Sudden Rides Again

Sudden Rides Again

Oliver Strange

*

Chapter I

"It may be that I'm sending you to your death."

Ominous words, delivered in a quiet, even tone by one to whom the masking of emotion had become a habit. Short, stockily built, of middle age, attired in a suit of sober black, with a "boiled" shirt and neat cravat, there was little to distinguish him from the common herd. But looking into the shrewd grey eyes, one realized the sound judgment, courage, and determination which had placed him in authority. For this was Governor Bleke, of Arizona, a name respected, feared, or hated throughout that lawless land.

"Ain't tryin' to throw a scare into me, are yu, seh?"

The whimsical question evoked a flicker of a smile on the Governor's grave face; the speaker had not the appearance of one to be easily frightened. The long, wiry, narrow-hipped, wide-shouldered frame, clean-cut, tanned features, level, spaced, grey-blue eyes and firm jaw, all proclaimed that here was one with whom it would be unwise to trifle. Two guns, hanging low on his thighs, the holsters secured to his leathern chaps to ensure swift withdrawal, supplied a further warning. His range-rider's garb was plain and serviceable.

For a moment the elder man was silent, studying his companion, noting the curious glances at the shabby parlour, which was the best accommodation he had been able to find in the primitive little settlement dumped down in a waste of sagebrush desert.

"Wondering why I wanted you to meet me here, Jim?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, "Well, Tucson would have been too risky--my movements are watched--and it is important to my purpose that your connection with me should remain a secret."

The cowboy smiled as he recalled the directions he had received: he was to be at Sandy Creek on a day named; in a saloon bar he would meet a "stranger," who would challenge him to a bout of poker, for which they would adjourn to the so-called hotel.

"I sorta guessed yu wouldn't travel a hundred miles to this dog's-body of a town just for a hand o' cyards," he said.

"No, it's a much more serious game and the stakes are high," Bleke replied. "You may lose your life, and I--a friend."

"Thank yu, seh," the cowboy said. "I'm sittin' in."

A gleam of appreciation shone in the Governor's eyes, but what he said was, "Damnation, I knew it, and I hate to ask you, but I believe you're the only man who can put it across."

"Shoot, seh," the other invited coolly.

Bleke lit a cigar, rolled another over the table to his guest; and, after a few contemplative puffs, began:

"There is a man in north-west Arizona who is defying me, the law I represent and was appointed to enforce; he has to be dealt with." His keen gaze was on the younger man's face, but it told him nothing. "Have you heard of Hell City?"

The cowboy's eyes widened just a fraction. "Word of such a place has come to me, seh," he said. "Sorta hideout where a desperate man can find a welcome an' safety, no matter what he's done. I set it down as just a tale for a tenderfoot."

The Governor's face was grim. "Unfortunately, it is a true tale," he replied. "It accounts for most of the outrages in that part of the Territory and for the continued existence and activity of some most undesirable citizens."

"yu know the location?"

"Yes, but that doesn't help much. Hell City has been described to me as a walled fortress which would need an army and artillery for its capture; I have neither. From it, bands of armed ruffians raid and rob in every direction, and for a hundred miles or more the country is in a state of terror. When complaints first began to come in, about a year ago, I sent a man to investigate. For months I had no news, and then he came back--in a coffin. Pinned to his breast was a jeering note inviting me to try again."

"They ain't very well acquainted with yu, seh."

The Governor's voice hardened. "No, the challenge was unnecessary," he went on. "I sent again, and now I have--this." He passed over a sheet of paper and the cowboy read:

DEAR GOVERNOR, your second spy was as clumsy as his predecessor. I shall return him when he ceases to be useful. He makes a fine target for pistol-practice, as the enclosures will show. Why not send a good man?

Adios, SATAN.

"That is the fantastic title this master-brigand has assumed," The Governor explained. "His followers he calls `Imps,' and their vengeance is so feared that no man dares to offend one of them."

The cowboy was still studying the document. The writing was neat--that of an educated person--and the signature flaunting in its bold freedom. The callous ferocity, however, raised a doubt.

"Mebbe he's just puttin' up a bluff," he suggested.

"The enclosures were ears; a pair, perforated by bullets," Bleke replied. "Well, if it's a bluff, I'm calling it. I'll send a good man--my best--if he will go."

"Third time lucky," the other smiled. "Them ears has kinda got me interested."

The Governor's expression remained grave. "Thank you, Jim," he said, but his tone betrayed a lingering reluctance; the very readiness of this reliant young fellow perturbed him, though he had depended upon it. "You don't have to," he continued. "Think it over. This is a dangerous job; the man is reputed to be a marvellous shot."

"King Burdette an' Whitey didn't waste much lead neither," came the reminder, a reference to a previous exploit' which brought a ghost of a smile to the older man's lips.

"Oh, I know you can shoot, boy," he said, "but there's more than gun-play in this. The soundrel is clever and well organized. You'll need to play your cards mighty close, but there will be an ace amongst them which may turn the trick. Can you guess what it is?"

"If yu mean my name ...?"

"Exactly, this is one time when your bad reputation should help us. The others failed because, in some way, it became known they belonged to me, but I doubt if even the devil himself would suspect me of employing `Sudden,' a noted outlaw, wanted for robbery and worse in Texas. It is more than likely that this Satan fellow will welcome you; join his band and gain his confidence."

The cowboy's face bore a bitter expression. "I guess that won't be difficult," he said. "He's the on'y sort that has any use for me."

The Governor nodded soberly; he knew something of the story of this black-haired young man who called himself "James Green," but was more widely known as "Sudden," a name already beginning to rank with those of the great gunmen of the West for daring and dexterity with his weapons.

Though he had no proof, he was convinced that the charge which had put a price on the youth's head was unfounded. "I'm using you, Jim," he said quietly.

The grey-blue eyes were instantly contrite. "I'm right sorry," Sudden said. "Yu saved my self-respect; I ain't goin' to forget that--ever."

"Nonsense, I got me a good man, that's all," Bleke rejoined hastily--he had all the Westerner's aversion to being thanked--adding, with a dry smile, "and I'm doing my best to lose him."

"Shucks, I'll make it," the cowboy said, with a confidence which was in no way boastfulness. "I can't get over them ears; sort o' caper yu might expect from a Greaser, but yu say he's white."

"His skin, yes, but his soul must be as black as the Pit," the Governor replied. "But he has a brain, a madman's, possibly, but the more cunning on that account. Move cautiously, Jim; remember that he'll suspect every stranger of coming from me, so don't show any eagerness to join him. I'm guessing that is where both my fellows slipped up, though I warned Dolver--the second--against it."

Sudden smiled sardonically. "Governor, I never knowed any parents," he said. "I was raised by redskins, an' the first thing they taught me was how to walk in the water. Mister Satan will have to ask me, an' mebbe more than once--before I throw in with him."

Bleke nodded approvingly. "I expect I can leave you to make your own plan of action. All the same, I wish I didn't have to send you, but you're my best bet, and this snake has to be scotched. Also, I'm worried about Dolver."

"Any ranches around there?"

"Several, and, of course, they are losing stock. The biggest appears to be the Double K, owned by Kenneth Keith. The nearest settlement is a place called Dugout."

Sudden stood up. "I guess I got all I want," he said.

The older man smiled and shook his head. "Not quite, I think," he replied, producing a bag which clinked musically as he set it on the table. "Golden bullets, Jim. you'll need them; sometimes they're even more effective than those you feed to your gun."

"I got money," the cowboy objected.

"Glad to know it, but you're working for me. Also, you are about to make war, and that can't be done without a well-provided pocket. That's all I can do except give you a free hand: clean that gang up if you have to shoot every crooked scamp in it." The grey eyes were hard as granite, the firm lips clamped like a vice. "I'm wishing you luck."

"Thank yu, seh," the puncher said, and gripped the proffered palm.

Through the murky pane of the window, Bleke watched him swing lightly to the saddle of the waiting horse and ride slowly down the sordid little street, unconcerned, inscrutable.

"Damned if I can fathom him," he muttered. "For all his record, I'll wager he's white, and nerve--you might think I'd just sent him to the store for baccy. If anyone can outwit and outshoot that fiend ..."

Chapter II

The man on the black horse halted at the crest of the steep bluff which for nearly half an hour he had been laboriously climbing, and sat, rolling a cigarette, taking in the view. It was Nature in the raw. Immediately before him, the ground fell away in a long, rocky slope, sparsely clad with storm-stunted vegetation and terminating at the bottom of a vast basin like the crater of a gigantic extinct volcano. The floor of this enormous hollow was scarred and fissured with what looked to be cracks but which he knew for deep gorges, twisting and mounting to the encircling rim-rock. Forests of black firs, stretches of green park carpeted with tall grass and flowers, small deserts, their yellow sand greyed with sage, provided a bewildering panorama. In the far distance, a range of purple hills.

"Shore is a good country to hide in," the rider soliloquized. "A fella could be real lonesome here, if he was honin' to be."

As if in direct contradiction, the report of a rifle rang out and the bullet whined through the air above his head. Immediately following it came a command:

"That's just a warnin'. H'ist yore han's, come right ahead an' explain yoreself."

The face of the man to whom the words were addressed wore a comical look of chagrin. "Just 'cause yu ain't glimpsed a soul for twenty-four hours yu act like yu was never goin' to again," he told himself. "Why didn't yu toot a horn, light a fire, or somethin'--not but what standin' there on the skyline was just as good." A querulous call interrupted his self condemnation. "Gettin' impatient, huh? Well, seein' yu got the drop ..."

Dissipating wisps of smoke some hundreds of yards below showed whence the shot had come, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he began the descent of the slope. He was angry, not only with himself for his lack of ordinary caution, but with the other man. That bullet was entirely superfluous. Missing him by little, had he moved at the moment he might have got in the path of it.

"I said for yu to put yore paws up," came a rough reminder.

"Shore yu did, but my hoss needs 'em--he ain't no catamount," the other retorted, as he picked a way down the decline. "Allasame, I'd as lief break my neck as be shot."

Having complied with the command he leaned back in the saddle, guiding the animal with his knees towards the boulder behind which the ambusher was waiting. He was within a few yards of it when the black slithered on a strip of shale and almost fell. The violent lurch appeared to nearly unseat the rider, who only saved himself by a quick snatch at the saddle-horn. When his hands went up again they did not go far and each held a six-shooter. The face of the fellow who emerged from his retreat to see what had caused the clatter was ludicrous with surprised disgust. It was not an attractive face, the eyes were set too close, and the uncared-for beard failed to conceal a loose-lipped mouth garnished with tobacco-stained teeth in which there were gaps. His rifle was in the crook of his arm, a fact which drew a hard smile from the man on the black.

"Thought yu had a shore thing, huh?" he said. "Drop that gun, pronto, an' then unbuckle yore belt an' step away from it. Any funny business an' yu'll be rappin' at the door o' hell just as soon as it takes yu to get there." When the order had been obeyed, he sheathed one of his guns and pointed hisremarks with the other. "One ca'tridge is all I need to kill a coyote, an' there's six in this li'l persuader. What's the idea, holdin' up an unoffendin' traveller?"

"Wanted to know suthin' about yu, that's all," the other said sullenly. "There's queer doin's around here."

"yo're tellin' me," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "Yu don't chance to be a sheriff, marshal, or any vermin o' that kind, do you?"

"I'm Steve Lagley, foreman o' the Double K, an' if yo're aimin' to stay in these parts it won't pay yu to be at outs with me," was the snarling reply. "Speakin' o' names, who might yu be?"

"There's a whole jag o' folk I might be, from the President o' the United States down, or up, accordin' to yore political views," the stranger retorted. "If it's any o' yore damn business, I'm James Green, a puncher from Texas."

"Travellin' for yore health, I reckon," Lagley said, with a heavy sneer.

"yu reckon good--been to school, mebbe. Yeah, the doc said my nerves was all shot up--any quick noise or movement sets 'em jangling an' I have to grip my fists to control 'em. Edgin' nearer that belt is on'y takin' yu into temptation; yu'd never make it, hombre, an' I hate diggin', 'specially without a spade."

The badgered man, well aware that he was entirely at the mercy of this sardonic person who had so neatly turned the table upon him, expressed his feeling with more force than elegance. His audience listened with an expression of shocked reproof.

"That settles it--couldn't 'a' been a Sunday school," Sudden reflected aloud. He slipped a forefinger through the trigger-guard and revolved the weapon rapidly--the "road-agent's roll." Lagley gazed with fascinated eyes, acutely conscious that the circling muzzle did not deviate in the least, and that at any moment, either by accident or design, hot lead might be ventilating his vital parts. The drawling voice went on, "Yu fired at me, an' missed."

