Sudden Takes The Trail

"In the head, I reckon," Sloppy told him. "I asked, but he acted as if I warn't here. What can we do?"

"Nothin' but comb the country. I've sent for the Bar O boys. Damnation, I wish Jim was around." Meanwhile, Masters was rocketing towards the Dumbbell as fast as his horse could throw one leg in front of another.

Nevertheless, he did not allow anger to deprive him entirely of caution. He was about to beard, in his own den, an unscrupulous scoundrel who had at least a dozen riders in his pay. To be shot down would not help Mary Gray, and therefore he must tread warily. So, when nearing his objective, he turned from the beaten track and plunged into a stretch of timber which would enable him to approach unseen. With but a few hundred yards to go, he halted at a spot where he had a clear view of the ranch buildings, and waited.

Presently, whoops and yells, mingled with the shrill calls of horses, apprised him that the men were getting ready for the day's work. Soon they appeared, in twos and threes, to ride away in various directions. Dave counted a dozen, but decided to play safe. When twenty more minutes had passed, impatience overcame discretion.

"Reckon that's the lot. Anyways, a shade of odds don't scare me none." Leaving his pony within easy reach of the ranch-house, he stole up, took a quick look through the glass door leading to the living-room, and choked down a cry of contentment; the man he sought was there, alone, sitting with his back towards him, the remains of a meal on the table. Softly he turned the handle of the door, and finding it unfastened, slipped inside.

"Mornin', Sark." The rancher jerked round, to gaze with startled eyes into the muzzle of a revolver less than two yards from his breast, and behind it, a face conveying menace in every line.

"Stand up," came the order. "An' lemme warn yu that one sound will be yore last in this world o' sin." Sark obeyed; this fellow only wanted an excuse to slay him; he had no intention of supplying it. Stepping closer, Dave removed the other's gun from the holster, tossed it in a far corner of the room, and made sure it was the only one.

"Now we can talk," he said. "Where's Mrs. Gray?" Light dawned upon the cattleman. Jake had succeeded, and this young fool had jumped to the conclusion that he was the culprit. With well-simulated astonishment, he protested:

"How would I know? I ain't seen her since " Dave cut in: "Lyin' won't serve yu. I'm wantin' the truth. Talk turkey, or . . ." It was no mere threat, and Sark knew he was in deadly peril. One glance at the ice-cold eyes and rigid jaw told as much. He must make him believe.

"It's the truth," he said sullenly. "What's happened to her?" Dave explained, watching closely, but the other had schooled his features to a wooden indifference; he was more than aware of that keen scrutiny.

"I ain't heard a word of it," was his comment. "She's not here--you can search the place."

"Kind o' yu," Dave retorted ironically. "We're doin' that together, an' if there's any interruption, the Dumb-bell will be shy an owner. Sabe?"

"My boys are all out on the range, which is lucky for you," Sark scowled.

Obeying the deputy's gesture he led the way, the consciousness that swift oblivion stalked at his heels producing an uneasy sensation between his shoulder-blades. Room by room they went over the house.

"Waste o' time," Sark sneered, but made no other demur.He was beginning to recover his poise. No trace of the missing girl having come to light, it would be his turn to talk.

The examination of the bunkhouse, barn, and smithy proved abortive; they returned to the ranch-house.

"Well, I hope yo're satisfied I had no part in this affair," the rancher began aggressively.

"Don't get brash, fella," Dave warned. "Yo're still at the end o' the gun, an' I ain't noways convinced."

"Plenty brave, ain't you?" Sark jeered. "Shove that six-shooter aside an' we'll see if you got any guts." Masters laughed. "I was hopin' yu'd look at it thataway," he replied. "Ever since I first seen yu tryin' to hang Jim, I've been achin' to get my han's on yu." He placed his weapon on a chair near the window, put his hat over it, and stepped lightly back. "C'mon, mongrel." The invitation was superfluous; even as it was uttered, Sark sprang in, his evil face betraying his satisfaction. He was the taller, bigger of the pair and had no doubt of the result. He judged the other to be an impetuous, boastful boy, and promised himself that he would soon take the conceit out of him. But here again, he mistook his man; having obtained the opportunity for which he had thirsted, Dave did not mean to throw it away by over-eagerness. A shrewd blow met the first rush and Sark went down, to lie amidst the fragments of a chair he had encountered in his fall.

Sark got up, kicked aside the broken furniture, and advanced. Dave met him half-way, slogging with right and left, and his opponent replied in kind.

For the first ten minutes Sark fought furiously, and it seemed possible that he might overwhelm his younger and lighter antagonist; but lack of condition began to tell. The cowboy's muscles were hard, yet flexible, he moved quickly and easily, balanced on the balls of his feet, and there was not an ounce of fat on his wiry frame, whereas Sark was paunchy, heavy drinking had sapped his power of endurance, and already the unwonted violent exercise was forcing him to breathe through his mouth.

Sark felt that he was losing, and the realization infuriated and spurred him to fiercer effort. Back and fore they swayed, slipping, stumbling, but always striking, and the scrape of boots on the floor was punctuated by the thud of fist upon flesh.

The end came with dramatic swiftness. The cattleman, breathing stertorously, one eye completely closed, and ribs pounded to an aching rawness, knew that only a mighty stroke could turn the tide of the battle in his favour. Suddenly retreating several paces, , he lowered his head, and charged madly. It was a desperate device, and if the other man did not know . . .

But Dave had once seen a fighter, butted bull-like in the belly, carried away unconscious and badly injured. In a flash he flung himself forward, caught Sark round the knees, and rising, hurled him over his shoulder. Aided by his own impetus, the rancher soared through the air as though shot from a catapult, slid the length of the table, sweeping it clean, and crashed to the floor.

Dave stood over the bloodstained, senseless mass sprawled amid the broken crockery.

"If yo're dead I don't care, but if you ain't, an' I find yu were lyin' to me, this ain't a circumstance to what I'll do to yu," he rasped. "An' if I can't, Jim'll see to it." Taking his gun and hat, he went into the sunshine.

From behind the glass door of the living-room, a battered, demoniac face saw him depart, and spat out vitriolic curses from cut and swollen lips. Far from killing him, Sark's fall had not even deprived him of his wits, but the terrific impact had left him in no shape to continue the combat, and lacking the courage to risk further punishment.

"You've won, but what has it got you?" he scoffed. "I hold the trump card--the woman, an' for every hurt you've given me, she shall pay--in full. Jim'll see to me, huh? What if we've seen to him first, Mister?"

Chapter XVII

DAVE MASTERS rode away from the Dumb-bell sore in body but elated in spirit--he had punished one whom he despised and hated from the moment of their meeting. His satisfaction, however, was heavily discounted by the fact that he had learned nothing of the missing girl.

"It ain't got us no place, Splinter," he reflected aloud. "Where do we look now?" He reined in and surveyed the piled-up, verdure-clad terraces leading to the grey spires of the Mystery range. Somewhere in those dark recesses, Mullins and his rustlers were supposed to be hiding. The name stirred his memory.

"Jakes ! " he muttered. "He wanted her, too, or, mebbe Sark's usin' him. We gotta find out." He slapped his mount on the neck_ An hour's journey brought them to the foothills and here the difficulty began. Dave decided to ride along the edge in the hope of finding tracks but presently abandoned the plan in despair, and choosing a spot where there seemed to be some sort of an opening, plunged into the shadowed depths. For a space, progress was possible, though the dense growth and gloom made it slow, but Dave was doubtful since they did not appear to be rising. His fears proved to be well-founded when a vertical wall of rock barred further advance; what had promised to be a passage up was no more than a blind rift in the mountain-side.

"Damn the luck," he muttered. "Jake's got more savvy than I gave him credit for." There was nothing for it but to go back and try again. But getting out was no easier than getting in, and consumed a great deal of time and much of the rider's patience.

They emerged into the glare of the sun to recommence the task of finding ingress to the labyrinth. It was a wearisome business. Time after time, disappointment only re- warded them, and success seemed as far off as ever when they halted on the lip of a shallow, gravel-bottomed pool, fed by one of the several creeks from the high ground. Getting down to slake his thirst he saw the prints of shod shoes. Struck by an idea, he walked all round the water, but found no more hoof-marks.

