see how the accused was taking it. What they saw was an entirely unconcerned man, whose eyes twinkled when they encountered a friendly face, and froze for those which were hostile.

The room was spacious, with a raised platform at one end ors which stood a desk for the Judge, and in front, a table for his clerk. At the right and left, were railed-in stands. The sheriff pointed to one of these.

`There's the dock,' he said.

`Try an' get me into it,' Drait retorted grimly, and approached two chairs in the first row for himself and his companion.

Camort decided not to insist. The place was full, those unable to find seats lounging against the walls. Sudden recognised some of them: Vasco and his foreman, with Cullin sitting next; Gilman, whispering with the sheriff, apparently not quite at ease; Bardoe and Lanty, whose eyes gleamed evilly when they rested on the accused; Merker, and to his surprise, the lawyer, Seale. He sought the jury and found it in an enclosure which afforded a good view of nhe witness-stand and the dock, and one glance told him that the members would be more at home in the latter place.

A door at the back of the platform opened, and the Judge entered, deposited his high hat on the desk, sat down, and surveyed the gathering nhrough red-rimmed, watery eyes.

`He ain't feelin' so good,' someone remarked audibly. `I'll bet breakfast meant just nothin' to him this mornin'.'

`Where's the prisoner?' the Judge snapped. `Why isn't he in the dock?'

Draft stood up. `Because I am not a prisoner,' he said. `I came here o' my own free will.'

Towler apparently took no notice; he was listening to the sheriff's mumbled explanation.

`Most irregular,' he said irritably, and glared at the culprit. `You are charged with stealing cattle from the S P ranch. Are you guilty or not guilty?'

`That's what you gotta find out,' Drait said drily.

The Judge made a gesture of impatience. Put Gilman in the box,' he told the sheriff, and when this had been done, added, `State your case.'

`I'm accusin' Draft there o' rustlin' one hundred head, calves an' yearlin's, from the S P,' the foreman stated. `Two o' my men saw him drivin' em off 'bout daybreak.'

`Yo're shore it was just a hundred?' the nester asked, and when Gilman nodded, `Searchin' out that number o' unmarked beasts in the dark'd be a long an' pesky job.'

`You didn't have it to do; they was rounded up in the home pasture all ready for

`Me to take?' Nick finished blandly.

`No, for us to brand in the mornin'--that's how I know the tally,' Gilman grinned. He felt he had scored a point.

`Why didn't yore fellas do somethin'?'

`They was two to yore five. When I heard, I put it up to the sheriff. He suggested we lay a trap to make shore; we baited it with fifty more critters, an' you tumbled right into it.'

`Did you inform Mister Seale, yore boss, of these losses?'

`No, I ain't seen him, an' I expected to git the missin' cattle back.'

`I like yore second reason better,' Drait said, and turned to the Judge. `Mebbe it'll shorten the proceedin's if I own to takin' the herds, but--'

`That's an admission of guilt, and I will not listen to excuses,' Towler cut in.

`You ain't goin' to hear any, an' a man in yore position shouldn't jump to conclusions, even if he is thirsty,' came the acid reply. 'I'm tellin' you facts, an' by God! yo're goin' to listen.' Their eyes met and clashed, but the older man--his will weakened by excess--was no match for his young, virile opponent. His head dropped, and he said wearily, `I'll hear you.'

The cattle were taken by arrangement with that dirty cur,' Drait resumed, pointing to the witness. `That's why they were rounded up in readiness. He wanted 'em driven away early so it shouldn't be knowed he was sellin' stock--claimed the S P was short o' cash. Was that so, Mister Seale?'

`No,' the lawyer replied curtly.

`I paid for these beasts, seven bucks a head, all round,' Drait continued, amid a dead silence.

`Can you prove that?' the Judge asked, and Gilman laughed. `I reckon,' the nester said. `Mister Williams.'

The manager of the bank stood up; nearing fifty, with a keen, clever face, he took little part in the activities of the town outside his business, and was generally respected.

`Mister Drait is a customer,' he began quietly. `Recently he drew out two sums of seven hundred and three hundred and fifty dollars exactly. At his request, I noted down the numbers of the bills.' He paused, and Sudden, watching Gilman, saw the swift dawn of apprehension in his eyes. `Those identical bills, in amounts as issued, have returned to the bank,' Williams resumed. `They were paid in by Mister Gilman to his private account.'

The simple statement hit the audience like a landslide. Cries of amazement and oaths of disgust came from all sides, and in the hubbub, Gilman--almost stunned by this crushing blow--lost his head.

`You made a mistake, Williams,' he shouted. `I meant it for the ranch account.'

Instantly Drait cut in. `Take notice, Judge; he admits I paid for the cattle.'

Williams spoke again. `The bank does not make mistakes, Mister Gilman; I overheard your instruction to my clerk on both occasions. However, since you now say these sums belong to the S P, I will see that they are transferred.'

The foreman forgot to thank him. He realised that he had completely given himself away, and that personal peril had taken the place of the triumph for which he had plotted. He stood there, head down, shooting furtive glances in quest of a friendly face and failing to find it. But his ordeal was non yet over.

`Got rid of any other stock lately?' Drait asked, and when he got a sullen denial, `What about the hundred three-year-olds sold to Bardoe? Lyin' won't help you, fella; I have it here in yore own fist.'

Gilman recognised the slip of paper, and despite the heat of the crowded room, was conscious of a chilliness. How much more did this devil of a nester know?