"I meant to miss."

"That's yore tale; I ain't believin' it."

"I could 'a' downed yu any time on the slope."

"I might 'a' done the same any time in the last ten minutes, so we break even on that." The speaker pondered a while, and then, "I'm huntin' a job an' here's one handed to me. All I gotta do is wipe yu out, dump yore remainders in a hole, wait a coupla days till they've done lookin' for yu, an' offer myself to the Double K. Mebbe they'd make me foreman--they don't seem hard to please. Why, it's easy--like money from home."

Though he had courage, Lagley became anxious. The cold eyes, imperturbable voice, and the twirling gun, the barrel of which seemed to wink in the sunlight each time it slanted down upon him, had a mesmeric effect. Easy? He knew it; there were scores of spots at hand where his body would remain--if prowling beasts permitted--until it resolved again into the dust from which it sprang. He looked at his weapons, lying only a few feet distant, and back again at the winking warning; he hadn't a chance.

"See here, stranger, yu don't look the kind to kill a fella in cold blood *" he began, and as he saw the dawn of a satirical grin on the other's lips, added, "I'm sayin' agin I didn't try to get yu--just wanted to ask a question or two, an' played it safe. Now, I'll make a dicker with yu: forget about this, show up at the Double K to-morrow, an' yu shall have that job yu were speakin' of. What yu say?"

"I'll take yu up on that--mebbe," Sudden replied, after a brief consideration.

"Right," Lagley said, with obvious relief. "Let's be goin'."

He had taken but one step when he noticed that the rotating gun had stopped, with the muzzle pointing towards him.

"Just a minute," came the correction. "I'll be goin', yu'll follow--presently."

The foreman's face grew dark with anger. "Yu don't trust me?" he snapped.

"Shore I do," Sudden answered. "Ain't I takin' yore word about that job? But I'm playin' safe, like yu did. Yu won't have a lot to walk."

He got down, still contriving to keep the other covered, scooped up the rifle and belt, hung them over the horn of the owner's saddle, and mounted again.

"How far to Dugout?" he enquired.

"Six mile--near enough," was the surly reply. "Yu can save a couple of 'em by cuttin' through Dead Tree Gulch, which'll be on yore right when yu get outa the pines."

"I'm obliged," Sudden said. "Yu'll find yore hoss an' trimmin's a piece along. I'll be seem' yu."

He moved away, by no means oblivious to the ugly scowl which followed him. When he had covered about half a mile, he tied the led horse to a branch, and, circling round from a point where the trail crossed a patch of gravel, returned to hide himself in the undergrowth. Only a few yards separated hint' from the spot where Lagley's pony stood, swishing its tail in conflict with the flies.

"Just the rottenest luck things had to break the way they did," he muttered. "O' course he'll be mad, but I gotta find out whether he's mean as well; he shore 'pears to be, but that ain't nothin' to go on--the good in lots o' men is limited to their looks. Here he comes; keep still, yu black rascal." This to his horse, which instantly froze into an ebony statue.

Moving with the clipped, clumsy step of one who spends most of his time in a saddle, Lagley came stumbling along the trail. The range-rider's boots, with their high heels, are not fashioned for walking, and the unwonted effort had not im- proved the foreman's already-frayed temper. His lips dripped profanity.

"He certainly can cuss," the watcher murmured. "Bet m'self a dollar he lams the hoss. Damnation, I'd ruther 'a' lost."

For Lagley's first act on reaching his pony was to kick it in the ribs, and when the animal squealed and tried to bite him, he snatched his quirt from the saddle and lashed it unmercifully.

"That'll larn yu to run out on me," he gasped, surveying the now cowed and trembling beast with savage satisfaction. "An' now I'll deal with the smarty what fetched yu here." He buckled on his belt, examined both pistol and rifle, and finding they had not been unloaded, laughed grimly. "Ain't so smart, after all," he commented. "If he takes the trail I told him he'll have found out that Dead Tree is a blind canyon an' be comin' back 'bout the time I arrive. `I'll be seeing' yu,' he sez. He won't, but he'll be hearin' from me."

The threatened man watched him ride away and his expression was not pretty. His ruse had been more than justified, and he never could forgive one who maltreated horses.

"If it warn't so early in the game, fella, yu an' me would be settlin' our difference right now," he told himself. "Anyways, I've shorely got yore measure."

He too mounted, but he did not follow the other. Instead, he turned abruptly to the right, picking a path for himself through thorny thickets, along shallow arroyos and across little savannahs where his mount waded belly-deep in lush grass. Presently, as he had hoped, he emerged on some sort of a road, deeply rutted by the heavy wheels of freight-wagons and scored with innumerable hoofprints. Rounding a sharp bend, he almost cannoned into a horseman travelling in the opposite direction. Both backed a little, and sat, each study-ing the other. Sudden noted the wide mouth and nose with a tendency to turn up which were the salient features of a plain but not unpleasing face. The newcomer was the first to speak:

"The world is shore a small place," he offered.

"I'm right distressed," Sudden answered, "but not bein' cock-eyed I can't see round corners."

"Me too," the other said. "Nature does play favourites, don't she? The fella with the squint has all the luck." He grinned expansively. "Yu don't happen to be lost, do yu?"

"I am unless this is the right way to the thrivin' an' populous city o' Dugout."

"Shore is. Might yu be plannin' to spend the night there?"

"Yeah, if I can find a ho-tel to take me in."

The stranger chortled. "They'll all do that, but I'd try Black Sam's--he's liable to take yu in less'n the others; barrin' his hide, he's white, an' that wife o' his can certainly cook. Gosh! ain't it hot?"

He removed his hat and fanned himself, watching slyly. Sudden stared in amazement, for though he could not be much over twenty, his hair was grey-white, that of an old man.

"I'm obliged to yu--Frosty," Sudden said.

It was the other's turn for surprise. "How in hell did yu know that?" he asked.

"I didn't, but yore ha'r ..."

The youngster laughed. "Well, yu guess pretty good. I s'pose I'll have to tell yu 'bout that. Injuns done it, raided our cabin way back an' scalped my parents before my eyes. Then a brave grabs my golden locks an' flourishes his knife, but when they turns white in his hand--which they does from fright, yu understand--he yells an' drops everythin', figurin' I'm a sort o' spirit. I snatches the weapon an' drives it into his heart. I'm five years old at the time."

"An' I expect they were the on'y parents yu ever had," Sudden said solemnly.

The white-head grinned with delight and shoved out a paw. "Stranger, I like yu more every minute," he cried. "If yu aim to infest these parts a-tall, I'm hopin' we'll be friends."

"That goes for me, too," Sudden rejoined, as their hands met. "I reckon the Double K ain't so fur away." He had already noted the brand on the other's pony.

"On'y ten mile. Ask for Rud Homer--that's me--though Frosty will do just as well."

"My name is Jim, but I add Green to it when Igo a'visitin'. Black Sam's, I think yu said?"

"Yeah," Frosty replied, and looked uncomfortable. "See here, I was stringin' yu; that's the on'y ho-tel--there ain't no more. Dugout is rightly named, a mud-hole, nothin' else. I'm sorry."

"Forget it," Sudden grinned. "Losin' yore parents thataway--"

But Frosty threw up his hands, spurred his pony, and vanished round the bend in a whirl of dust. The rider of the black went on. He had made an enemy, but that was far too common an occurrence in his turbulent life to give him any concern; he had also, he believed, made a friend, and this was a source of satisfaction.

"Lagley is bad medicine," he mused. "I'll have trouble there. As for Frosty, I'll make him wish them parents had been scalped before he was born." He laughed as he recalled the gay, impudent face of the youth who had tried to foist that amazing fabrication upon him. "I'll bet he keeps his outfit guessin'." A new thought came. "Wonder what either of em would 'a' said if I'd asked the way to Hell City?"

Chapter III

Emerging from the canopied shadow of a pine forest, Sudden saw an open stretch of plain and in the midst of it, buildings, dotted about on either side of the wagon-road to form some sort of a street. They were primitive in character, constructed of hewn timber, 'dobe, and mere earth-roofed shacks. He saw no one, but as he splashed through a little creek and rode into the place, he had a feeling that he was watched.

He passed a store, a smithy, and then found what he was seeking. It was the largest of the buildings, two-storied, and formed of stout logs, with a raised and roofed verandah in front which was reached by steps. A board over the entrance bore the words, "Black Sam's Saloon." A pony with the Double K brand was hitched outside. Sudden dismounted and entered.

After the glare of the sun, he found the comparative darkness refreshing. It was a typical Western saloon. A long bar, with shelves of shining bottles, extended almost across the back, and on the boarded, sanded space in front were tables and stools. Hanging kerosene lamps provided light and there were mirrors and pictures of a crude description on the walls. The place was empty save for a big negro, whose face expanded in a broad grin at the sight of a customer.

"Howdy, sah, I suah am pleased to welcome yo' to Dugout," he boomed.

The traveller returned the smile and put down a dollar. "Whisky," he said. "Good whisky."

"Yo' don' git nuthin' else heah, sah," the darkie replied.

"Good licker, grub, beds, an' civil'ty, dat's in.:, Black Sam."

Sudden sampled his drink and found that it was indeed superior to the rotgut so frequently retailed in the West. "I heard as much from Rud Homer," he said, his keen eyes on the other.

Black Sam's grin was again in evidence. "Ah, dat Frosty," he replied. "For onct he tell de trufe."

"Well, I'm lookin' for all them things yu mentioned, an' one other--a corral."

"Behin' de house, sah. I tak yo hoss--"

"I'm thankin' yu, but mebbe yore wife wouldn't feel equal to cookin' me a meal if she was a widow," Sudden said whimsically. "I can find it."

He returned presently bearing his saddle, rifle and blanket, which, preceded by the host, he carried up to his room. He had no more than put the things down when the sound of a shot from below sent both of them racing downstairs again. They found four men lined up at the bar, one with a smoking pistol in his hand. He greeted the negro with a scowl.

"What's the idea, you black scum, keepin' us waitin'?" he growled. "I've a mind to blow you apart."

Black Sam quivered, but whether with fear or rage, Sudden could not determine. He mumbled something about showing the newcomer his room, and produced a bottle and glasses. The puncher sat down and occupied himself with the construction of a cigarette, while covertly observing his company. The type was common enough: swaggering, hard-faced ruffians, driven by their own misdeeds to dwell in a land where the law was not, and ready to slit a throat for a few dollars. Their garb was that of the country, a coarse flannel shirt, homespun pants tucked into the tops of high boots, slouched hat, and a belt from which protruded the butt of a heavy revolver. On the breast of each, fashioned from leatherstained blood-red, was a small presentment of a devil, complete with horns and tail. A ghost of a smile passed over Sudden's lips when he saw it.

"Play-actin'," he murmured scornfully.

The man who had bullied the saloon-keeper, apparently their leader, was a particularly repulsive specimen. Snaky black hair framed a bloated face, the left side deeply seamed from chin to brow by a knife-wound, which, in healing, had drawn his mouth awry. The others addressed him as "Scar."

They filled their glasses, drank and filled again, lolling on the bar, and sending contemptuous glances in his direction. He noticed that they did not offer to pay.

"Well, nigger, what's the news?" Scar asked.

"Ain't no news, sah. Town's pow'ful quiet."

The man grinned at his companions. "Want's livenin' up, huh? We shore oughta come in off'ener, boys."

"Yo're whistlin', Scar," one agreed. "Sam here'd be glad to entertain us, eh?"

He shot the question at the saloon-keeper and got the stammered reply, "Allus pleased to see trade, sah."

This produced a burst of laughter, and the fellow who had put the query slapped Scar on the back, and cried, "Hark to him. Trade ! He calls us trade. We must have one on that. No, it's my turn not to pay."

He grabbed the bottle and slopped liquor into the glasses, careless whether he spilled it. They drank, and the leader turned again to Black Sam.

"So you got nothin' to tell us? Well, I ain't agreein'. Who's this stranger stayin' here an' what's he after?"

The four bullies had their eyes on the victim, enjoying his obvious embarrassment. Then a shot rang out and Scar clapped a hand to the back of his neck and spun round.

"What th' hell?" he shouted.

The man about whom he was enquiring had tilted his chair against the wall and was sitting, long legs dangling, a mocking smile on his lips. From the gun levelled at his hip the smoke curled lazily upward.