"They didn't go on," he argued. "Shore, they might 'a' gone back, but why come here when there's other drinkin' places? Wadin' up the stream would blind a trail completely. Worth a trial, hoss." They splashed steadily along the creek and the young man became more sanguine when he noticed a branch which would have been in their way hanging broken and dead. Then came the inevitable barrier in the shape of a waterfall, leaping over a rock ten feet high. But to the left of it was a level ledge of short turf, and on it, hoof-prints.

"Mebbe we got somethin'," Dave told his mount.

The way was narrow, zig-zagged a great deal, but ascended steadily; here and there, the stump of an obstructing tree showed it to be man-made. At the end of an hour's climb, through a break in the trees, the rider saw a spiral of smoke against the dark background of pines higher up. Though it did not seem to be far away, another hour passed before he got a second view of it, this time close at hand. From the shelter of a leafy bush he studied his surroundings.

The trail he had been following ended on a gently-sloping shelf, and at the back of this was a solidly-fashioned, two-storied timber building. The situation was well-chosen; at the sides and front, the ground had been cleared save for the stumps of the trees which had been used in the construction, while the rear was defended by the steep face of the mountain itself. Completely concealed by the enveloping curtain of pines, it was an ideal haven for broken men. There was no sign of life until a rider appeared from the far side of the clearing, got down, and went in. The light was still sufficient for Dave to recognize him; it was Javert.

"That seems to fix it," he muttered. "I've located Mister Mullins." Night came at length, bringing a patch of light from the cabin, and Dave could delay no longer. Leaving his pony, but taking his rope, he stole to the back of the house, and, flattened against the wall, stood listening. Presently a faint glow shone from one of the two upper windows, and he heard a gruff voice say :

"I'm lettin' you have the candle while you feed." A door slammed, followed by the heavy tread of boots on a board stair. Evidently there was a prisoner, but was it the one of whom he was in search? When he deemed the coast was clear, he began to whistle, very softly, "The Cowboy's Lament," about his fondness for which Mary Gray had more than once chaffed him. A moment, and from above his head, a whisper floated down :

"Is is you--Dave?"

"Shore thing," he replied, and executed a miniature war-dance, for not only was it the Widow's voice, but she had used his first name. "Are you tied up?"

"No, but I can't leave without my baby." When the signifiance of this had seeped in, he swore under his breath. "They ain't got him," he told her.

A deeply-breathed "Thank God!" reached him.

"Can yu grab my rope, make it fast to somethin', an' slide down?" he asked, and when she eagerly promised, added an afterthought, "Fetch that food along--we'll need it." He heard the window open and sent the loop of his rope spinning up to her; she caught and went to secure it. A few moments and she was back, but he would not let her descend until he had tested the lasso by throwing his own weight upon it. Anxiously he watched her scramble on to the sill.

"Grip tight an' come down slow--it ain't far," he warned.

Nevertheless, she arrived with a rush, and would have fallen had he not been there to steady her.

"My hands--they're on fire," she murmured. "Oh, I never was so glad to see anyone, but I knew--I hoped--you would find me. I think I can stand now." Slinking along in the shadow of the building, they made a dash across the open space, and reached the spot where the horse had been left; there was no sign of it.

"You haven't mistaken the place?" the Widow asked. "No, there's the branch I tied him to--though that warn't really necessary," Dave replied. "It ain't broke." They searched the surrounding brush without success, and then Dave said, "Well, we'd never get out o' this wilderness on foot; I'll have to take a chance o' swipin' a pony, I guess."

"Better guess again, Masters," a sarcastic voice advised. "A deppity-marshal ain't supposed to steal horses, an' besides, it can't be did." Dave whirled round, right hand on his gun, but could see no one. The voice continued :

"Six rifles are coverin' you this moment, an' we're all hopin' you'll be obstinate. Show him, fellas." On all sides the moonlight glinted on gun-barrels thrust through the foliage. Dave shrugged--resistance would be just suicide.

"The pot is yores," he said.

They closed in on him and one took charge of his weapon. All were masked, a circumstance which brought a sneer of contempt to the deputy's lips.

"Yu can take that rag off, Mullins," he said to the leader. "Though I admit it improves yore looks."

"Clever, ain't you?" the ruffian replied. "If I hadn't somethin' else for you, somethin' more interestin', I'd blow you four ways this minit," he threatened. "But--wait."

"Whatever the cost, it'll be worth it," Dave said defiantly.

"you've reached the limit a'ready," was Jake's reply. "Tie him up an' shove him in the wood-shed." The young man had another inspiration. "See here, I've had nothin' to eat since mornin'; I won't last no time at the torture-stake if I'm starvin'."

"Give him grub; he'll need to be good an' strong tomorrow. I'll 'tend to the woman." Dejected Mary Gray preceded him back to her prison. By the fitful light of the candle--which was still burning--he surveyed her with evil exultation.

"Now what do you think?"

"That you are as great a liar as scoundrel," she retorted, and for a moment her sombre eyes regarded him. "And that you have not long to live, Jake Mullins." The sinister prophecy, uttered in a low passionless tone, startled the bandit for the instant, but he threw off the eerie sensation with a coarse laugh.

"Then I'd best make the most o' my time," he gibed, and moved towards her.

Appalled at his expression, she shrank back, whereat he laughed again, delighting in the mental anguish he was inflicting. Cowering against the wall, faint with horror, she knew that her fate hung in the balance. Then greed of gold triumphed over a still baser appetite. Dave's rope was still hanging from the window. He drew it in and proceeded to secure her wrists and ankles. "Safe bind, safe find," he quoted. "When I've dealt with yore lover, you an' me'll have another li'l pow-wow." He extinguished the candle and went out, leaving her broken, despondent, her mind now obsessed by one fear only--what would he do to the man who had risked all to rescue her? Dave, reclining with his head on a pile of kindling, was wakened in the morning by the opening of his prison-door, and blinking in the sudden light, saw his gaoler of the night before regarding him with an expression of amused surprise. He noticed that the fellow was no longer masked. "Got rid o' yore toothache, I see."

"On'y troubles me after dark," the other grinned, and then, "If you knew what was comin' you wouldn't be so peart."

"Breakfast is comin', I hope," was the jaunty reply.

The gaoler reached a plate and steaming mug from behind the open door. "Shore, I brung it, bread, fried hawg'sbelly, an' corfy." The man slackened the rope on his wrists a little, and stood, gun in hand, regarding him with reluctant admiration.

"Women an' food shouldn't be kept waiting," Dave remarked oracularly, and proceeded to polish off the meal in quick time. This done, he rolled a cigarette, lighted it, leaned back, sent a perfect smoke-ring quivering on the still air, and resumed the conversation : "How come yo're tailin' after a fella like Jake--a crook, an' not smart at that? Lookit the mess he made o' the bank affair."

"Save yore breath, Masters; you might as well try to corrupt me." The interruption came from Mullins himself, but if he expected the prisoner to be abashed, he was mistaken.

"Which would be a shockin' waste o' time--yu can't corrupt anythin' that's rotten a'ready. Beautiful, here, tells me yo're anxious about my health. Well, it's fine an' dandy." The sallow face darkened and became more malevolent.

"Good, a well man dies the harder," Jake replied.

Dave looked round. "I allus wanted to pass out in the sunshine," he replied coolly.

Jake's expression was that of a devil. "You'll shore git yore wish--an' regret it. Fetch him along, hoys." Four others appeared, leading horses. Dave was dragged to his feet, hoisted into the saddle of his own pony, and securely tied. The four mounted, and with their leader, closed in on him.

"So long, Beautiful," Dave said. "Pity yu gotta herd with the jackals--yu might 'a' been a reg'lar fella." The gaoler watched them disappear into the woods. "He's got grit, that boy," he muttered. "Too bad, but I can't do nothin'." Dave rode in silence, his face set and unreadable. Theywere following a faint trail, sun-splashed where a break in the overhead foliage permitted the rays to penetrate, but for the most, darkened and dismal.

Presently they arrived at a small level clearing of sand and short grass hemmed in by low bushes, and here the leader dismounted.

"This'll do fine," he said. "Plenty o' sun--as I promised." Dave stared about him curiously; there were no trees of any size adjacent. Mullins read his thought.

"We ain't goin' to stretch yore neck--that would be too easy, an' wouldn't near pay what I owe you," he said, and to his men, "Git busy." Hauled from the saddle and flung to the ground in the middle of the clearing--an operation which resulted in sundry bruises for those who performed it--the prisoner was still undaunted. Hands and feet were fettered, but his tongue was free. He knew that he was about to die a lingering death; if he could provoke a swift one .. .