`I forgot,' he mumbled. `They ain't bin settled for.'

`That coin was due to the S P?' The foreman nodded. `Then you'll be glad to know it was placed no the credit o' the ranch some weeks back.'

Gilman turned a vindictive glare on Bardoe, which Drait easily interpreted. `On'y partly right,' he said. `Bull provided the gold, but I collected an' paid it in.'

Towler became aware that the 8 B man was regarding him with a heavy frown, and that he was expected to do something about it. He fired a question at Drait :

`Anything more to say?'

`On'y this,' Nick replied. `I want you to get the layout. Gilman sold me the cattle an' put the proceeds in his pocket. Then he frames this charge, hopin' I'll hang. If it happens thataway, he gets the stock back, an' is one hundred an' fifty bucks to the good, with nobody the wiser. It's a safe bet he meant to play the same game when Bardoe paid up.'

As Drait sat down, Pilch shouted, `Well done Shadow Valley,' and there was considerable applause. The Judge rapped sharply on the desk.

`Silence! or I'll clear the court,' he cried.

The storekeeper was not no be intimidated. `Which I'd admire for you to try, Judge,' he said derisively, and raised a laugh.

The sheriff was whispering to the man on the Bench. `He's got us cinched,' he said anxiously. `Ain't there no way to ditch him?'

The Judge considered, and then his weak mouth twisted into a vicious smile, as he rapped again for attention. `The case is not yet finished,' he said. `It is clear that the cattle the accused claims to have bought were stolen by Gilman for his own profit. Now, if Drait knew this, he becomes liable to charges of conspiring and receiving.'

The foreman saw an opportunity to bite; he could hardly make his own situation worse. `An' that's how it was, Judge,' he called out. `We fixed it up atween us.'

`If the accused has any statement to make I am ready to listen,' Towler said blandly, as though conferring a favour.

Drait rose; this was an unexpected development, and he did not like it. `Gilman, as foreman in charge, had the power to dispose o' stock,' he explained quietly. `I bought, an' took steps to protect myself against a possible snare. What had I to gain by his crookedness?'

`You got yore cattle damned cheap,' Bardoe suggested.

`Not so damned cheap either--I would 'a' let him have some at the price,' Vasco chimed in. `An' if seven a head is cheap for calves, what about the three-year-olds you got for ten?'

Bardoe subsided, inwardly cursing himself. In his eagerness to strike a blow at the nester, he had forgotten his own position.

Cullin had listened unmoved, but only to appearance. From the moment Gilman's dishonesty had been revealed, he knew the day was lost. Towler's persistency was only making matters worse--he was showing bias too plainly. With Gilman and Bardoe discredited, and Vasco in the other camp, the position was perilous. His agile brain evolved a master move to snatch a personal victory out of defeat; by defending Drait he would score with the townsfolk, and avert suspicion from himself if misfortune fell upon the nester in the future. He stood up, and the room became silent.

`In the interest of justice,' he began, `I must point out that the on'y evidence against the accused is the word of a thief who has a'ready lied to the court.'

The Judge stared; he knew he was about to receive orders, but he had to present some sort of a front.

`What do you mean, sir?' he asked.

`Gilman said the stolen herds were gathered for branding! Now he claims that was done by arrangement with Drait. Which statement you goin' to accept?'

`I have not yet directed the jury, Mister Cullin,' Towler said loftily. `Anything else?'

The rancher bit his lip. All right, if the old fool would have it. `Yeah, I very much doubt if, havin' found a man innocent of the offence he was accused of, you have the right to bring in another charge. I know little o' the Law, but mebbe Mister Seale will give us an opinion.'

The lawyer was on his feet instantly, beady eyes agleam: at that moment he almost liked the rancher. Only a month or so previously he had sat in that same place, squirming under the castigating tongue of the man he now had an opportuniny to repay. The Weasel was not one to forget.

`With due respect, I submit that the court is exceeding its powers, and there is nothing in the statunes to justify such procedure,' he said. `In any case, a conviction on the testimony so far adduced would be a judicial crime.'

He sat down, and the room gasped. Towler's pale face had become purple, and he would have joyfully murdered the man who had brought this humiliation upon him. But he was impotent, and knew it. Ignoring the lawyer, he addressed Cullin:

`If you had been a little more patient, sir, you would have heard me instruct the jury to entirely exonerate the accused on both charges,' he explained ponderously. `It was for his benefit I decided that the second--and possible--charge should be dealt with now.'

The verdict having been formally recorded, the Judge dismissed the jury, and remembered he still had a duny to perform. `Sheriff, you will take the fellow, Gilman, into custody and hold him for trial,' he ordered.

Silent, chin on chest, the foreman slouched out, a deputy on either side. Camort followed, glad of an excuse to get away from friends and foes, neither of whom would spare him. The Judge too picked up his hat and departed, bitterly conscious that he had cut a sorry figure.

When Nick and the puncher tried to slip away they found themselves surrounded by a surging section of the crowd yelling crude congratulations, and struggling to get near enough to slap the nester on the back or grab a hand. He endured the ordeal with a sardonic grin, conscious that some of them, anyway, would have striven as strenuously to see him hanged.

`Awright, boys,' he called. `The drinks are shore on me, but you'll have to go to Merker's for 'em.'

This started another stampede--in the direction of the saloon --and in a few moments, only a small group remained; they had remained aloof while the demonstration was on.