"There was a yellow-jacket on yore neck," he explained. "I don't like 'em m'self--they got red-hot tails. Sufferin' cats, there's a spider, too." Without any movement the gun spoke again and the amazed spectators saw a smear of red and bits of limbs where the bullet embedded itself in the wall. "Say, mister," the marksman called to his landlord, "yore shebang seems pretty well fixed for vermin."

He was looking at the four as he spoke, but they chose not to notice the fact. The other three had not seen the yellow-jacket on their companion, but a man who, seated and without apparent aim, could smash spiders at ten paces, was not to be doubted--by sane people. Scar contented himself with a frown.

"That was a fool trick, stranger," he said. "You might 'a' killed me."

"Shore I might, if I'd wanted to," Sudden replied. "Did I hear yu bein' curious 'bout me?"

"Naw, I ain't interested in you none whatever," the bully lied.

"I'm obliged to yu," came the instant retort.

Scar addressed his next remark to the saloon-keeper, who had watched the scene with bulging eyes. "Where's the rider that Double K pony outside?"

Before the question could be answered, the door at the end of the bar opened and a girl appeared. At the sight of the company she hesitated a mere moment, and then, with a lift of her head, came forward.

"I must be going now, Sam," she said. "Daddy Ken will he worrying--you know how he is."

"Suah do, Miss Joan," he replied. "De Kunnel am debestest worrier in de worl' bout yo'self. I'se mighty grateful to yo' for comin' to see Mandy."

"Nonsense, her cake alone is worth riding ten miles for," she smiled, and stepped towards the exit.

She wanted to get away. Though she did not know the men, she recognized the badge, and was uneasy. They had been silent since her entrance, but their bold eyes told their admiration plain--too plainly, even for her unsophisticated mind.

There was every excuse, for she was indeed good to gaze upon. Not yet twenty, of medium height, her slim, straight body, with its ease of movement, had the lissom grace of a fawn. Her neat shirt-waist, riding-skirt, and spurred boots suited her youthful figure admirably, while, from beneath the wide-hrimmed felt hat, peeped curls of pale gold. Deep blue eyes, a short nose, and well-shaped mouth completed a picture most men would find more than attractive. The scar-faced rogue was no exception, and she had only taken one pace when he stepped in front of her.

"Wait a minute," he growled, and stood, hands on hips, surveying her from head to foot with bloodshot, leering eyes. "So yo're Ken Keith's gal, huh? I've heard o' you."

Though her heart was beating faster than usual, her cold look and steady voice did not betray the fact.

"Then you have the advantage of me, sir," she replied.

"Mebbe, but we can put that right. My name's Roden, an' if I'd knowed there was anythin' like you to be found in this one-eyed burg, I'd 'a' spent more time in it. C'mon, le's have a drink an' git acquainted."

The girl's cheeks flushed, but she kept her temper. "I have no desire to know you," she said. "Kindly allow me to pass." He did not move, and to her dismay, she saw his companions . close in behind him. "If any of our riders were here they would give you a lesson in manners." she added.

"But as they ain't, yo're havin' one instead," he responded. "To start with, yo're goin' to give me a li'l kiss."

For the first time fear showed in her eyes as she realized that the brute meant what he said. Inflamed by liquor and the passion her beauty had aroused in him, he leant towards her, a bestial grin on his contorted lips. Desperately she sent an appealing look to Black Sam, but the negro was palsied by terror; he knew that he would be shot without hesitation if he interfered. Scar's claw-like fingers were about to close on the shrinking girl's shoulders when a quiet voice intervened:

"I--just--wouldn't," it drawled. "Men is bigger'n spiders, an' I could lay out the four o' yu in as many seconds. Trouble is, skunks stink just as bad when they're dead."

The stranger, whose presence they had forgotten, was still sitting in his tilted chair, a gun levelled over his knees. Scar, who had an unpleasant conviction that it was aimed at himself, drew back his hands, whereupon the interrupter remarked meaningly:

"Just in time, hombre. Any other move an' yu'd 'a' been missin' from our midst a whole lot."

"What you hornin' in for?" Scar snarled. "It's none o' yore business."

"Shore it's none o' my business--it's a pleasure," Sudden replied, and to the girl, "Go ahead, ma'am; if anyone gets in yore way yu'll on'y have to step over him."

The cutting edge on the last three words procured a clear path for her, and with a smile of thanks to her champion, she walked to the door. Black Sam went with her, mumbling excuses. When he returned, the stranger's weapon was still dominating the situation. Scar had a bright idea; the girl could not have got far away.

"Now the bird has flown I s'pose we can git goin'?" he asked.

The black-haired man in the chair chuckled. "yu must figure i'm dumb," he said. "Besides, yu ain't settled for yore liquor."

"Pay--Black--Sam?" Scar gasped. "Well, I'm--"

"It go on de slate, sah," the saloon-keeper said anxiously. "This is one time it don't do no such thing," Sudden told him. "Four rounds at twenty-five a throw is four dollars. Ante up."

"Twenty-five? Whisky is fifteen," one protested. "This is good stuff--twenty-five goes for yu."

"We ain't got a cent anyways--Sam'll have to trust us, as usual," Scar contributed.

"Suah, sah--" the negro began.

"Like hell he will--not," Sudden said brusquely. "Yu can hock yore hardware."

This astounding proposition hit them like a blow. "Four guns for four measly dollars?" a cross-eyed fellow named "Squint" exploded. "You got a nerve."

"I got a gun, too," the puncher reminded. "An' it ain't a matter o' four dollars neither; it'll cost yu ten apiece--I'm bettin' there's some back payments. Get busy, Sam."

Little as he liked the task of depriving his customers of their weapons, the saloon-keeper obeyed; he was beginning to realize that this saturnine guest was not to be argued with. Sullenly the victims submitted, and then their leader offered a comment:

"Fella with the drop can allus call the tune," he sneered. "If you didn't have--"

The front legs of the lounger's seat thudded on the floor. In three seconds he was at the bar, handing over his own guns. His smooth-shaven, tanned face was hard, his eyes threatening.

"Take care o' those, Sam, an' don't interfere," he ordered. "I can handle these coyotes my own self." He faced round. "Well, got any ideas?" he asked.

For a moment it seemed they had not; the confident audacity of the challenger had a paralysing effect; they could not credit that, facing odds of four to one, he had willingly placed himself at a disadvantage. Scar was the first to recover. His eyes gleamed.

"Fancyin' yoreself, huh?" he said. "C'mon, boys, we'll soon trim this young cock's comb for him."

With muttered oaths, they began to move towards the man leaning indolently against the bar. He did not wait for them. One swift stride brought him to the nearest, his right fist shot out with all the momentum of the movement behind it. to land with a dull thud on the fellow's jaw. As though kicked by a mule, he tottered on his heels for an instant and crashed senseless.

"Tally one," the cowboy called, and stepped lightly to the middle of the room, where they would be unable to hem him in. "On with the dance, hombres, or do I have to fetch yu one at a time?"

The jeer brought about the result he desired--they made a concerted charge, rushing blindly forward, only to receive another lesson. Jumping back, Sudden overturned a table in their path, which not only checked but split up the attack. Scar and Squint elected to pass the obstacle on one side; the third man took the other, to his own undoing, for Sudden--expecting just such a move--sprang in, drove a left to the face, and, as the recipient's head snapped back, followed up with a perfect punch on the solar plexus. Under that venomous blow the man collapsed like a hinge and rolled in agony on the ground, gasping for breath.

"Tally two," the cowboy chanted grimly.

This further depletion of their force produced a certain hesitancy on the part of the attackers, and then Squint evolved what he regarded as an inspiration. Stooping behind his comrade's back, he snatched up and hurled one of theheavy stools. Sudden saw it coming, ducked, and the missile struck the log wall and became kindling-wood. That was a game two could play at, however, and Sudden's stool came so swiftly that Squint, unable to dodge, was rapped sharply on the forehead by one of the whirling legs, and ceased to take any further interest in the proceedings.

"Tally three," Sudden grinned. "Sorta evens things up, huh? Come an' get yores, crooked face."

Staggered as he was by this speedy removal of his supporters, Scar did not refuse the invitation. So far the stranger had sprung the surprises; now it was his turn. But he advanced slowly, and sideways, stepping on the balls of his feet in case retreat became necessary. Sudden watched him edging closer, wondering what the game was. A cry from Black Sam told him.

"Min' de knife, sah."

So that was it? The curious crab-like approach had enabled the ruffian to keep his right hand out of sight, so concealing the six-inch blade gripped in it.

The warning came only just in time, for at the very moment it was uttered, Scar flung himself forward and struck. A swift snatch and Sudden caught the descending wrist with his left hand, thrusting it upwards, while his right fist impacted on the other's chin with the force of a battering-ram. The knife sang on the boards, the owner's head swayed on his shoulders, and another raking right sent him down in an untidy heap. The negro, his eyes like saucers, came from behind the bar to survey the battlefield.

"Sam, a little more an' I'd 'a' lost my temper," the victor confessed.

"My lan', sah, I done think yo' kill 'em all," Sam said, in an awed tone.

"Shucks, they ain't hurt--much," Sudden replied, returning to his belt the guns the saloon-keeper had brought him. "They're comin' round a'ready, but I figure they've had enough. Well, seein' I made the mess, I s'pose I gotta clear it up."

The prostrate forms on the floor were showing signs of life, and the man whose internal economy had been so rudely assailed had already climbed slowly to an upright position. He had no more than achieved this when he felt himself seized by collar and belt, propelled to the door, and hurled down the steps into the street, the soft sand of which he ploughed with his face, a feat which evoked ironical cheers from a group of loungers who witnessed it.

The applause brought others, popping out of their holes like rabbits, to learn what was happening. They arrived in time to see a second form catapulted from the saloon entrance.

"Black Sam has hired a bouncer, an' boy, does he know his job?" one of them exclaimed admiringly.

A third figure thudded into the sand, then a fourth, and when this last scrambled to his feet and shook a furious fist, he was recognized and the enjoyment of the onlookers gave way to an expression of unease.

"Scar Roden," the blacksmith, Naylor, muttered. "That fella can't know what he's takin' on. This'll mean trouble for Dugout."

The puncher had appeared, standing in the doorway, his thumbs hooked in his belt. The saloon-keeper was hovering fearfully in the background. Sudden had a word to say:

"I'm stayin' in this neck o' the woods a piece an' I'm givin' notice that if anythin' unpleasant happens to Sam here, I'll send yu four misfits to hell so fast yu'll singe on the way. Now, beat it."

He watched until they disappeared among the low hills which masked the western approach to the town, and then turned to his host."I reckon I've lost yu four customers," he said, but his grin was anything but repentant.

"Yo' done save me money, sah," Sam replied. "Dem Imps neber pay nobody."

Men were heading for the saloon, eager for information, and Sudden slipped away to his room, leaving the negro to make what explanations he chose.

Chapter IV

His apartment was not luxurious, for it contained only a pallet-bed, a chair, a bucket of water, soap and towel, but it was spotless. He smiled as he remembered Frosty's attempt to mislead him.

"An' me a stranger," he said reprovingly, though it was the very thing he would have done himself. "Allasame, I'll gamble he's white, an' somethin' is sayin' mighty loud that I'll need friends."

His window overlooked the corral and he could see his horse, Nigger, placidly nibbling the grass. He raised the sill and looked down; the ground was but a dozen feet below--it would be easy to leave that way if necessary. So far, save for Lagley, things had gone well. The men he had punished belonged to the mysterious "Satan" he had come to find and deal with, and he had deliberately made the most of the opportunity the girl's advent offered.

"If he's the sort I figure, he'll wanta see the man who, single-handed, beat up four of his toughs," he reflected aloud. "An' it's possible Keith might be grateful, which'll level up for Lagley." His mind reverted to material needs. "Fightin' must make a fella peckish; I could eat a hoss--a'most."

He went downstairs to find a meal waiting for him in the parlour behind the bar, and a shining-faced, buxom negress who bobbed a curtsey when he entered.

"Suah hope it ain't spoiled, sah," she said. "Done ask dat man o' mine to tell yo' but he don' think o' nothin' but de ol' bar."

"It was my fault, ma'am," Sudden smiled. "I was just dreamin'. My! that steak looks good."

She waited while he ate a mouthful, and departed with his praises ringing in her ears. The puncher had made another friend, unmeaningly, for the meal was perfect. Having despatched it, he went into the bar. Business was booming, and evidently the proprietor had been talking, for the afternoon's fracas appeared to be the sole topic of conversation. The smith, a big fellow, with a rugged but not unpleasing face, stepped at once to the cowboy.

"Mister, my name's Naylor, an' I'd like to shake with you," he said. "The way you played with them sots was good to see."