"Yo're a cowardly cur, Mullins," he taunted. "If yu had the pluck of a rabbit, yu'd deal with me yoreself, but yu get four other white-livered houn's to do the job yo're afeard to handle." For an instant he thought he had succeeded, for Jake stepped towards him, gun gripped, stark murder in his eyes. Then he laughed, and motioned to his minions.

Their procedure was singular. Two of them held the victim down while the others attached strong cords to his wrists and ankles, and drove four stout pegs into the earth. His other bonds were then removed, each cord pulled tight and secured to a peg, leaving him spreadeagled on his back, arms and legs at full stretch. Jake, having inspected the knots, stood looking down with sadistic satisfaction at the man he was about to leave to a dreadful fate.

"Take yore fill o' sunshine yo're so fond of," he said, and with a loathsome leer, "While you frizzle here, I shall be with--Mary."

"Jim Green'll send yu to hell for this," Dave promised.

"I think you'll beat me to it. In two days I shall come an' look at yore scattered bones, picked clean by wolves, coyotes, buzzards or--somethin'." Dave could not see that his glance had gone to a little mound of sand at one side of the clearing. He shot his last arrow.

"Two days? yore own bones will be moulderin' by then --yu got the death sign on yu a'ready." The shaft went home. With a savage curse, the bandit climbed into his saddle. When one of the band asked a question, he shook his head.

"They'll happen on him, sooner or later," he said. "An' I hope it'll be later." They departed, and for some time, Dave made no attempt to move; it was possible they were watching, and he had no desire to afford amusement. Presently he raised his head the few inches he was able, but no cackle of mirth greeted him, only the chattering of the birds. Desperately he strained at the cords, but the pegs were immovable, and the men who had tied the knots had done their work thoroughly. Moreover, his position prevented him obtaining any purchase. Repeated efforts failed to loosen the tie-ropes even a fraction, and at length he gave it up as hopeless, and lay there, gazing into the blue dome in which the sun hung, a polished brazen disc, with no vestige of cloud to dim its radiance. In a few hours it would be directly above him, the vertical rays like jets of flame, sucking the moisture from his body.

"A couple o' days," he mused. "Fella can last that long without grub, but water . . ." The sun had climbed higher, scorching his bared skin, and his limbs, held in that one posture, were becoming numb and cramped. Wearily he closed his eyes, but the rays seemed to pierce the lids, causing a dull ache.

But however dire his extremity, a young, healthy man instinctively clings to life, and Dave was no quitter. Well-nigh blinded by the incessant glare, his flesh blistered,and his whole frame crying for water, he lay, supine, listless.

A tiny bite, followed by another, aroused him. Twisting his head, he could just see his right hand; several insects were crawling upon it, and more were coming. Ants ! The significance of Jake's last words was clear enough now. They had found him, these terrible little scavengers, who in tens of thousands would invade every inch of his carcase, and leave it only when nothing remained save bones to bleach in the burning sun. In that one bitter moment of realization Jake had his revenge, and then Dave steeled himself to meet the agony to come.

Chapter XVIII

WHEN the marshal set out to search for his assistant, he rode straight to the Dumb-bell ranch-house. Sark, he argued, would be the first to fall under Dave's suspicion, and he hoped to pick up the missing man's trail there. To his surprise, he found the place deserted, but for the black cook, who eyed his badge of office with evident trepidation.

"Where's yore master?" Sudden inquired.

"I dunno, sah," was the reply. "He's out--deys all out." The marshal took out a coin, spun it in the air; and caught it; the darkie's eyes gleamed at the glint of the gold. "It usually pays to tell the truth, Juba--that's yore name, ain't it?" he said, and when the negro nodded, "Right. Mebbe yu can help. Sark had a visitor yestiddy, a young fella named Masters. What happened?" Juba hesitated, glancing right and left fearfully. The coin flashed into the air again, and seemed to act as a spur.

"Neber see him come," he began. "I hear high voices in de front room. Dey's fightin' wid dere han's. Dey slam one anoder all ober de place, an' den de young one t'row de boss clean ober his shoulder an' he lit 'mong de brekfuss t'ings; I neber did see a table cleared so quick. De boss is out, lyin' pow'ful still on de flo'. De young fella takes one look at him, grabs his gun, an' goes off whistlin' a chune."

"He'd walk into hell doin' that," Sudden smiled. "Where'd he head for?"

"I neber see, sah; de boss come to life right after." Sudden flipped the coin into the air again, this time towards Juba. "Put that some place yore boss can't steal it," he said. "An' yu needn't to mention I called." Cutting short the cook's protestation of gratitude and obedience with a wave of the hand, he rode away. What would be Dave's next move? Obviously, he would seek Mullins. Cutting across the straight line between that and the hills, he presently came upon hoof-marks, and, at intervals, traces of some white substance.

For a while the white "sign" was plentiful, enabling him to travel quickly, but then it became infrequent--evidently the supply was running out in more than one sense. However, it led him across an area of hard ground where a horse would leave no tracks, and so to the fringe of the black mantle of timber masking the mountain-side, and a cleverly-concealed opening in what appeared to be an impenetrable wall of undergrowth. This was the other approach Dave had guessed at, and was much more direct than the one he had been at such pains to discover.

Leaving the sunlight behind, Sudden paced steadily along a path which swung right and left to lessen the gradient. For an hour the climb continued, and then came the scrape of a slipping hoof, followed by an oath. Sudden swerved behind a convenient bush, got down, and drew a gun. Round a bend, sitting his horse slackly, a rider appeared.

"Git 'em up, friend." The unexpected command made the fellow start, but he did not hesitate to obey. The marshal stepped out of the shadow, his own weapon levelled. "Hand her over, buttfirst," he said, and when this had been done, "Now talk, straight an' fast. Where's Mullins' hang-out?"

"Never heard " He halted abruptly as the menacing gun lifted an inch.

"One more crack like that an' I'll be diggin' a hole for yu," was the harsh reminder.

"It's up the trail a piece," the other said sullenly.

"Seen anythin' of a fella named Masters?"

"He was locked up all night, an' this mornin' Jake an' four others took him away; they come back with a spare hoss--his'n. What happened, I dunno." Sudden got into his saddle and gestured meaningly with his gun. "Yu an' me is goin' to look for him," he announced. "An' if we don't find him yu'll be outa luck. Lead on."

"I'll do my best, but--knowin' Jake--I figure it's a waste o' time," the man said. He swerved off to the east, forcing a way through a jumble of vegetation, to pull up after a while where a tiny rill from the heights above spread to form a moist patch. "There's tracks here, but o' course ..."

"Yu say Masters was on his own pony?" The guide nodded. Sudden examined the hoof-prints. "We've struck it," he said, pointing to one of them. "Dave allus had a cross cut in one shoe for luck." They rode on, came to a deeper pool in a rock hollow which broke the passage of a larger stream, and paused to drink. Jake's party had evidently done the same, for there were more prints. A few hundred yards brought them to the clearing, and the prostrate form of the man they sought.

"Gawd-a-mighty ! " the rustler breathed. "Ants ! He's a goner." But Sudden had seen a slight movement of the puffed lips, and sprang down, crying, "Cut the ropes, an' lift him up." A moment sufficed for this. "Run him to the pool we just passed." Half dragging, half carrying, they got their burden to the water, leaving the horses to follow, but before they reached it, the rescuers also were having a taste of what Dave had suffered; in scores of places at once their skins were sharply punctured by the voracious little pests, with whom Dave's body was still alive.

"Hell ! " the guide swore. "The beggars must be damn' near all teeth."

"We'll see if they can swim," Sudden replied. "Get right under." Pushing his friend ahead of him, he waded into the pool, and their companion lost no time in following. The cool water was a heaven-sent anodyne for their smarting bodies and speedily relieved them of the unwelcome visitors. Not until they were sure of this did they emerge and spread their saturated garments, and themselves, in the sun to dry. By this time, Dave had regained his wits.

"Jim, yo're a wonder," he said. "I owe yu "

"Nothin'," Sudden told him brusquely. "There's a tree just outa Welcome . . ." Knowing his friend, Dave said no more, and turned his attention to the other man. "Hello, Beautiful, I never expected to see yu again. How come?"

"Rowley's the name," the rustler returned uncomfortably. "I'm right glad we was in time."

"It was him fetched me here," Sudden said.

Dave nodded; he had a pretty clear idea of what had taken place. "Mister, I'd thank Satan hisself for gettin' me out'n that fix," he confessed. "I'm mighty grateful, even if yu are on the other side." He held out a badly-swollen hand; Rowley grasped it gingerly. "I ain't," he replied. "I quit soon as I saw you spread out there. Bumpin' off a fella you don't like is one thing, but my skin's white, an' I got no use for torture."

"I'm goin' to like yu," the deputy said. He regarded himself ruefully. "I must 'a' lost a lot o' weight."

"Yu've put some on, by the look o' yu," Sudden corrected.

He had just finished drying and reloading his guns and that of the rustler, and now he passed the latter's over tohim, and went to see how their clothes were progressing. The man's eyes widened at this proof of confidence. Dave's face was distorted into what was intended to be a grin.

"That's means yo're adopted, Beautiful," he said.

"He was takin' a hell of a chance."

"Jim's used to that, but he don't often guess wrong."

"I'll bet high he can fight."

"Ask Jake Mullins."

"I ain't honin' to see that fella no more."

"Allasame, I'm afraid yu gotta." This from Sudden, who had rejoined them in time to overhear the remark. "As yu know, Rowley, there's a li'l woman in Jake's han's who badly needs a friend. Mc an' Dave can't go back, but yu can, without bein' suspicioned. It won't be long afore we return an' smoke out that swarm o' hornets. Will you do this?"

"Glad to," Rowley replied readily, and turned to Dave. "Say, you ain't got a gun; take mine."

"That's right kind o' yu, but he won't need any," Sudden put in. "What he must have is a mount."

"I can hoof it in. My bronc havin' broke a leg, I just naturally has to shoot it."

"0' course, but yu gotta tote in yore gear, or it'll look phoney. Can yu ride if the hoss don't have a saddle, Dave?"

"I can ride him if he don't have a back," the young man retorted.

"Right, then, we're takin' different trails. yo're ridin' to Welcome to round up some o' the boys. How strong is Jake, Rowley?"

"He had thirteen, countin' him, but he's lost one."

"Better rope in some o' the Bar 0--we may have to reckon with the Dumb-bell outfit as well," the marshal told his deputy.

Dave rose with a bound, grabbed his clothes and began to scramble into them. "Beautiful, I'll give you any price yu name for yore hoss an' gun," he offered.

"Don't notice him, Rowley, he's just a kid," Sudden smiled, and to Dave, "I know how yu feel, boy, but yo're in no state to go shootin' up Sark. Because yu licked him once "

"How d'yu hear o' that?"

"Followed yu there, didn't see Jesse, but his cook told me." Dave chuckled throatily. "Awright, I give in. S'pose yo're goin' to the Dumb-bell, huh? Don't yu touch Sark--he's my meat."

"I ain't layin' a finger on him, but I wanta know what he's doin'. I'll be back by the time yu an' the others arrive." They dressed and left, the black bearing a double burden until they neared the hang-out. There Rowley departed, taking his saddle and bridle. The two friends continued along the trail by which Sudden had entered. Here, the marshal had a parting word.

"Let that cayuse know that yo're wearin' spurs. I'll be expectin' yu early in the mornin', an' that won't be any too soon for Mrs. Gray, I'm thinkin'." The reminder sent the young man scampering away like a scalded cat. Sudden turned his horse towards the Dumbbell range, to learn what he might of its owner's movements.

Chapter XIX

THE owner of the Dumb-bell had spent the day nursing his hurts, both mental and physical. The fact that his hired assassin had not reappeared to claim the price of his villainy did not add to his peace of mind. In the late afternoon a messenger came, bringing a closed scrawl : Yore cousin, Mrs. Gray, is in my hands. She will be released on payment of four thousand dollars, cash. you must come alone, or there's no trade. If I don't git the money, she will--suffer.

MULLINS.

His lips curled as he read. "She will--suffer," he repeated. "Pretty neat, for Jake, that. I guess any woman can savvy what it means, an' my charmin' relative oughta be real pleased to see me. Four thousand, double the agreed figure, huh? Mebbe, Mister Mullins, mebbe." With an added expletive, he thrust the paper into a pocket and went to give certain instructions to his men. He returned to find Lyman awaiting him, an unwelcome sight.

"What's the trouble now?" he asked testily.

"None so far as I'm concerned," the lawyer replied. "You seem to have found some. Has our friend, the marshal, been trying to alter the geography of the face God, or the Devil, gave you?" Sark frowned darkly. He seas almost certain that Lyman knew; he had probably been there some time, and would have wormed the story out of Juba. So, for once, he told the truth.

"No, the next worst thing--that cub of a deputy. Took me by surprise. I'll cut his heart out for it."

"Put him to sleep first; it makes surgery easier, and safe --for the operator," Lyman ironically advised. "Well, how are matters progressing?"

"Smooth as silk," Sark said, and produced the missive he had received from Mullins.

"It's a lot of money for us to lose," the lawyer commented. "When are you collecting the girl?"

"Early mornin'; one more night in Jake's company oughta put her in the mood to make me welcome. Besides, holdin' that brat, we got her cinched, an' with Greensettled--nobody around her will be able to talk down to me." The baleful, deep-sunk eyes of the little man rested on him with malicious contempt; he hated this thing he had created for his own purposes, realizing that it would turn and rend him at the first opportunity.

"So you're prepared to pay off the mortgage?" he said quietly.

The question brought Sark to earth again with a bump. In his exultation, he had forgotten this dried-up specimen of humanity whose feeble fingers held him in a steel vice. With a sulky look, he replied :

"You know I ain't got the dollars, Seth."

"That four thousand would help, eh?"

"I gotta give it to Mullins--no other way " He stopped. Lyman had risen, his face suddenly furious. "You lie," he accused. "I was outside the bunkhouse door just now and heard what you told your men. Trick Jake out of the money if you can, but planning to put it in your own pocket is double-crossing me, and for that I'll have you hanged." The violent outburst did not have the usual effect. "We go together, remember," Sark retorted.

"You're even a bigger fool than I thought," came the sneering reply. "What can they charge me with? It can't be shown I ever saw Jesse Sark, and when you came to me, knowing all about him and his affairs, why shouldn't I accept you as the real Simon Pure?"

"You wrote the will."

"At your uncle's dictation, of course, as his man of business. Who's to prove he didn't sign it? You needed money to pay your debts and for running expenses, so I lent it to you on the security of the ranch--a perfectly natural and lawful proceeding. No, I'm the innocent victim of your imposture, and all I can be blamed for is too easily believing you the man you claimed to be." The blood suffused Sark's features. He knew it was the truth. This wily old scoundrel had kept himself well in the background, and his specious excuses would leave him hisfreedom. Like a wild beast in a trap, he sought a way of escape, vainly, until the cold, jeering voice suggested one.

"I had nothing to do with the murder of Amos Sark," it went on. "My evidence, given for the State, while not incriminating me, will swing you high and dry, Ezra Kent, and then I shall foreclose and the Dumb-bell will be mine." Though he did not know it, the speaker had sealed his own fate. Caught in this spider's web of intrigue, Sark saw that, whatever happened, so long as this man lived, he himself would never be more than a mere tool, a means to an end. In a frenzy of fear and hatred, he snatched a knife from his belt, and as the lawyer turned to go, drove it to the hilt between the thin, bowed shoulders. With a choking grunt, Lyman sank in a huddled heap on the floor. Panting with passion, the murderer stood over him, teeth showing in a wolfish grin.

"Do yore squealin' in hell," he hissed.

Callously he jerked out the weapon, wiped it, and replaced it in his belt. Then he lifted the slack form, carried it upstairs, locked it in an empty room, and put the key in his pocket. The lawyer's horse he hid in a disused shed.

"To-morrow I'll bury him an' the hoss," he decided. "An' if Juba knows he was here ..." His expression boded ill for the negro. "Wonder where them damn docyments is?" Absently he wiped a wetness from his fingers on the front of his shirt and swore when he saw the red stain. "Curse it; can't go a-courtin' in clothes that's all bloody; I'll have to spruce up." It was late when the marshal arrived at the Dumb-bell to find it wrapped in silence. One gleam of light from the kitchen behind the bunkhouse alone showed. There he found Juba, and learned that Sark and his men had ridden away earlier, where, the cook did not know.

"Any visitors to-day?" Sudden asked.