They shook hands, Sudden mentioned his name, and was, in turn, presented to Jansen, the store-keeper, Polter, who ran an eating-house, and a dried-up, rather silent little man called Birt, who owned a freight-wagon, and was the town's link with the outside world.

"It was time someone showed 'em they don't own the place," the store-keeper supplemented. "Few weeks ago, Roden comes in, selects some goods, an' starts to walk out. When I remind him he ain't paid he looks ugly, an' sez, `Ain't my credit good?' I tells him I don't give none. `Y o're bebeginnin' to-day,' he replies, an' backs out with his gun on me. Well, life's worth more'n ten dollars."

"They got a lesson this arternoon, but there'll be doin's when the news of it gits to Hell City," Polter opined.

Sudden asked a question; it was the smith who answered:

"It's the stronghold of the worst band of rustlers an' road-agents in Arizona, the last refuge o' the hunted outlaw. The blacker a man's record is, the warmer his welcome. Satan, their leader calls hisself, an' it ain't no boast. Him an' his Imps has got this country buffaloed. That was four of 'em you manhandled."

"Yu think they'll talk?" the puncher asked. "Me, I'd be dumb as a clam."

"Satan fin' out, sah," Sam said dolefully. "He hear eberyt'ing--he have de magic."

Sudden laughed and slapped a gold piece on the bar. "That's his magic, ol'-timer," he replied. "The most powerful in the world, save this." He drew a cartridge from his belt and stood it beside the coin. "Lead lets the life out'n a man an' all the gold in creation won't put it back. If he does hear, I guess yu needn't to worry--he won't have any sympathy for four men who let one send 'em packin'."

"Somethin' in that," Jansen admitted. "By all accounts, they'll be lucky to git off with a tongue-lashin'."

"What's he like?"

"Young--'bout yore age, I'd say--middlin' size, an' allus wears a mask, even amongst his own men," was the reply. "He's reputed to ride an' shoot like Old Nick hisself."

"An' that's all yu know?"

The freighter spoke for the first time. "Not quite," he said. "We know he don't like bein' discussed." He looked sardonically at the stranger. "Lem Roberts opened his mouth pretty wide a month back an' two days later we found him hanging from a tree on the trail-side with one o' them little red devils pinned to his vest."

This ended the subject. Sudden replaced his cartridge, and pointed to the gold coin. "Sam, I believe yo're a bit of a wizard yore own self," he smiled. "Just pass a hand over that an' see if yu can turn it into liquor; I'm settin' 'em up for the company."

This generous gesture sealed the cowboy's popularity and did much to dispel the suspicion with which a frontier community was wont to receive a stranger. Even Black Sam forgot his fears for the future and regained his customary broad smile. It was not until later, when the saloon was closed,that his face grew gloomy again. Sudden went straight to the point:

"Yu fellas are holdin' out on me," he said. "Who is this jasper yu all 'pear to be so scared of?"

The negro shook his head. "I dunno, sah--nobody dunno, but it's claimed he's Kunnel Keith's son, young Massa Jeff." * Sudden's eyebrows rose. "Keith o' the Double K?" he cried. "How come?"

"Keith lose his wife when de chile is born," Sam explained. "I don' reckon he eber forgive de boy for dat--he was mighty 'tached to her. It mak' him hard like de flint, an' young Jeff he grow up de same, bot' proud an' obst'nate as de mule. It was when de boy comes back from college dat de big trouble begins, mebbe four-five years back. 'Stead o' bein' de owner's son, Jeff has to work as one o' de outfit, an' for de same pay. Well, he don' kick, but I 'spect he found it middlin' dull aroun' heah after de East, an' he spends a lot o' time at Red Rock, thirty mile no'th. De tales come o' drinkin', high play, an' den a man is hurt at de card-table. Foh his own name, de Kunnel gits him out'n de mess, but done tells him he neber wants to see his face agin. `Yo' shan't,' Jeff sez, `but dat don' mean I'm leavin' de country like a whipped houn' at yore biddin'."

"Which might explain the mask, huh?"

"Suah looks dataway, sah. We don' heah no news o' Jeff for a good whiles an' den a herd o' Double K steers is stole; one o' de rustlers has his face hid by a red bandanner. Next, word comes dat folk is livin' in de ol' Injun dwellin's an' dat's de start o' Hell City."

"An' what d'yu think yoreself, Sam?"

"I'se feared it's true, sah," was the reluctant reply. "Satan visit Dugout onct, an' he look like Jeff; same size, voice, dress, an' use his favourite queer cuss-word, `By Christmas.' "

For some moments Sudden was silent, pondering over the singular story, and then he put a question.

"She de orphan chile of an ol' friend--de Kunnel took charge of her 'bout ten year back," Sam told him. "I guess he hoped she an' Jeff'd tie up an' dat was suthin' else he had agin de boy."

"She's pretty enough to please most men," the puncher said.

"A mighty sweet gal," the saloon-keeper agreed, "an' if de 01' Man hadn't showed his han' so plain ..."

Sudden nodded. "Ever been to this Heil City?" he asked.

"Lordy, no sah," Sam said. "I don' want no truck with dal outlaw trash. 'Sides, a fella snoopin' roun' dere is li'ble to catch a bullet."

The obvious warning had no effect. "I must have a look at it," Sudden smiled. "I'm curious, an' I might wanta join up with Mister Satan, after all."

He left his host scratching his woolly poll in perplexity over this last disturbing proposition.

Sudden had just finished his morning meal in the parlour when he heard a loud and cheerful voice in the bar.

"'Lo, Sam, yu got a cow-person stayin' here--tall fella with hair as black as yore hide--who looks like a rustler an' probably is one?"

"Mistah Green, sah," the saloon-keeper began.

"That's the name," chimed in the cheerful one. "Yu go tell the gent that the sheriff o' Dugout needs him right away."

"How long dis town own a sher'ff?" Sam queried. "'Bout ten minutes--I just bin app'inted a-purpose, an'see, if he tries to leave by the back window, smoke him up."

"De debbil! What he wanted foh, Frosty?"

"Just murder, arson, robbery with violence, cheatin' at cyards, desertin' his wife an' kids, an'--"

"Consortin' with a low character by the name o' Rud Homer," put in a quiet voice from the doorway leading to the rear of the premises. "Howdy."

Frosty stared at him open-mouthed. "Musta bin romancin' --yu ain't marked," he muttered, and then, "Told Naylor just now that I'd come in to git yu an' he advised me to fetch the rest o' the outfit. Said yu fought four o' Satan's toughs yestiddy an' threw 'em out on their ears."

"He was stringin' yu," Sudden said, and added, "I hope there's somethin' yu do better than lyin'."

"Shore there is," Frosty said eagerly. "Set 'em up, ol'timer." He dived into a pocket and a look of dismay followed the action. "Hell, I won't have a nickel till pay-day."

"Yu can hock yore gun," Sudden suggested, with a sly wink at the man behind the bar. "That's the rule, ain't it, Sam?"

"Suah is, gents," was the reply.

Frosty turned belligerently upon him. "An' who in blazes is goin' to fall for that in this country?" he asked.

"Scar an' three of his friends fell for it," Sudden said. "Fell considerable hard, too."

Light came to the Double K rider. 'Then Naylor told the truth--yu did mix it with them scallawags?"

"There was a li'l argument," Sudden admitted. "They left in a hunry an' forgot their shootin'-irons."

Frosty grinned and slammed his gun down. "Trot out the pain-killer, Sam," he said. "The new rule goes."

The saloon-keeper pushed the weapon back. "Not foh mah fren's, sah," he corrected. "Dey's on de house."

"Well sheriff," Sudden began.

-Aw, forget it," the other smiled. "Dugout's got no use for one anyways, she's dead, an' on'y needs an undertaker." Later, as they rode in the direction of the Double K ranch, Sudden said bluntly, "What's Keith want with me?"

"Hell, yu ain't gotta have four eyes to see that," came the reply. "Didn't yu git his gal out'n a jam? Any o' the boys would 'a' given a month's pay for the chance. Yu must be one o' those lucky guys."

"Shore, lucky don't begin to tell about me," Sudden retorted, with such emphatic bitterness that his companion stared. "Shucks, I don't need any thanks; I've a mind to go back."

"Then I'll have to bring the outfit," Frosty said."When the 01' Man wants a thing it has gotta be got, come hell or high water. Are yu goin' to make me fall down on my job?"

The puncher's respect for his new friend's shrewdness increased; this was an argument to which there was only one reply.

"Yu win," he said, and presently, "They were talkin' in the bar last night 'bout Hell City; ever seen it?"

"From the outside on'y, an' that's a-plenty."

"Is the boss of it young Keith?"

The Double K cowboy shrugged. "Common talk sez so, an' all the signs read that way," he replied. "Allasame, I dunno. Time he left here, Jeff warn't bad, just wild an' headstrong. When yu ride a colt too hard yu break its spirit or turn it into an outlaw. The Colonel didn't savvy what he was doin'. He's a good rancher, an' square, but, if he gits to Paradise--which is some doubtful--I'll bet he'll want to run it."

"Stiff-necked, huh?"

"Brother, yu said it; I don't reckon that fella ever does see his own feet. He wants Jeff an' Miss Joan to make a match,an' a blind man could tell they's headin' that way, but he gives the boy orders, puttin' him on the prod immediate. If he'd waited, but there, Ken Keith never could wait, an' I'll wager he's cussin' me out right now because I can't ride twenty mile in as many minutes."

Chapter V

The Double K range occupied an expansive tract of open country towards the end of the big basin and about ten miles south of Dugout. The ranch-house faced a long, grassy incline, and was protected from the sun by lofty pines. It was a wide, one-storied building of trimmed timber, with a roofed verandah along the whole front, and chimneys of stone. The bunkhouse, smithy, storage-barns and corrals were about a hundred yards distant. As the riders aproached, they could see a tall figure striding up and down le verandah.

"Like I said, callin' me everythin' he can think of," Frosty grinned, "an' lemme tell yu, he knows some words. Allasame, if he offers yu a job I hope yu'll take it; I'd admire to have yu here."

"I thought yu were tryin' to scare me away." Sudden smiled.

His companion shot a sly glance at him. "I'd say yu don't scare easy. Don't git any wrong ideas 'bout the 01' Man; he's all wool, an' we're proud of him; also, the pay an' the grub is good."

"The foreman--is he good, too?"

Frosty frowned a little. "Sam's mouth opens too easy."

"He never named him," Sudden said. "I like to know somethin' of the man I take orders from."

"Him an' me don't exactly hit it, but that ain't to say he an't cover his job," Frosty said bluntly.

In a few moments they reached the ranch-house and dismounted. Colonel Keith was on the far side of fifty, but his erect, spare frame showed no sign of age. He had a large, high-bridged nose, keen black eyes set beneath bushy eyebrows, thin, carefully shaven lips, and he wore his grey hair somewhat long. A suit of fine white linen gave him the appearance of a prosperous planter rather than a cattleman.

"Breedin' there, an' pride," Sudden decided. "Wouldn't lift his lid to a king--less he liked him."

"Well, boss, I got him," Frosty announced.

"My feeble intellect had already divined as much," was the unsmiling reply. "You have not, I hope, been hurrying." Without giving the abashed cowboy time to answer he turned to the visitor. "That's a fine horse you have; Homer will take care of it."

Sudden shook his head. "I'd best 'tend to that myself," he said. "Nigger is a one-man hoss."

As they unsaddled and turned the animals loose in the corral, Frosty grimaced ruefully, and remarked, "Didn't I say he had a razor-tongue?"

"yu shorely asked for it. He's got eyes, too, ain't he?"

Sudden returned to the verandah alone, his companion not being anxious for another rebuff. The rancher pointed to a chair.

"We will sit here, if you please," he said, "The view is considered a fine one."

It was indeed. The expanse of grass-land, hemmed in by a strip of broken country beyond which forested slopes climbed steeply to the craggy, battlemented hills which formed the rim-rock of the great valley, presented a picture to please the eye of any lover of Nature. Keith gave the puncher little time to admire it.

"Mister Green, I am doubly in your debt," he began. "For protecting my adopted daughter from insult, and for giving me this opportunity of thanking you." He finished with an old-fashioned bow.

"Nothin' to that, seh," Sudden protested uncomfortably. "I just happened to be there."

"Very fortunately for Joan," the rancher said. "Sam is an old servant and an excellent fellow, but he has the pluck of a rabbit." His eyes flashed. "They should have died," he added vehemently. "Of course, you are a stranger...."

"I learned 'em a lesson," the puncher pointed out.