"Sho figure I see Mistah Lyman's grey outside de house, but she ain't dere no mo'." Sudden rode away, but once out of sight, returned to the ranch-house. The door of the living-room not being fastened, he went in, and lighted a candle on the table. He did not know quite what he hoped to find, but it was certainly not the sinister pool of red on the carpeted floor. Blood; and not yet dry. There was a splash a yard distant, and others, leading to the door, the handle of which was moist and sticky. He followed the trail of spots up the stairs to a locked door which a sturdy thrust of his shoulder burst open. On the floor, face downwards, a man was lying. Setting down his light, Sudden knelt beside him, noting the ugly gash in the black coat and the spreading stain in the cloth.

"Stabbed in the back," he muttered, and turned the body over. "Lyman, by thunder ! " He could detect no sign of life. Hurrying to the kitchen, he told Juba of his discovery. "I'm afraid he's dead, but see what yu can do," he said. "I'm goin' after the red-handed rat who did it." It was obvious that Sark had thrown off the shackles, and if he had taken his men to the hide-out in the hills, some important move was impending, and he could not doubt that this had to do with the presence there of Mary Gray.

"I shore hope Dave has stayed on that borried bronc," he told himself. "If he ain't, we'll be too late." Dave had done not only that, but managed to convince the animal that speed was an essential factor in their affairs. Nevertheless, since riding a half-wild cow-pony without a saddle, and with only a hackamore to guide it, is both a difficult and uncomfortable feat, it was a very sore and weary young man who staggered into the Red Light, grabbed a glass and bottle from another customer, poured, drank, and poured again.

Twenty voices asked the same question.

"Yeah, Jake's got her hid up in the hills. Jim's there, an'I've come for help. Ned, can yu get the boys organized while I rope in the Bar O?"

"you snatch a snooze--yo're done," the saloon-keeper said. "I'll fix things. Take him away, Sloppy."

"Is Jim all right?" the little man wanted to know, as they went to the office.

"Shore, when I left him."

"An' Mrs. Gray?"

"How could she be, in the power of a rat like Jake?" Dave retorted irritably. "Jim thinks Sark planned the kidnappin'." Sloppy swore--a thing he did seldom. "If that's so, I'll . .."

"What?"

"Nothin'. I guess I was talkin' wild. Turn in; I'll roust you out in good time."

"An' roust me out a hoss, rifle, an' six-shooter," Dave said. "They got mine."

"That's bad."

"It's goin' to be--for them," the deputy promised.* * The twenty-four hours following the frustration of her escape were passed by Mary Gray in a state of dull apathy.

Then, after a day of deep despair, came a shaft of light which dissipated the clouds and sent her to her knees in an agony of gratitude. A different man fetched her supper, and as he put it down, whispered, "Yore friend has got away, but he's comin' back." Before she could say a word of thanks, he had hurried from the room. Long after he had gone she sat gazing into the gloom, the food untouched. Happiness possessed her.

It was after midnight when Sark reached the hang-out alone, to find only Mullins to receive him.

"Where are yore fellas?" he asked.

"Oh, they're around," was the answer. "Got the ransom?"

"Why else should I be here? Have you got the girl?"

"Why else should I send for you?" Jake countered. "Want-in' to make shore?"

"you won't git the coin until I do."

"Pretty early to wake her, but mebbe she won't mind, seein' yore errand," Mullins said, and pulled out a key. "Top o' the stairs--door on the left."

"Ain't afeard I'll run off with her?" Sark sneered.

"You wouldn't git far," was the reply, and the rancher realized why the bandit leader was alone. He grinned to himself as he went up; his men were "around" too.

Mary Gray had lain down in her clothes, and the rasp of the lock awoke her instantly. She stood up, trying to pierce the darkness. Then a familiar voice said:

"Don't be frightened, Mary; it is Jesse." He stepped in, lighted the candle, and looked round. "A filthy hole," he commented. "Well, I'm here to take you out of it. On'y got the news this afternoon, an' I had to raise the money."

"Money?" she repeated.

He handed her the note he had received. "Jake values you at four thousand; I wouldn't part with you for ten times that." She read it, trying to fathom what lay behind this amazing situation : one of the two men she most detested and feared holding her to ransom, and the other paying it.

"Let us go then," she said quietly.

Sark laughed. "It ain't all that easy," he replied. "I gotta settle with Jake first--an' with you."

"With me?" she cried.

"Shore," he said eagerly. "you know what I want, Mary --allus have wanted. We can ride to Drywash from here, git hitched, an' you'll be mistress o' the Dumb-bell again."

"Is that part of the price Mullins is demanding?" Sark seized on the suggestion. "In fact, it is," he lied. "I didn't wanta speak o' that. Jake's a queer chap. He thinks Amos treated you shabby, an' this is his way o' puttin' things right. I guess he's soft on you hisself."

"But he is willing to part with me for four thousand dollars. Well, I refuse to be sold."

"You ain't considered that letter very careful," Sark protested. "Up to now these fellas have behaved decent because they expected to make money out'n you. Take that chance away an' . . ."

"They will kill me?"

"No, but you'll live to wish they had," was the brutal reply. "If yo're relyin' on a rescue, Green an' Masters are both dead, an' nobody in Welcome knows where you are." She knew he was lying--Dave was alive and coming back to her. She must gain time.

"I won't leave without my child," she said.

"That's talkin'," Sark replied. "Fair enough too. I'll go get him." He hurried downstairs. "She won't budge without the brat," he told Jake, who had looked up expectantly. "Where is he?"

"In Welcome, likely; we couldn't be bothered with a baby. She thought we had it, an' that was all the whip we needed."

"Damnation! You've bungled it, as usual," Sark raged. "Didn't I tell you "

"Since when do I have to take orders from you?" Mullins broke in. "If you don't want the woman, I dessay Welcome will raise the ransom; them ground-owls think a lot of her." The rancher scowled, mentally promising to teach the insolent fool a lesson presently. "Got any ideas?" he inquired.

"Plenty. Tell her the kid won't be returned until she's tied to you, an' if that don't work, hawg-tie an' carry her off; gives her a choice of knots," Mullins finished with a laugh.

Sark returned to the waiting girl. "Jake won't hand over the child until we're married," he said. "I argued, but he won't listen." She knew now that Dave had told her the truth--the boy was safe. The knowledge stiffened her resolution.

"Then I shall remain here," she said.

Her obstinacy, and beauty, roused a devil of anger in his breast. Two quick strides and he had gripped her shoulders, bruising the flesh with the intensity of his grasp. His fierce face, aflame with desire, was thrust towards her own, the hot eyes scorching her.

Eyes distended in dread, she fought to free herself, but the relentless clutch paralysed her muscles. She tried to scream, but the sound died in her dry throat.

"Mine," he muttered hoarsely. "Mine, right now " Quick steps outside, the door was flung open, and Jake came in. One swift glance brought an oath.

"Hell, Sark, this ain't no time for foolishness," he said, an underlying threat in his tone. "I want a word with you, pronto." The cattleman flung his captive away so violently that she fell. Without even a look at the prostrate form he followed Jake outside.

"Damn you," he said. "Can't a fella kiss his bride without you buttin' in? What's eatin' you?"

"I've just had news that a party of over a dozen armed men under Nippen is headin' for here."

"Well, you ain't scared of a passel o' blunderin' tradesmen, are you?"

"Not so as you'd notice, but there's some can throw lead, an' the marshal is showin' the way." This wiped the scorn from Sark's face. "The marshal?" he queried. "But he's--dead."

"Then he must have a twin. Galt seen him, an' he's got good reason to know the gent. What bothers me is how he got wise to this place, an' where's the Bar O?"

"They figured on on'y havin' yore lot to deal with," Sark suggested. "That was a miscalculation---my boys are handy. I'll call them." He took a whistle from his vest pocket as Jake whirledon him. "So that was yore idea, huh?" the rustler cried. "To git away with the gal an' the gold." His revolver leapt out. "Hand over tha four thousand or I'll send yore sneakin' soul to torment." Sark was cornered, and knew it. He reached into a pocket, produced and passed over a big roll of bills which the other stowed away with a scornful grin.

"You can summon yore men," he said, "but I'm stayin' near you an' at the first sign o' crooked work, out goes yore light. Sahe?" The rancher blew a shrill blast before he replied. "No call for me to remain here," he then remarked. "I've kept my side of the bargain, even to payin' you double the agreed sum--a dirty trick on yore part. I shall take the woman an' set off at once."

"You don't say," was the ironical rejoinder. "Listen, my friend : you got me into this, an' yo're goin' to git me out; with yore riders we can stand 'em off. If I'm catched, I'll take the hobbles off my tongue, an' you know what that means--for you. Now, I'll tie the gal up, 'case she Bits any rash ideas." He went in, replaced the bonds, lifted and laid her on the bed. "Likely there's a ruckus comin' an' lead will fly; you'll be wise to lie still." The two men went downstairs, where they found the cowboys fraternizing with the bandits.

The rancher raised a hand for silence. "Boys, that swine of a marshal from Welcome is on the way to clean up this joint. I guess we'll all have a word to say about that, huh?" A rumbling growl of assent answered him. "Good, our other business here can wait till we've sent him an' his jackrabbits back to their holes. Keep under cover, shoot straight, an' remember, it's them or us." With oaths and extravagant threats they turned away to take up their positions. Jake gave orders, but his thoughts were on something else--that reference to "other business." He had no doubt the attacking force would be beaten off, but--what then? The Dumb-bell men outnumbered his own and their leader would be in a position to dictate terms, which would most certainly include the return of the ransom.

"No use crossin' a river till you reach it," he reflected, but at the back of his tortuous mind a plan was taking shape.

Chapter XX

DAWN had come, and a grey light was creeping over the sky, putting out the stars and bringing a chill wind when the marshal encountered the Welcome contingent, its strength almost doubled by nearly every man of the Bar O outfit. They forgathered on the fringe of the forested foothills, and halted to arrange the advance.

"What do you suggest, Jim?" Nippert asked.

"There's two ways o' gettin' to the hang-out, an' I'm proposin' we split up an' use 'em both. The second party will arrive after the first has opened the ball, an' attackin' from the rear, should be a surprise for 'em."

"That's sound reasonin'," John Owen agreed. "The Bar O will take care o' the second trail, an' we won't be long after you, Jim." So it was decided. The marshal, Dave, and the Welcome men began at once the ascent of the mountain-side, while the cowboys sped away in search of the other approach.

Though the sun had not yet appeared, there was light in the open, but in among the trees, it was still night. Sudden, on his black steed, leading the way, seemed to those following to be merely a moving patch of the shadow which encompassed them. Strung out in single file--for the trail was narrow--progress was slow, and silent save for the creak ofleather as a rider shifted in his seat, and the sound of treading hooves.

Steadily the climb proceeded, but it was a long and tiring one, and by the time they reached their destination, the slanting rays of the rising sun were painting the tree-tops with gold. But the riders did not think of this; they were there to kill.

A short distance from the bandits' stronghold they dismounted, concealed their mounts in the bushes, and advanced on foot. Nippert chuckled when the clearing was in sight.

"Kind of 'em to leave them stumps--they'll give us mighty good cover," he remarked. "There don't seem to be no one about. D'you s'pose we could rush the place, Jim?"

"Too risky--they may be waitin' for us," the marshal said. "Spread out an' pick yore positions, but don't shoot till yu have a target." Lined out in a half-circle fronting the building they crept forward, each man selecting the shelter he fancied. When they were all settled, Sudden fired into the air. Almost at once the door was flung back and Mullins appeared, rifle in hand.

"Who are you, an' what do you want?" he called.

The marshal stood up. "yu know me, an' I want Mrs. Gray," he replied.

"Why should you think she's here?"

"I told him so." Masters rose as he spoke, and his presence there seemed to strike the rustler dumb; it was as though he had seen an apparition. With an effort he fought down the feeling.

"The gal's gone," he said. "Sark fetched her, an' they're off to git married at Drywash." The statement produced an oath from Dave, and an incredulous shrug from the marshal. "We'll see for ourselves," the latter replied.

"Then you'd better come a-shootin'," Jake snapped. "An' here's one to begin with." With the words, he swung his rifle up and fired, the mis sile failing to find the mark by a mere inch. Sudden replied, shooting from the hip, but Jake was taking no more chances, and his bullet only buried itself in the slammed door. Immediately, gun-barrels were thrust from the unglazed windows, and a succession of spiteful cracks awoke the echoes. The fight was on.

The early exchange of shots did no damage; the light was still poor, and the necessity for avoiding exposure interfered with accuracy. Movement on either side received instant attention, and both parties being chary of providing opportunities, the firing became spasmodic.

Moments passed and then the sun glinted on a cautiously pushed-out rifle-barrel. They fired together, saw the weapon slide forward as though released by nerveless fingers, and flash to the ground.

"That's one to me," Sudden said. "An' one less to them. I figured the Bar O would be here by this," he added.

"They got twice the distance to travel. How did yu hit on the other way?"

"Got Jake to lay a trail for me," Sudden smiled, and then explained.

"Cunnin' like a fox," the young man complimented. "I dunno why I trust yu." Time dragged on, the sun became more searching, and the position of the assailants correspondingly uncomfortable. Cramped with crouching behind scanty cover, with parched throats--they had not thought to bring water-bottles into the fray--they sweated and suffered, but not in silence. Nip-pert, remembering his cool bar, with its shelves of satisfying beverages, spoke feelingly of the unusual state to which he was reduced, and ended :

"We'd oughta rushed 'em right away, Jim."

"If we had yu might be needin' a drink still more," was the sardonic reply. "With the Dumb-bell crowd, they're all of two to one. Pass the word to cripple the door." The Welcome citizens, glad of a definite mark, obeyed the order eagerly, and sent a hail of lead into the unoffendingtimber. This outburst of activity provoked an immediate response from the defenders.

"Leave the door to the others," Sudden told his companion. "If them woman-stealers think we're concentratin' on that, they may get careless." They did; finding no bullets came towards the windows, and anxious to reply to the bombardment, several of the besieged showed themselves for an instant and paid penalty. The door itself, one hinge demolished, was sagging drunkenly, and attempts were being made to barricade it when a burst of gun-fire from the rear of the building advised those within that they were in danger of being surrounded. The Bar O outfit had arrived and was getting to work. Mullins, comprehending what had happened, inquired for Sark.

"Seen him go upstairs," Galt informed.

With a black scowl, Jake took the steps three at a time. The door of Mrs. Gray's prison was ajar, and he heard S arks' voice :

"This is our chance to git off--I've bin waitin' for the moment. My hoss is hid in the brush handy. All the men is busy at the front; they won't see us."

"you are ready to desert your riders?"

"They can take care o' theirselves. I'm thinkin' o' you."

"My friends are outside," she replied. "I shall wait here for them." The contempt in her eyes, coupled with the knowledge that time was precious, stripped him off his mask. In a voice trembling with exasperation, he cried, "They'll be too late. Yo're comin' with me, like it or not, an' before we've bin long together, you'll ..." A burst of flame drowned the remainder of the sentence, and also the footsteps of the man who slid into the room, gun in hand. He saw the bound girl cowering on the bed, the insenate bully standing over her, and struck once, swiftly and surely, with the butt of his weapon. Sark crumpled at his feet, and he kicked the inert mass in sheer savagery.

"A double-dealin' coyote," he said. "But he's right about one thing--this ain't no safe place for you--nor me."

"Have you--killed him?" she whispered.

"Reckon not," he replied, with a hard grin. "But I will if you say so." She shuddered but did not reply. The jarring crash of the firing was becoming incessant, but so far the window of this room had escaped attention. Jake tested this by allowing his hat to be visible--having first removed his head from it; no shots came. He then picked up a rope from the floor; it had been Dave's the girl remembered with a sigh, and a portion of it had served to bind her. Working swiftly, he looped it beneath her armpits.

"If you sing out, or struggle, I'll stop yor mouth with--kisses," he threatened.

Silently she suffered herself to be carried to the window and lowered to the ground, where Mullins immediately followed her. As yet, they had been unobserved, but now, with twenty yards of clearing to negotiate, discovery was inevitable. The abductor had thought of this. Slinging the helpless girl across one shoulder, he strode forward, a jeer of triumph on his face; they would not dare to risk hitting the burden he carried.

And so it proved, but at the instant he disappeared among the enveloping trees, the marshal and his deputy sprang up, and regardless of the bullets which greeted them, sprinted after him. They reached the shelter of the brush safely, and thrusting through, were in time to see the quarry fling the girl on the neck of a horse, leap into the saddle, and drive home the spurs.

"Damnation, he's done us," Dave panted.

Sudden dropped to one knee, levelled his rifle, and squeezed the trigger. The horse staggered and went down, but the rider jumped clear, dragging his captive with him. One sweeping slash severed the cord confining her ankles, and she was forced to her feet.