"So I heard, seh," Keith replied, and with a wisp of a smile. "I, too, have my magic. You see, my position renders it necessary that I should know all that ,.takes place in the valley; it is not idle curiosity. Neither is it when I ask why you have come to these parts?"

"I'm just a puncher who has pulled his picket-pin, havin' got tired o' lookin' at the same bit o' the world every mornin'. Allus had the travel itch--never could stay put for long. I've no folks an' no friends."

The rancher nodded. He knew the type and had not expected to receive any definite information. The average cowboy was a nomad by nature, liable to wander in search of new pastures from sheer restlessness. But though he accepted the explanation, he did so with reservations, being convinced that this nonchalant but extremely competent-looking young man, who wore two guns and had proved his ability to take care of himself, was something more than he had claimed.

'Would you care to ride for me?" he asked abruptly.

Sudden hesitated; save in moments of stress, when he could emulate lightning itself, he did not make rapid decisions. Keith misunderstood his silence.

"You have heard I'm a hard man to work for?" he suggested.

"No, seh, the word I had was that yore men are proud o'yu, an' that the pay an' grub is good," Sudden smiled. "I'm just wonderin' why yu offer me a job?"

"you have done me a service," the other reminded, and when the visitor made a gesture of dissent, "and you appear to be the kind of man I need."

"I can handle cattle."

"I want someone who can handle men--miscreants like those you dealt with yesterday," the rancher said harshly. "I want that nest of thieves and cut-throats, Hell City--of which you must now have heard--wiped out. Above all, I want to see their leader, who has robbed, flouted, and jeered at me, broken, lying in the dust at my feet, begging for his life."

The low, tense tones, flaming eyes, and clamped, set jaw testified to the passion which possessed him. In a moment it passed and Kenneth Keith was again the cold, courteous gentleman.

"The fellow is a menace to the whole community, Mister Green," he went on. "A cancerous growth which must be ruthlessly removed. I have written to the Governor, but apparently he can do nothing; we must take the law into our own hands. Well, what do you say?"

Though this was the offer for which he had hoped, Sudden did not wish to seem too eager, and it was only after a pause that he said:

"I'm takin' a hand, but I gotta play the cyards my own way. To begin with I'll be just one o' yore punchers--yu havin' put me on the pay-roll for helpin' Miss Keith. That'll give me time to look around." He waited, and then, "If I get a chance to down this leader would that be all right with yu?"

The elder man's face paled. "I would prefer to have him brought in for me to pass judgment on," he said slowly.

"I savvy," Sudden replied, and was glad he had asked the question. Somewhere in this proud, hard parent there still glowed a spark of affection for the son of his body.

The appearance of the girl interrupted the conversation, and the cowboy had to submit while she thanked him prettily.

"Green is going to ride for the Double K, Joan," Keith told her. "I scarcely think any of that devil's brood will interfere with you again." His voice grew stern. "If they do, he has my instructions to deal with them as they deserve."

"I hope the lesson they have received will be sufficient," she said, but there was fear in her eyes.

Sudden made a mental note, and then--in response to the rancher's hail--Frosty came up from the corral. His face split in a broad grin when he learned that the Double K had hired a hand.

"Show him where he sleeps, and then"--Keith's thin smile was in evidence--"you can go with him to Dugout to fetch his things."

As they went to the corral for their horses, Frosty looked at his new friend and said with a laugh:

"That's the 01' Man all over : lashes yu with that tongue o' his one minute, an' the next, does somethin' yu want but dasn't ask for. I'm thunderin' glad yo're joinin' us, Jim, an' Sam will be, too."

"He's losin' a boarder."

"He's gainin' a friend," came the swift retort, "an' bein' the colour he is, he don't have too many."

His prophecy proved correct, for when they returned to Dugout with the news, the saloon-keeper's delight and relief were obvious.

"I'se pow'ful pleased yo' ain't leavin' us, sah," he beamed. "Shucks, them hombres would say I'd run away,"

Sudden excused. "Ain't called for their guns, I s'pose?"

It appeared they had. Soon after the cowboys set out forthe Double K, a youth arrived, paid the money, and re- deemed the weapons. He left a message.

"I was to tell de stranger dat he'll suah see dem guns some mo'," the negro said.

Frosty chuckled. "I'll take to totin' a couple, Jim; that'll even up."

They devoured a meal, praised the cook until her grin of gratification threatened to engulf her ears, and headed once more for the Double K. By the time they reached it, riders were coming in from the range.

"Yu'll bring the strength up to fifteen, includin' the foreman," Frosty informed. "They's a middlin' good crew, though--well, mebbe it's my fault."

"That they's a good crew?" came the artless question.

"No, yu flathead, an' don't yu go to copyin' the 01' Man--one like him is all this ranch'll stand," Frosty said. "My fault if I can't like one or two as well as the rest. I expect I don't make friends easy."

"I've noticed it," Sudden remarked gravely. "Yu need to know a fella a long, long whiles before he captures yore youthful affection."

"Oh, go to--chapel," the young man told him, and gave his mount a swipe on the rump which sent it careering into the corral.

As they moved towards the bunkhouse a chubby, round-face cowboy approached, and was promptly hailed:

"Hi, Lazy, say `Howdy' to Jim Green, who's come to help the rest of us do yore job for yu."

The maligned one grinned and shoved out a paw. "Pleased to meetcha," he said, "My name's `Lacey'; these ignorant cow-wrestlers mis-pronounce it 'cause I do more work than any three of 'ern." He looked at Frosty. "Steve's wantin' to know where yu bin loafin' all the day?"

"Tell him to ask the Colonel."

The Double K bunkhouse was a large one and the built-in bunks arranged along each side left ample room for the long table which served for meals. At the far end a door led to the kitchen. Most of the riders had already taken their seats and were exchanging good-humoured banter when Frosty and his companions entered. Frosty conducted the newcomer to the head of the table, where Lagley was standing in conversation with a small, middle-aged man with ferrety eyes and a sour expression. This was Turvey, supposed to be more or less in the foreman's confidence.

"Oh, Steve, this is Jim Green," Frosty announced. "I reckon the 01' Man will have told yu about him."

The foreman spun round and glared when he saw the stranger who had humiliated him. Stark hostility shone in his eyes for an instant and as quickly died away. But Sudden noted it.

"I ain't seen Keith," Lagley said gruffly. "What was it he should 'a' told me?"

"Why, to put Jim on the pay-roll, o' course."

"No `of course' about it till I've spoke with the owner," the foreman snapped. "What yu bin doin' to-day?"

"Better ask him 'bout that, too," Frosty advised. "C'mon, Jim, let's git started afore these fellas wolf the lot." And, as they found seats, "Me, I'm a small eater."

"My Gawd!" the tall, thin man on his left breathed fervently.

"He's sayin' grace," Frosty explained aloud. "Well brought up, Lanky was. Fact is, they brought him up so far he never had a chance to fill out."

"An' he still ain't, sittin' next yu at meals," the long one complained. "See here, stranger, lemme tell yu a true tale. Frosty here once went to a barbecue an' the rancher who was givin' the party took him to where they was roasting the ox--whole. `There,' he sez proudly, `how'll that do yu?' `It'll dome fine,' Frosty replies. `But what are the other folks goin' to have?' "

The story produced a burst of laughter in which the hero of it joined. "Lanky, if yu on'y worked as well as yu lie, there'd be nothin' for the rest of us to do," he complimented. "Fortunately, it ain't possible."

A harsh voice from the top of the table suddenly stilled the hum of conversation.

"What's this I'm told o' Black Sam committin' sooicide?"

The men looked up in surprise and shook their heads; save Frosty, not one of them had heard of the happenings in Dugout the previous afternoon. An oldish, grey-bearded puncher was the first to speak.

"That's bad news. I don't cotton much to niggers, but Sam was a good sort, an' I'm sorry he's passed out."

"I didn't say he had--yet," Lagley said.

"When a fella has committed sooicide, he's dead," the other replied. "Never knowed a case otherwise."

"It amounts to the same thing, Goudie," the foreman retorted. "Sam flung four o' the Imps out'n his saloon yestiddy. How long d'yu figure they'll let him live?"

"Good for Sam," one of the younger men shouted.

But the majority of the faces showed only concern. "No, bad for Sam," Goudie corrected. "Yo're right, Steve; they'll kill him--shore."

"Yore facts is wrong, Steve," Frosty interjected, and gasped as Sudden's elbow administered a warning. "It was a stranger what throwed them bums out." He went on to tell the story, without, however, divulging that the chief actor was present. The recital elicited both amusement and jubila- , tion.

"Beat up four of 'em with his bare fists an' made 'em hock their guns?" laughed one. "I'd 'a' give a blue stack to 'a' seen it."

"I'd shore like to meet that stranger--in friendship," Lazy contributed, blissfully unconscious that he was sitting next to him. "He must be a born fighter."

"A born fool, yu mean," Lagley sneered. Suspicion suddenly came to him, and without another word, he got up and went out. Scowling heavily, he strode to the ranch-house, to find the owner sitting on the verandah.

"Well, Lagley, what is troubling you?" Keith asked. "That new hand yu took on. What d'yu know about him?"

"Do I have to tell you?"

"I'm foreman, an' responsible to yu for the men."

"You relieve me, I was beginning to think I was responsible to you," came the caustic response. "My knowledge of him is limited to the fact that he has done what the rest of you cannot--administered a rebuff to some of those gaol-birds from Hell City."

"An' sneaks off here hopin' the Double K will protect him," the foreman gibed.

"Nothing of the kind, he came at my invitation. Have you anything against him?"

"Don't like his looks," was the sullen answer.

"A pity," the Colonel said. "What are you going to do about it--throw up your job?"

This astounding suggestion, made in acid tones, completed the man's discomfiture. Inwardly seething with a rage he dared not show, he was quick to recognize his danger; there were others in the outfit who could take his place, and this cynical old tyrant might even ... He writhed at the thought of being "given his time" by the saturnine stranger.

"Yu know I warn't thinkin' no such thing, boss," he protested. "I was on'y figurin' that when Satan learns we've hired that fella, he'll take action, that's all."

"Which is another reason for hiring him," Keith returned."Do I need to ask that scoundrel's permission before I engage a hand?"

"I guess not," Lagley agreed. "It's yore ranch, but don't say I didn't warn yu. Why, this hombre might be one o' Satan's gang for all yu know."

A deep crease furrowed the rancher's brow. "And so might you--for all I know," he said curtly. "I'm backing my judgment."

He turned to go into the house and so missed the malignant glare of resentment which followed him.

The foreman's abrupt departure from the table spoiled no one's appetite, and the plump, red-faced cook was kept busy. Sudden paid him a compliment.

"Don't flatter him, Jim," Frosty begged. "He's improvin', but he's a long ways behind Black Sam yet."

"Which yu can't wonder, seem' I never had his experience," the cook said plaintively.

"What experience?" Frosty incautiously asked.

"Sam used to feed hawgs afore he come here," the man of pots and pans chuckled, and beat a hurried retreat into his own domain amid a storm of merriment and abuse.

The meal over, Frosty led the way outside, declining Lazy's invitation to play cards.

"Yo're ail broke an' two-cent poker ain't no game for a man," was how he put it.

"Which was why I asked yu," the other shot back.

Seated on the long bench in front of the bunkhouse the two cowboys smoked in silence for a while. Frosty commenced the conversation.

"What yu think o' the outfit?"

"Good bunch to get along with, I'd say."

"Shore, but--as I told yu--there's one or two--drawbacks."

"Bound to be," Sudden agreed, and his eyes crinkled a little at the corners. "The foreman's anxiety 'bout yu to-day warn't entirely due to affection."

"No, he don't like me--which is certainly amazin'," the young man grinned. "The amount o' sleep I've lost over that yu wouldn't believe."

"Yo're right, I wouldn't," Sudden said. "He concealed his joy at the sight o' me pretty well, too."

"Yeah, didn't like the 01' Man not consultin' him, I guess."

"Mebbe, but it's odd, seem' he promised me a job."

Frosty's look of blank astonishment cried out for an explanation. When it had been given, the Double K man whistled, and remarked:

"Well, if yu ain't a tight-mouth. So yu got the drop, set him afoot, an' yo're surprised he ain't glad to see yu. What did yu expect--thanks?" His expression sobered. "Jokin' on one side, Jim, it was a bad break; he ain't the forgivin' sort."

"Yo're ruinin' my night's rest," was the facetious rejoinder. "What we doin' to-morrow?"

"Dunno, but I'll lay we have the rottenest an' riskiest work he can find."