"Run ! " Jake hissed. "If those hombres catch us, youdie." He flashed the knife before her eyes, and gripping an arm pulled her after him. "Hell burn their souls, I'll beat 'em yet." That he would stop at nothing, even murder, in his desperation, she did not doubt, and strove to obey, stumbling blindly at his heels through thorny thickets which tore her garments and lacerated the flesh. In and out they wound, and she divined that her captor was chiefly concerned to baffle pursuit, while at the same time, heading in a definite direction. Unnoticed, she contrived at intervals, to let fall a fragment of her tattered frock. The din of the battle behind them was growing fainter when they emerged into the open again. Torn, breathless, with aching limbs, she sank wearily. But the ruffian gave her no respite.

"Get on, if you wanta live," he ordered.

They had come out on a scrub- and tree-studded declivity, along the face of which ran a narrow ledge, a perilous passage even for a pedestrian, since one slip could send the traveller hurtling down the steep slope to the pine-tops hundreds of feet below. The girl gave one glance and shrank back. Jake gripped her shoulder and pointed to some black wheeling dots high in the sky.

"Them's buzzards--waitin' for one of us to fall," he told her. "Now, git goin' an' watch out, or it'll be you." Meanwhile, the marshal and his deputy were floundering in the labyrinth of undergrowth into which the cunning cattle-thief had led them. Broken twigs and trodden grass were all they had for guidance, and these must be searched for, causing delay. Came a time when even these slight indications ceased and they looked at one another in dismay. Then Sudden chanced upon a shred of cotton material impaled on a thorn. Dave recognized it.

"Mary's dress," he said. "C'mon." A few yards further they found a second, and others followed.

The pointers enabled them to put on speed, with the result that they reached the ledge in time to see the hunted man and his companion vanish round a bulge some distance along it. The marshal swept the high ground which commanded the path the fugitives were taking, and came to a decision.

"Yu keep on his tail, Dave," he said. "This looks like a hump in the mountain, an' if I can cut across it, there's a chance o' headin' him off." He began to climb, while Dave resumed the chase. Unhampered, save by the necessity for care, he soon had the satisfaction of sighting the quarry. Goaded by curses and threats, the girl was doing her best, but the exertion in the terrific heat would have taxed the powers of an ox, and she was utterly spent. Aware of this, and confident he had thrown off his pursuers, Jake told her she might rest a moment.

She slumped to the ground and closed her heavy eyes. A low curse made her open them again; Jake's face was towards the trail they had traversed; he was listening intently. Round a curve less than fifty yards away a familiar figure appeared, moving steadily towards them. With a murderous glare the bandit snatched out his revolver and fired. The deputy saw the movement, and pulled the trigger of the rifle he had no time to raise. He felt the wind of a bullet on his cheek, and then saw the other's weapon jerk into the air and drop into the abyss; his lucky shot had torn it from the fellow's fingers.

Dave pressed on, his rifle ready; the miscreant might have a second six-shooter, and be waiting to make a better job of it. But Jake's one thought now was to save himself. With only a knife, he was no match for an armed man who had every right and reason to shoot him like a dog. Dragging his prisoner behind him so that her body should shield his own, he resumed flight, revolving in his crooked mind a desperate expedient to secure his freedom. With that, and the ransom money, he could make a start elsewhere. It involved sacrificing Mary Gray, but there were other women, and she had been, largely, a means to an end.

"I'd tire of her in a month," he muttered, and snatched a glance backwards.

Dave was overhauling him; he must act soon. Just ahead was a likely spot for his diabolic design; the descending slope was less abrupt and about thirty feet down was a clump of scrub-oak, jutting out from the inhospitable surface of the mountain. Opposite this he stopped, lifted the girl, and laying her lengthwise on the ledge, deliberately pushed her over and darted off, ducking to avoid possible shots.

But the sole spectator of this undreamt-of-development was too stunned to shoot. Horror-stricken, he watched the fragile form of the woman rolling helplessly to what seemed to be certain death. Only when she collided with the oaks and hung there, perilously poised on the verge of a deep vertical dip, did he find his voice.

"For God's sake, lie still," he shouted.

There was no sign that she heard; if she had fainted, came to her senses, and stirred . . . The possibility sent a chill along his spine. Slinging his rifle, he lay down, face to the incline, and edged himself over the brink of the ledge, clinging with fingers and toes to any inequality which might lessen the speed of his descent. Outspread, clawing at the rock-face with cut, blistered hands, he gradually lowered himself.

"If I get outa this, I'll never be mor'n a yard away from a rope again," he communed.

He screwed his head round to find the bunch of gnarled trees only a few feet below, and a moment later he was squatting beside the girl, calling her name, and gently wiping the blood from a cut on her forehead. Fearful that she might move, he put an arm about her, and soon her eyes opened.

"Oh, Dave, thank heaven you're safe," she murmured. He was deeply stirred; after all she had suffered, her first thought was for him. His clasp tightened.

"There's no fella in the world worthy of yu," he said softly. "But will yu let me try, Mary?" Bending, he kissed the upturned lips. "Yu don't mind me doin' that?" The question brought a tremulous smile. "I couldn't--very well--slap your face, Dave," she whispered.

"I'm plumh loco," he said contritely, as he released her wrists, and noting the angry red weals the cord had caused, added viciously, "I hope Jim ain't too late." For a while he was silent, cudgelling his brain to find a way out of their predicament. To go for help would mean leaving Mary alone, and that he would not do; Jake, finding himself intercepted, might come back, and there was another danger--Argus-eyed--in the sky. Sudden would come in search of them unless ... He dismissed that thought too. He shifted a little and an ominous crack warned him of the risk they ran by remaining there; the trees could not be deeply-rooted.

"We gotta climb up," he announced, and was aware of a shiver she could not conceal. "It ain't far, an' I'll be right ahead o' yu. Scared?"

"yes," she admitted. "But with you ..."

"We'll make it," he assured her.

Standing up, he drew his knife and set about the task of cutting footholds, as far as he could reach, at short distances where the rock was sufficiently soft. Then he helped her to rise.

"Hang on to my belt whatever happens," he cautioned. "Tread where I do, an' don't look down." Inch by inch, as it seemed to the rescuer, they crawled up, resting every few moments while, clutching with one desperate hand, he scooped fresh primitive steps with the other. Though she strove to lessen it, the dragging weight of the girl imposed a terrible strain, and before long every nerve and muscle of his body was pulsing with pain.

The fierce sun swept the sweat from his skin almost before it was formed, and the stone he had to grip burned his hands. Eyes glued to the cliff, he had no means of measuring their progress, but he appeared to have been climbing for endless hours when at length his fingers found the edge of the pathway. With a final effort, he pulled himself andhis burden to safety, and collapsed, conscious only of a blessed release from exertion. An anxious whisper aroused him.

"Dave, you are not hurt?" Mary was bending over, endeavouring to remove the caked dust from his face, and there. was that in her eyes which restored strength to his overtaxed frame. He stood up, shakily.

"I'm all right," he protested, "but I feel as if I'd been drug at the end of a rope for about a million mile." The smiling eyes sobered. "I'm worried 'bout Jim. Figure yu can walk a bit--if I help yu?"

"You've done enough of that already," she returned. "I can manage quite well." Notwithstanding, when he slipped an arm around her, she seemed content to let it remain.

The marshal, also, was having a testing time. His experiment of taking a short cut over the hump of the hill was sound enough, but not easy of accomplishment. Nevertheless, he hurried, for soon after he had left Dave, two reports, one faint and the second a little louder, had reached him, and he was troubled.

He stumbled on down the incline and presently saw that his deduction had been correct--the ledge lay before him. Concealed behind a bushy shrub, he waited. The moments slid by, and he was beginning to fear that he was too late after all when, out of the silence, came the crunch of hasty feet. Sudden stood up, his rifle directed at the unsuspecting traveller.

"Reach for it, Mullins," he ordered.

The fugitive stopped as though struck by a bullet, gazed in amazed consternation, and slowly raised his hands. How in the Devil's name the marshal had contrived to be there he could not guess, but with the hate in his heart was now a sickening dread.

"Where's Mrs. Gray?" Sudden asked sharply.

"Left her back on the trail--she was hamperin' me," Jake said sullenly. "I was on'y takin' her from Sark."