Chapter VI

Breakfast at the Double K was a serious business, and there was little of the gaiety which enlivened the evening meal. Its place was taken by the rattle of knives and forks and picturesque appeals to the badgered cook for the replenishment of quickly-emptied platters. A long day in the saddle had to be prepared for, and--as one jocularly expressed it, "Starvation is a horrible death, Cookie darlin'."

The perspiring purveyor promptly countered with, "How many weeks d'yu expect to be away?"

Going to the corral for his horse, Sudden encountered Lagley.

"I wanted a word with yu," the foreman said. "So far, the cyards have come yore way; don't overplay 'em. I ain't the fella to nurse a grudge; an' if yu do yore work an' don't chatter, yu an' me'll git along fine."

"Suits me," the new hand replied.

Frosty, red-faced and profane, emerged from the corral leading a wiry, wicked-eyed dun pony. "C'mon, Cactus, ain't yu ever goin' to git any sense?" he panted. "One o' these bright mornin's I'll take an' bust yore slats in." He looked at Lagley. "What yu want me to do?"

"Yu an' Green ride the northern line. I was along there yestiddy an' it struck me cows was missin'."

"Right, git yore bronc, Jim," Frosty said, and as Sudden stepped forward, added, "Don't yu want yore rope?"

The reply was a low whistle, and instantly the big black separated itself from the milling band of horses. Sudden lifted down the top bar of the entrance, Nigger leapt lightly over the others and stood, thrusting a velvety muzzle forward for the customary biscuit.

"Trick horse, huh?" the foreman sneered.

"Yeah," its owner replied. "One of 'em is pretendin' to lose his footin' on a slope; yu did oughta see him do that."

He cinched his saddle, got up, and sat watching the battle between Cactus and its master. "Want any help?" he asked solicitously.

Frosty did not, and said so, with emphasis. "This chunk o' mischief has gotta learn I'm boss," he gritted.

Presently he was ready and they loped away. The look Lagley sent after them was the reverse of pleasant. "An' I shore hope them fellas got my message," he muttered.

Turvey strolled up. "They make a fine pair, ridin' side by side, don't they?" he queried, his eyes full of malice.

"They'd be just as fine lyin' side by side," Lagley retorted.

Turvey's bent shoulders went up. "I don't give a damn either way, but I would like to find that black hess."

"An' be pitched into hell the first time yu straddled him."

"Don't think it, Steve; I ain't so easy got rid of," was the meaning reply.

The foreman scowled, saddled his own beast, and rode to the ranch-house to report the day's work he had set in motion.

"What have you done with the new man?" Keith enquired. "Sent him an' Homer to look at the northern boundary. We've bin losin' cattle there lately."

"Lately?" repeated the rancher scornfully. "You speak as if it were something new."

"That's the roughest part o' the range," Lagley reminded. "Steers are bound to stray."

"Especially with riders behind them--riders who are allowed a free hand."

"We lost one man an' had two others crippled out there," the foreman protested. "Yu ain't forgettin' that?"

"I am not likely to, with the bill still unpaid," Keith said bitterly.

Meanwhile, the two cowboys were heading steadily northwards. The first few miles, over the open, rolling grassland, were covered in silence. Then Frosty spoke.

"Didn't I tell yu we'd git the worst job?"

"What's the matter with it? Routin' out strays ain't so much."

"It is when there's a chance o' runnin' into hot lead any minute."

"How come?" Sudden demanded. "We'll be on our own range."

"yeah, but that scum in Hell City figure it belongs to them, an' act accordin'."

"Meanin'?"

"One of our boys--Tim Jellis--was wiped out an' two more wounded less'n three months back doin' the very thing we've bin sent to do," Frosty explained. "Rustlers? Yeah, an' wearin' the devil's own brand."

"Why not build a line-house an' have a coupla men stay out there allatime?"

"We tried it, but the durned place catched fire an' burned down--green wood at that."

They had left the open range and were traversing a sandy waste broken only by patches of scrub and bunchgrass. In front of them the ground rose gradually towards a range of barren hills, the slopes of which were gashed by steep-sided gorges. Sagebrush, mesquite, and an occasional juniper were the only trees; here and there a giant cactus flung wide its arms as though to bar their progress. Frosty pointed to the grey, forbidding heights ahead of them.

"Somewheres in there is Hell City," he informed.

"Too far for a visit?"

"No, too dangerous," was the reply. "Also, we got work to d Hullo, what's that mean?"

Sudden followed the levelled finger; less than a mile away a tiny column of smoke was spiralling into the clear air, and then came a faint bellow.

"Damnation!" Frosty swore. "They're swappin' brands right under our noses. C'mon."

He dragged his Winchester from the sheath under the fender of his saddle, and was about to spur his pony when Sudden interposed:

"Wait, we'll take a peek at these hombres first; that smoke might be there for us to see."

Crouching in their saddles and keeping, when possible, under cover of the scrub, they rode to within a couple of hundred yards of the tell-tale fire. Here they left the horses and stole forward on foot until they reached the mouth of a shallow gully, the wall on one side of which afforded an excellent view. One glance told the story. Two riders were holding a bunch of twenty steers, from' which a third was clumsily roping and dragging one at a time to the fire, where another pair awaited it. One of these, when the animal had been thrown, tied it, and his companion, drawing a glowing iron from the embers, bent over the prostrate beast. The pungent smell of burning hair assailed the nostrils of the watchers.

"This is a trap we mighty near ran our fool heads right into," Sudden said. "On'y them two at the fire know anythin' 'bout cattle. They were waitin' for us, an' where's the other jasper?"

He pointed to three saddled ponies standing apart. The spiteful crack of a rifle, the bullet from which perforated the crown of his hat, provided the answer. A spreading puff of smoke from the higher ground on the other side of the gullycompleted their information. Sudden flattened himself behind a slight upward slope and swore when a second shot hummed past his ears.

"Hell's bells, he's above us an' we can't see him," he said. "But we can stop the brand-blottin'."

He pressed the trigger as he spoke and the man with the iron spun round and dropped. His companion was already running when Frosty fired and whooped when the target stumbled and pitched headlong, to move no more. At the first shot, the three with the herd abandoned their charge and spurred their mounts up the gully, leaving their look-out to fend for himself. A steady stream of lead showed that he was still attending to business.

"He's behind that big stone on the point," Sudden decided. "First, we'll set him afoot." A thought came. "Any chance o' them others circlin' round an' takin' a hand in the game?"

"Not one," Frosty assured. "Thisyer gorge is 'bout three mile long an' the sides is straight up."

A couple of bullets into the ground beneath their feet sent the ponies careering wildly out across the plain, and the hidden rustler expressed his opinion of the proceeding with a miniature hurricane of lead which tore up the ground all round the cowboys.

"I'm suspectin' he ain't fond o' walkin'." Sudden remarked, adding grimly, "Well, mebbe he won't have any to do. See that rock to the right o' the one he's usin'? The face slopes back towards him an' there's just a chance a slug might angle off in his direction. Let's try her out."

They made the experiment, painstakingly bespattering the stone Sudden had pointed out. The unknown replied vigorously, but the two men had dug themselves in and he did no damage. From time to time, a jeering shout commented upon what the utterer evidently regarded as poor marksmanship. Then one of these was cut short by an oath and the bombardment from the boulder ceased. For a while they waited, suspecting a ruse, and then Sudden cautiously pushed his empty hat into sight; no shot came.

"We might 'a' got him, or mebbe he's slipped away," he said. He rose to his feet and nothing happened. "We'll take a look."

They descended to the floor of the gully, where the body of the brand-blotter sprawled unnaturally by the fire, the running-iron still clutched in his hand. A few yards away was his assistant, and both had ceased to breathe. They were Mexicans of the peon class, and on the breast of each was Satan's sign, the little red imp. Sudden drew his knife and cut the stitches which secured the symbol.

"Get the other," he told Frosty. "Might come in useful one time."

They climbed laboriously to the top of the bluff, only to find the boulder which had sheltered the enemy deserted. The ground behind it was littered with cigarette stubs and empty shells, while the other stone was splashed with the marks of their bullets.

"We scared him out, anyways," Frosty decided.

Sudden was staring at a red stain some paces away; there were others further on, with zigzagging footprints and an uneven furrow which might well have been made by a trailed rifle-butt. He did not follow them.

They went down, fetched their horses, and rounded up the steers, on four of which the brand had already been changed.

Frosty surveyed them with lifted eyebrows. Diamond," he said. "That's odd."

"Shore is," Sudden agreed gravely. "But why?"

His friend laughed. "We fit so well together that I keep forgettin' yo're a stranger," he explained. "Yu see, there is a Twin Diamond range, an' part of it runs cheek by jowl with our'n south-west o' here. The odd thing is that the owner, Martin Merry, is mighty fond o' Keith, an' the least likely to rustle his cattle."

"It could be an attempt to make trouble atween 'em," Sudden surmised, and pointed to one of the altered brands. "Pretty raw work; even when it's healed up, a kid could see it had been tampered with."

"I reckon yu got it," Frosty assented. "Merry's cows never stray this far--the feed is poor--an' his men would have to do some explainin'. What's our move?"

"Drive these four to the Twin Diamond an' let 'em see we ain't romancin'. That'll put a crimp in the game."

The idea seemed sound, and having bunched the four animals which had been operated upon, and sent the others scampering into the open, they set out. To a question about burying the dead rustlers, Sudden replied harshly, "D'yu reckon they'd 'a' done that for us? Besides, buzzards has to live."

One look at the stern face and Frosty said no more. Brief as was their acquaintance, he had already divined that here was a man who, though not much older than himself in years, was immeasurably so in experience. Hazing their little herd ahead of them they rode in silence for a while. Then Sudden spoke:

"Them three skunks who skedaddled were Scar an' two o' the fellas I flung outa Black Sam's. How did they know I was comin' here?"

"They couldn't have--it just happened so," the other replied. "Though it is claimed that Satan hombre is a wizard."

Sudden grinned in derision. "Yu ain't believin' it, are yu?"

"Mebbe not, but it's amazin' the things he finds out," was the dubious answer, and then, "Why, damn it, nobody 'mowed till we started out this mornin'."

"On'y the man who sent us," came the sardonic reminder. Frosty's eyes widened. "Oh, hell, Jim. I don't like Steve, but he wouldn't ..."

"Mebbe not, an' then again, lie might. Worth rememberin', anyways. What's Merry like?"

"Short, fat, an' got the easiest laugh I ever heard--might 'a' been made to fit his name. He's 'bout the on'y fella around here who can talk back to the Colonel, but when he scores yu he does it with a smile that takes the sting out. His outfit swears by him."

"That tells me plenty," Sudden said.

Two hours later they halted their charges in front of a long, squat timber edifice which was sadly in need of repair. Cracked, even broken, curtainless windows gaped at them, and in several places the roof quite evidently was a poor protection from the elements. The bunk-house, barns, and corrals were in little better shape. Frosty noted his companion's surprise.

"One o' these days the scrap-heap will tumble in an' Merry will crawl out'n the ruins an' just tell the boys to build another," he said. "No, there ain't a female on the premises, as yu might guess; he's got a Chink cook." He raised his voice in a cry of "Hello, the house!"

In response, a man nearly as broad as he was high, with a huge sombrero tilted back from his round, red face, came waddling out. His mouth split into a wide grin when he saw the visitors.

"Why, Frosty, what's fetched yu here?" he bellowed. "Light an' rest yore saddles."

They got down and seated themselves on a bench by the ranch-house door. The cattle, tired by the long tramp, were contentedly cropping the sparse brown herbage. Frosty duly presented his companion. The rancher studied the young man in silence for a moment, and then, with twinlding eyes, remarked:

"Pleased to know yu, Green. Yu got the second best boss in the country; if he don't treat yu right, come an' see the best."

The Double K puncher chuckled. "I told yu he was a modest fella, Jim," he remarked.

"Well, boys, spill the beans, or mebbe yore throats need irrigatin'," Merry said, and when Frosty promptly retorted that they did, he shouted, "Hi, Chang, there's a couple o' thirsty gents here; fetch a jug o' water."

For a moment the cowboy's face fell, but resumed its grin when he saw that the water was accompanied by a bottle. They sampled the contents, and then Frosty told his story. Merry spoke only when it was ended.

"Good notion o' yores to bring 'em here. I'm obliged."

"Warn't mine--Jim thought o' that. He figured that if the rustlers were aimin' to put yu in wrong with Keith, that would crab the deal."

The fat man nodded. "I'm obliged to both o' yu. If Green could rope an' throw one o' them cows ..."

He watched narrowly as the puncher stepped into his saddle and walked the horse towards the grazing brutes. At the moment they began to move, the black leapt forward, the rope circled through the air, the loop dropping neatly over the horns of the nearest steer. A flip of the lariat to the right and a swerve to the left by the horse threw the captive on its side and a turn of the rider's wrist sent a couple of coils along the rope which effectually snared the kicking hind legs. "Knows his job," the rancher remarked to his companion, as they stepped to where the victim of the cowboy's dexterity awaited them. "It ain't every wrastler can throw an' hobble from the saddle."

One glance at the altered brand and Merry's laugh rang out. "Clever work," he said. "Even a tenderfoot could see that cow ain't wearin' its proper monogram, an' that's what they wanted. Tell Ken I'm buyin' these beasts--that'll save yu the trouble o' drivin' 'em back, an' put things straight."

Leaving Sudden to release his prisoner, they returned to the ranch-house, for a thrown steer is apt to be resentful and has no fear of a man on foot.

"Hear about the stranger rough-housin' four o' them Hell City outlaws at Black Sam's?" Merry asked, and without waiting for an answer, "I sent word I'd like to see him, but he'd went, cuss it."

"Allasame, yu've got yore wish," Frosty grinned, his eyes on Sudden, who, having deftly freed and coiled his rope, smacked the outraged beast on the rump, and swung round to rejoin them.

"Yu tellin' me that's the fella?" the rancher demanded. "Well, I'll be tee-totally damned. So Ken got ahead o' me? What was his idea takin' on a stranger?"

"First off, he wanted to thank him, I expect," the other replied, and told how the trouble at Black Sam's had started.

Merry nodded, and when Sudden returned, said, "Green, it 'pears I'm more obliged to yu than I guessed. Miss Joan is a particular friend o' mine, an' if I hadn't been born so darned early, I'd be ha'ntin' the Double K pretty persistent. I ain't forgettin' what yu did for her, an' I'll be pleased to see yu here any time, which, o' course, goes for yu, too, Frosty.

Tell Ken to keep me posted. I'll bet that hell-hound in the hills is plannin' some devilment right now."

On the way back to the Double K, Frosty was inquisitive. "What d'yu think of him?"

"He keeps good whisky," was all the answer.

Chapter VII

Hell City was difficult of access. A rough, narrow wagon-way, winding serpent-like among the foothills, ever climbing, and walled in by rock on one side and--towards the end --a precipice on the other, formed the only approach from the direction of Dugout. It terminated in a heavy gate of timber which was always guarded. Within was a kind of street running between vertical cliffs which bulged out and then curved in again, almost meeting. Here was another gate--the western entrance. In the stone walls of this oval an ancient people had fashioned a place to live. The present inhabitants had, in fact, adopted and adapted a Hopi Indian cliff-settlement. There were a few wooden buildings scattered about, among them a store and a saloon, but most of the newcomers were content with the caves they had found there, which required no more than the provision of door or window to make them habitable.

It was outside one of these that Scar and his two companions halted their tired mounts at the end of the ignominious retreat from the scene of the rustling. All wore a look of unease.

"Gotta report, I s'pose," the leader said.

"You bet," one of them retorted. "He'll find out, mebbe knows a'ready, like' he did that Dugout doin'."

"Who's to tell him?" Scar argued. "The blasted cowboys won't, the Greasers is cashed, an' Squint must be, or he'd 'a' showed up."

"He'll git wise, I tell you," the other persisted, "an' thenwhat? We've lost out an' there's no sense in makin' it wuss."

"Daggs is right," the third man put in. "We gotta take our medicine."

"You said it, Coger," Scar replied. "Git ready for a stiff dose."

They followed along a short tunnel in the rock and reached a door on which the leader rapped. It was thrown back by a creature who, in the half-light, appeared to be a mixture of man and beast. Not more than five feet in height, it possessed a barrel of a body set on stunted, inadequate legs, enormous shoulders, and abnormally long arms. The animal resemblance was increased by a face almost covered with shaggy hair from which a large nose protruded.

"Hello, Silver," Scar greeted. "We wanta see the Chief."

The freak's mouth opened in a malicious grin, showing teeth like yellow fangs. "He's wantin' to see you," he said.

Apprehension was on their faces as they filed in. It was a spacious room, and despite the bare walls only partly concealed by gaudy Navajo blankets, and the two unglazed holes which served as windows, to them it represented luxury. Rich rugs in which the feet sank dotted the rock floor, costly articles of furniture were spread about, and on a chair covered with a great bearskin sat the owner of all this magnificence.

That he was young--well under thirty--was evident, notwithstanding the slitted, crimson velvet mask which veiled his face down to the supercilious, almost bloodless lips. Though wearing cowboy attire, his silken shirt, goatskin chaps, and high-heeled boots were of the finest quality. A pair of ivory-handled, silver-mounted Colts hung in a cartridge-studded belt round his middle. The men had entered with hats on, but one glance from the cold, washed-out blue eyes led to their furtive removal.

"So you failed again?" The voice was low, devoid of passion, yet menacing. Scar began a mumbling explanation but was not allowed to finish. "Don't trouble to lie--I know the details. The first time there were four of you; on this occasion, six. How strong do you have to be to beat one man?"

The gibe made them squirm. "There were two of 'em," Daggs corrected.

The Chief shrugged disdainfully. "You were three to one," he said. "Where's Squint?"

"Thought you knowed," Scar said hardily, and got a look which made him regret he had spoken.

"I do know, but I wanted to see what lying excuse you could find for scuttling away like scared cottontails," was the scathing retort. "Now listen: this fellow Green is not to be touched till I give permission--I have plans regarding him. You have blundered twice; a third time will be--the last. Silver, the door."

Like whipped curs they slunk out and repaired to the hovel they shared in common. Here, sitting on his pallet-bed, they found Squint, who cursed them heartily for a set of cowards.

"What th' hell could we do?" Scar excused. "We was aimin' to swing round an' git behind 'em, but a chipmunk couldn't climb out'n that gully. Why didn't you keep under cover?"

"I did, you fool, but they started bouncin' bullets off'n a rock an' one got me in the thigh," Squint retorted irritably. "How d'you git here?" Coger asked.

"Ran into Silver--he toted me on his back. Gawd, he's strong that fella, an' can run an' climb like the bear-cat he is."

"So that's how the Chief knew," Scar remarked.

Squint bristled.

"If yo're meanin' I told him--"

"I ain't--you wouldn't be so dumb. Satan don't trust nobody, damn him, an' Silver was watchin'."

"Good for him--I'd never 'a' made it," Squint said. "All I want now is a peek at that Green hombre over the hind-sight of a gun."

"An' all you'll want arter that will be a wooden box to rot in," Scar told him. "The Chief has put the bars up on the gent."

"Sufferin' serpents ! why?"

"He didn't say--must 'a' forgot to, mebbe," was the ironical reply.

"Bars or no bars, I'm gettin' even for this," the wounded man growled, tapping his bandaged thigh.

Scar laughed harshly. "We shall shorely miss you, Squint."

* When the two punchers returned to the Double K they found its owner in conversation with his foreman. Sudden fancied that the latter's brow darkened a little when they rode up, but he could not be sure. Frosty told the tale of the day's doings, merely giving the facts.

"They were putting Merry's brand on my cows?" Keith asked, when the cowboy concluded. "Why should they do that?"

"Jim figured it was to get yu in bad with the Twin Diamond."

"Pretty far-fetched reason, that," the foreman commented.

"Can you think of a better one?" his employer snapped. "What was Merry's view?"

"He agreed it was like enough, an' said for me to tell yu he's buyin' the cows," Frosty replied. "The brandin' was mighty careless."

"Did you know the men?"

"The two at the fire was Greasers, three more was in the ruckus at Sam's, Jim sez; we didn't see the other."

The rancher pondered for a moment. "If it didn't seem impossible, one might think they were waiting for you."

"Shore looked thataway," Frosty said bluntly. "The fire was bound to be seen if anybody rode within miles."

Lagley's laugh was scornful. "They claim Satan is a wizard, but I reckon he can't guess as good as that," he said. "Ain't but once in a while we ride that line."

He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Keith whirled on him. "Is--that--so?" he said slowly. "No wonder I'm losing stock when you leave the door wide open for rustlers. Why don't you put up a board with `Welcome' on it?"

The foreman's hard face flushed beneath the tan at this savage sarcasm. "We ain't strong enough to fight Hell City," he said sullenly. "Though I'm bettin' we'll have to now." This with a baleful glare at the two punchers.

"If you are blaming these two men for to-day's work you can forget it," the Colonel said brusquely. "I am only sorry they couldn't exterminate them all. Green, I've something to say to you." He waited until the others had gone, and then, "What's your opinion of Lagley?"

"Ain't got one--yet," was the non-committal reply. "Some of the men don't like him."

"A popular foreman is either mighty good or mighty poor," Sudden stated, and changed the subject. "How many men does this Hell City jasper have?"

"Rumour says anything from thirty to fifty."

"Split the difference an' call it two score. Ain't it odd that out of all them, three at least should be the ones I tangled with?"

"True," Keith agreed. "I think you were expected. Well, probably Lagley is right, it means war." His face became set with a swift resolve. "Have you been told that this masked miscreant is my--son?"

"Yeah, by folk who don't believe it."

"The evidence leaves little doubt," the rancher replied, with icy calmness. "Even if it be so, the welfare of the community demands that he be brought to justice." The stern voice did not falter, but the gaunt, white face told what an effort the word had cost. It was some moments before he spoke again. "What do you propose to do?"

"It's his turn to move," the puncher pointed out. "Me an' Frosty will scout around like we did to-day; I want to get wise to the country."

When he returned to the bunkhouse, he found it in a state of excitement over the defeat of the rustlers.

"Sorta levels up for poor ol' Tim," one said.

"Huh!" Lanky snorted. "A dozen Greasers wouldn't do that."

The jubilation was not quite universal, several of the older men taking a pessimistic view of the matter. Turvey spoke plainly.

"Askin' for trouble, I'd say," was how he put it. "What's a few steers compared with a man's life?"

"How about that time yu shot a fella for tryin' to cheat yu out'n a measly ten dollars?" Frosty asked, recalling a story Turvey was fond of telling.

"That was different," the other defended.

"Yeah, the dollars was yourn, the steers is the 01' Man's," was the pointed reply.

"Yu kids think yu know it all, an' then some. When yu git yore growth ..."

Lazy headed off the impending quarrel. "What d'yu reckon Mister Satan will do?" he enquired of the company at large.

"Tuck his tail into his rump an' punch the breeze, pronto, o' course," Turvey sneered. "Me, I'd be scared to death to know Frosty was after my scalp."

That young man shared in the laugh. "Yu ain't got no scalp, yu bald-headed ol' buzzard," he said genially.

Lagley had listened to the discussion in frowning silence. Now he spoke. "Green, yu'll ride the north line for a spell. I figure, after the fright yu've given 'em"--the sarcasm was pronounced--"one man'll be enough."

Frosty started to open his mouth, but closed it again when he caught his friend's warning glance. Later, Sudden contrived to find the foreman alone.

"Oh, Lagley, I didn't say nothin' before the others, but the Colonel said for me an' Frosty to double-team it," he explained.

The foreman's eyes flashed. "O' course, if yo're afeard to go it alone--" he began.

Sudden laughed. "I'm shakin' in my shoes, but when the owner--Keith is that, I s'pose?--gives orders ..."

"They gotta be obeyed, huh, even if the foreman don't agree?"

"I wasn't sayin' that, but the hand the orders is given to has to carry 'em out. The foreman can argue--"

"Me argue with that bull-headed ol' fool?" Lagley savagely interrupted. "I got somethin' better to do. If he wants to run his damned ranch to hellangone ..."

He stalked angrily away, leaving the cowboy in a thoughtful mood.

Chapter VIII

The following morning found the friends on the scene of the previous day's encounter, which, Sudden now learned, was known as Coyote Canyon. The bodies had gone, but not far, as two newly made mounds of stones testified. The ashes of the fire had been covered with sand.

"Someone has tidied up," was Sudden's comment. "How far to Hell City from here?"

" 'Bout eight mile, straight along the canyon," Frosty told him. "Thinkin' o' payin' a visit?"

"Not till I get an invite," was the smiling reply, and the other grinned too, never dreaming that the remark was meant.

Since their task was ostensibly the driving of strays from the stretches of scrub which clothed the foothills, they decided to separate. Two quick shots would be the signal for rejoining with the utmost speed. Frosty having departed eastwards, Sudden turned his horse's head in the opposite direction. For a mile or so, he threaded a way through clumps of thorny brush, forcing the few cattle he unearthed out on to the plain, and then turned abruptly to the north. A steady, devious climb along rocky, cactus-strewn defiles brought him at length to a lofty ledge of level ground, bare save for patches of grass, a sprinkling of gay flowers, and scattered groups of spruce and pine trees. On the far side of this expanse were more hills, with a break in the middle of them masked by forest growth. He was making towards this when the scream of a frightened horse dissipated the silence, and a noment later the animal came into view, galloping furiously hrough the boulders and brush which littered the approach o the pass.

"A woman!" the puncher ejaculated. "What the hell ...?" His question was soon answered; little more than a hundred paces behind, a long, lithe tawny form flashed in the sunlight as it leapt over an obstacle in pursuit of its prey. The dangling reins told that the rider had lost control of her mount; clinging desperately to the saddle-horn, she could only urge it on in the vain hope of outrunning the peril. But the spectator saw another danger of which she evidently knew nothing : crazed by terror, the pony was racing blindly for the edge of the plateau and a sheer drop of a thousand feet on to the jagged rocks below.

A word, and Nigger shot away to the right in an endeavour to intercept the fugitives, the mighty muscles bunching under the silken skin and transforming the animal into a black thunderbolt. A few tense moments at full speed and Sudden, standing in his stirrups, whirled his rope.

"Steady, boy," he warned, as the loop settled over the head of the runaway, and Nigger slowed down sufficiently to check the captive pony without throwing it. For a few more yards the maddened beast fought onwards, but the increasing drag of the rope and the choking effect of the tightening noose prevailed; it pulled up, spent and trembling, almost on the brink of the abyss.

One peril was past, but another still threatened. The mountain lion--doubtless made bold by hunger--was not content to be baulked of its booty and was preparing to spring when Sudden's bullet smashed into its brain. With a word to his horse, the puncher got down, stepped swiftly to the woman and lifted her limp form from the saddle.

"Everythin's right now, ma'am," he assured her. "How yu feelin'?"

"Damned queer," was the surprising answer, as she subsided on a near-by stone. "What possessed my pony to jerk the reins from my hands and bolt like a mad thing?"

"A big cat was needin' a meal--badly, I guess," he told her, and, when she looked round fearfully, added, "He ain't needin' it no longer."

"So that was the shot," she said, and for a space was silent, studying him.

Through narrowed lids, he returned the scrutiny. She was young, about his own age, he estimated, and, in any company, would be adjudged a beautiful woman. Thick braided coils of ebon hair matched the velvety darkness of her slumbrous eyes; a straight nose, full lips, and rounded cheeks which the sun had but faintly tinted, formed a face which compelled admiration. She was tall, for a woman, and her smart riding-costume displayed her fine, well-built figure to perfection. Presently she smiled, showing white, even teeth.

"It just comes to me that I haven't thanked you for saving me from being devoured," she said. "But perhaps the lion would have preferred the pony.""

"I reckon not, if he'd any taste," Sudden said.

She smiled again at the compliment. "Why did you stop us before shooting the beast? Suppose you had missed ..."

"Mebbe it was a risk, but I didn't expect to miss."

His gaze went involuntarily to the edge of the plateau; she rose and stepped towards it, only to come hurrying back, horror and contrition in her eyes.

"Forgive me, my friend," she cried. "You have saved me from a dreadful death, and I find fault. I did not know ..."

"Shucks," he smiled. "Nothin' to that, ma'am; yu may be able to help me one day."

"If that time ever comes, you may rely upon me," she said soberly. "But for now, I should like to know to whom I am indebted."

He gave his name, adding that he was riding for Keith. "The Double K? Aren't you off your range a little?"

"I'm kind o' new, an' don't know the lay-out," he explained. "Took a notion to come up here an' look around."

"Which was as well for me. Do you think my horse can be trusted to carry me home?"

"I reckon." He whistled, and Nigger trotted up, the other animal having perforce to follow. The woman's eyes swept over the black approvingly.

"Your own?" she asked, and when he nodded, "Take care of him, my friend; he's a temptation."

"Any stranger who tried to ride him would have a real interestin' time," the puncher told her.

He went to her pony, which was still wild-eyed and nervous, but when he had slipped the noose from its neck, soothed and spoken to it for a moment or two, it quietened down and allowed its mistress to mount.

"You seem to understand horses," she commented.

"I was raised among 'em," he said. "Like dawgs, they know their friends." He coiled his rope, and got into his own saddle. "An' where now?"

"I'm going to look for my hat--it fell off," she replied, but when he offered to help she shook her head. "You have done enough, and I shall remember, but we part here."

"For good?" he queried.

"Quien saber'" She smiled. "Fate, having brought us together so dramatically, must mean us to meet again."

He clasped the firm, gloved hand she extended and turned his horse southwards. It was only when she had vanished among the trees that he remembered she had not told him her name--the brand on the pony was his only clue to her identity. Cursing himself for a bonehead, he retraced his steps to the plain, where he soon met Frosty.

"Thought I heard a shot," that young man greeted."'Yu did--ran into a mountain lion.

"Git him?"

"Yeah," Sudden replied. "Anybody own a B D iron around here?"

"No, an' we don't usually brand our lions neither," was the flippant answer.

"Nor yore jackasses--at least, I ain't noticed yu wearin' one," Sudden returned pleasantly.

It was some time later that, without even a warning chuckle, Frosty emitted a bellow of laughter which sent both their mounts into the air, and it was some moments before they could convince the startled animals that the end of the world had not arrived. Even Nigger, who would stand like a rock when a pistol was discharged by his ear, was not proof against that explosive shriek of merriment. When quiet had been restored, Sudden looked disgustedly at the cause of the trouble.

"What's the idea, yu snowy-pated pie-eater, tryin' to bust our necks thataway?" he demanded.

"I just remembered somethin'," the culprit spluttered, suppressing a second outburst with difficulty.

"Must be a helluva joke if yu've on'y just seen it."

"Shore is," his friend grinned. "Might them letters, B D, stand for `Bewitchin' Damsel'?" Getting no response, he went on, "She's a good-looker all right, but so is a cactus or a cougar an' they're safer to have truck with."

Sudden spoke to his steed. "Don't yu never eat locoweed, ol' hoss, now yu see what it does. Here's a fella who looks a'most intelligent at times, an'--"

"Quit joshin', Jim," Frosty broke in. "B D means Belle Dalroy, an' her address is Hell City. Come clean."

Whereupon Sudden told his adventure, which drew a long whistle from his companion. "She's reputed to be hand and glove with Satan an' as cold-blooded as a frawg," he said.

"She seemed very grateful; might be useful if ever we go visitin' there."

"If ever we go? Leave me out, cowboy; I'd as soon try the real place."

"Oh, I dunno; it'd be kind o' interestin'."

"Yeah, Scar an' his crew would make it that for yu."

He got no reply; Sudden's mind was busy with the woman, wondering what had brought her to this refuge of the reckless. Was she, too, in hiding? It was more than possible, for with all her beauty, he had sensed a hardness which told of contacts with a world which had not been too kind. He became aware that Frosty was speaking.

"If I hear o' yu tryin' to go there alone, yu an' me'll take the floor together."

At which Sudden laughed and was well content.

The guard at the entrance to Hell City did not keep Belle Dalroy waiting, the ponderous gate swinging back as she reached it. With a smile of thanks she passed through and rode to the Chief's quarters. Here again she encountered no difficulty; even before she knocked, the door opened. She passed the dwarf with a mere glance and failed to see the look of desire in the animal eyes.

The Chief was standing at one of the deep, curtained openings which did duty as windows, from which could be seen a considerable portion of the great basin. Less than a dozen miles distant, to the east, lay the settlement of Dugout. From the windows themselves, the cliff face fell, almost vertically, to the tree-tops a hundred feet below.

"Did you have a nice ride, Belle?" he asked.

"yes, and no," she replied. "I wish you wouldn't wear that hideous disguise when I come to visit you."

Her petulance appeared to amuse him. "Hideous?" he repeated. "I think it rather intriguing, and--as I am tired' of telling you--I have made a vow. And it is useful to me; the unknown fascinates the ignorant and keeps them interested; you know, one can weary of even the most lovely things, and it is a theory of mine that if married couples wore masks there would be fewer unhappy unions."

The quaint suggestion made her smile. "If I thought you were serious, Jeff, I would get one," she replied.

Instantly his humour changed. "I think I referred to married couples," he retorted crushingly, and laughed at the furious look the reminder evoked. "Ah, now you are angry--a beautiful wild-cat, who would use her claws--if she dared."

The pale blue eyes challenged her; they had, at times, the curious quality of appearing to be dead, expressionless, as though made of stone. The girl was silent, held by the un-winking gaze of those lifeless orbs.

"Where did you ride?" he asked.

"South, through the gorges, to a high, flat-topped hill. I don't know the name."

"Battle Mesa," he told her. "Many years ago, the Hopi Indian tribe which dwelt in these commodious but somewhat incomplete apartments was almost exterminated there by Apaches--hence the name. Foolish of them to fight in the open--this rock stronghold is impregnable."

"You are very sure of yourself, Jeff, but one day the Governor will move," she said.

"When he does I shall know of it, and all his plans," he boasted. "You do not believe me. Listen: didn't I warn you that the mountain lion could be dangerous? Well, you know now that it is so. But for the advent of a stranger the coyotes would be wrangling over your broken bones at the foot of the Mesa cliff."

"You saw?" she cried in amazement.

"I have not been out of this place," he replied. "Yet I watched your pony, crazy with fear, carrying you to destruction. Luckily, a tall, dark cowboy, on a black horse, arrived in time to rope your mount and shoot the beast pursuing you. A capable fellow, that Mister Green, of the Double K."

The completeness of his information struck her dumb. She did not doubt him, for she knew how seldom he went abroad. It was incredible--and disturbing.

"I trust you did not tell him anything about yourself?" he continued.

"You should know," she answered.

"I do," he said quietly. "You even refused his escort, which was wise. I only asked--"

"To see if I would lie to you," she cut in passionately. "Precisely," he confessed. "I have faith in none, save, perhaps, Silver, who would die rather than betray me."

"A mere brute."

"True, but one who, at a word from me, would tear you to shreds," he replied. "Now, I must find a way to thank this man who has put me in his debt." The sneering smile expressed anything but gratitude. "In future, you must not ride alone--it is too dangerous."

"Life here is so damned dull, Jeff," she urged. "One might as well be--"

"In a penitentiary, were you about to say?" he enquired icily.

The blood left her cheeks and she said no more.

Chapter IX

A week passed and life on the Double K ranch pursued the even tenor of its way. The two punchers continued to patrol the northern boundary, but encountered no further sign of rustlers. Twice Sudden climbed again to Battle Mesa. His explanation to his companion--received with profane disbelief--was that the lady might give information of use when it came to an open clash with Hell City.

"Just wastin' yore time," Frosty said. "If she's Satan's woman, she'll be talkin' on his side; yu'll on'y get lies."

"Dessay yo're right, for once," the other conceded. "Allasame, she could let slip a pointer, unmeanin'."

A small discovery puzzled Sudden. Rummaging in his. war-bag one evening, he found that something was missing. This was a roughly printed notice offering the sum of five hundred dollars for the capture of--himself, wanted for robbery and murder. Though it had been issued some years earlier, the descriptions both of man and horse were sufficiently near to make recognition almost inevitable. It bore the name of the sheriff of Fourways, Texas. Sudden had brought it for a definite purpose, and he wished to use it in his own way. He went at once to the ranch-house.

"Well, Green, what's the trouble?" his employer asked. "None a-tall, seh--yet," Sudden replied, adding, "Yu hired me in the dark."

"I backed my judgment."

"Yeah, an' I'm askin' yu to keep on doin' that, no matter what tale comes to yu. Mebbe yu'll be shown what 'pears to be, an' is, certain proof, but I want yu to remember I'm playin' straight with yu, right to the end o' the game."

The rancher sat silent, considering the maker of this odd request, but he could read nothing in the lean, tanned, immobile face. From the first he had taken to this competent-looking stranger, instinct with youth yet moulded by experience into a man. Had his own son been of this type ..

He dismissed the thought with a gesture of impatience.

"This is all very mysterious, Green," he said.

"I'm askin' a whole lot, seh," the puncher admitted.

"Very well," Keith said. "After all, a person's past is no concern of other folks, except perhaps--a sheriff's."

Sudden was not to be drawn. "I'm thankin' yu, seh."

From his seat on the verandah the Colonel watched his visitor return to the bunkhouse, moving with a long swinging stride which told of supple joints and perfectly coordinating muscles.