"yeah, dawg robbin' dawg," was the caustic retort. "We'll go find her. If I hadn't promised to hang yu, I'd use a ca'tridge right now. March, an' don't do nothin' to make me change my mind." Mullins marched, his captor close at his heels. His situation was critical, as well he knew. He tried to arrange his jumbled thoughts and hit upon a loop-hole, only to return to the one appalling fact--he was walking to his death.

As they drew nearer to the spot where he had so inhumanly sacrificed the Widow, his haggard face hardened into a despairing resolve to risk all on one last throw--a gamble to save the life already forfeit. But the man behind must not suspect.

Head down, shoulders drooping despondently, he slouched wearily along until they came to where the path doubled in width for a few yards, giving him space to carry out his design, and, with a grunt of pain, clasped his hands to his middle, and nearly fell. Then, as his guard stepped closer to investigate, he straightened, knocked aside the muzzle of the rifle with one hand, snatched his knife from behind his belt with the other, and aimed a lightning stab at Sud-den's breast. Unexpectedly as was the attack, it did not take the marshal entirely unawares. Flinging up the rifle, he parried the knife-stroke with such force that both weapons left their owners' grasp, and before he could draw one of his guns, Jake's long arms were pinioning his own.

Locked in a close embrace, the men struggled for mastery. Powerfully-built, tough as hickory, each knew that he was fighting for his life. Mullins, infuriated by the fact that he had again failed to outwit the man who so often baulked him, seemed to be imbued with the strength of a madman.

Slipping, slithering, sometimes almost on the dizzy brink of the chasm, they wrought on, now one, now the other, gaining some slight advantage. There was no sound save of hard-drawn breath and rasp of boots trying to keep a hold on the ground. In vain Sudden strove to free an arm, but the bandit clung like a limpet, forcing him to the edge of the trail. The man's physical power was phenomenal, and the marshal realized that unless he could break that hold the pair of them would perish. His heel turned on a loose stone, a braced knee gave, and he saw the unholy gleam of triumph in the ferocious, bloodshot eyes.

"You lose, Sudden," Jake gasped. "Go feed the buzzards, you bastard." His exultation was premature. The marshal glimpsed the void just behind him and knew he was within seconds of death. With a supreme effort he thrust the other back, swinging round on to solid ground again. With a savage roar of disappointment, Jake--who now seemed careless of his own life--made another violent attempt to hurl both to destruction. He was within an ace of succeeding when the marshal spoke:

"Don't shoot, Dave." Jake's head turned, and involuntarily the tension of his grip relaxed. In a flash, Sudden wrenched his right arm free and struck for the angle of the chin. Though travelling but a few inches, it was a crippling blow, driven home with every ounce of strength left in the striker's body. The bandit's eyes dulled, his arms dropped limply as he reeled drunkenly away to sprawl, face down, in the dust. The impact sent Sudden tottering to the cliff-side, where he leant, panting, and, for the moment, powerless.

"I'm beat--I give in," the prostrate man grunted hoarsely.

Laboriously he got to his knees, and then, with amazing speed, sprang up and turned, the marshal's rifle--on which he had chanced to fall--in his grasp. He pulled the trigger, but Sudden dropped swiftly, one hand sweeping to his hip; the gun barked once, Jake spun round, a foot swung over nothing, and--silence.

Sudden lurched to the welcome shade of a bush and sat down, greedily gulping air into his depleted lungs.

"Never knowed breathin' was such a pleasure," he told the world. "I feel like I'd been in the path of a stampede." There Dave and the girl found him when they arrived, having witnessed the final scene of the tragedy.

"Saw yu scrappin' an' we certainly hurried," the young man explained, and with an apologetic look at the lady, "Guess I swore some."

"I thought it was a prayer," Mary smiled.

"Mebbe it was--kind of," Masters agreed with relief.

"Shore seemed yu'd take the big jump together, Jim." The marshal's eyes creased. "Yu saved me, Dave."

"But I warn't here."

"He thought yu were--I played trick for trick," Sudden replied, and told of his ruse. "It was him or me, but I'm sorry he went that way. What happened to yu?" His face hardened as he heard. "Men can die too easy," he said. "Well, that's one rogue we're rid of, but there's a bigger--who used him--to deal with."

Chapter XXI

THE sun was dipping westwards when they again neared the rustlers' retreat. The crackle of rifle-fire had ceased, but the acrid odour of burnt powder still permeated the air. They waited for a while, listening.

"Reckon the fight is finished, but we gotta make shore who's on top afore we go surgin' in--we might be too welcome," the marshal decided. "I'll scout around." It did not take him long to reach the edge of the clearing, and he saw at once that the outlaws had been defeated; the men passing in and out of the bullet-scarred building belonged to the attacking force.

"Hi, Reddy," he called.

The Bar O foreman's grimed, sweat-streaked features lit up when he saw who had hailed him. "Jim, yo're a sight for sore eyes," he cried. "yu missed all the fun." Sudden's smile was satiric. "Yeah," he replied. "Where's Jesse Sark?"

"We found him upstairs. Someone had bent a six-gun over his cranium, but he's come alive agin, an' is he mad? He claims Mullins did it, an' carried off Mrs. Gray. Ned sez it's so, an' that yu an' Dave went after 'em."

"We brought her back."

"An' Jake?"

"He had a bed fall--three hundred feet, mebbe, on to rocks," was how the marshal put it.

"Well, that saves soilin' a rope," the foreman said harshly.

They passed through the battered doorway into the living-room to be greeted with a rousing cheer, and a storm of questions which both men refused to answer.

Downstairs the gathering had grown strangely quiet. Austere-faced men whispered to one another, their attention centred on the marshal, Nippert, and John Owen, who were conversing together. On a chair, his head clumsily bandaged, Sark sat, sullenly watching the proceedings, and at the other end of the room was a group of five men, their hands bound. Dave joined the three leaders, who asked about Mrs. Gray.

"She's asleep," he informed, and jerked a thumb at the prisoners. "What yu goin' to do with 'em?"

"They swing," Owen said shortly.

"One of 'em don't," Dave said. "He saved my life."

"He's a cattle-thief an' was fightin' agin us," the rancher persisted.

"If it hadn't been for him, yu wouldn't be here," Dave retorted.

The marshal settled the matter by loosing the rustler's wrists. "This fella goes free, John. He was done with Mullins before the fandango started, an' on'y returned here to oblige me." Before Owen could raise any further objection a diversion occurred. Sark, rising shakily to his feet, demanded to be told who was in charge.

"Speak yore piece--we're all listenin'," Nippert replied. "I wanta know why some of my men have been shot, an' the rest driven off?"

"S'pose yu tell us how yu an' yore outfit come to be here a-tall," Sudden suggested drily.

Sark reached out the note he had received from Mullins. "There's the answer," he cried. "When I got that, I raised the coin an' come hot-foot to release her from the scoundrel. I fetched my men in case he tried any tricks." Sudden read the document and passed it to his companions. "Where's the money?"

"I paid it over, an' if you mutton-heads hadn't butted in, she'd 'a' bin at the Dumb-bell hours back, where I'm takin' her soon as she's fit to go."

"An' willin'," the marshal added. "She's safe now, an' in the meantime, we're goin' to try yu, Sark. Better sit down, it may take time."

"Try me?" the cattleman repeated. "On what charge? I've explained my presence here, an' I didn't fire a shot at you. There's no law "

"We're makin' one. Nippert, yu'll act as judge; select yore jury. Better take his gun." Right and left the accused man looked and saw none but stern faces. Primitive as the procedure was, it had a gravity which brought inward qualms. He fortified himself with the reflection that they could know nothing. His mind travelled to the Dumb-bell, and the body in the empty room; he should have hidden it. If that damned nigger went poking about ... The voice of the judge recalled him.

"Well, marshal, we're ready if you are." Amid complete silence, Sudden stepped forward and pointed to the accused. "This man calls hisself Jesse Sark," he began. "His real name is Ezra Kent. Sark died in the penitentiary at Bentley before his uncle was killed. I have a writing from the Warden to prove it." The calm statement produced ejaculations of incredulity from the hearers, and every eye was on the lolling, disdainful figure in the chair. Though the blow was a severe one, Sark had, since he learned of the marshaI's visit to Bentley, been more or less expecting it, and he had his answer ready. He forced a laugh.

"So that's why you went?"

"How did yu know I'd gone a-tall?"

"Oh, dicky-birds tell tales."

"Yeah, dirty dicky-birds," Sudden retorted. Some of the Welcomers sniggered. "An' yu sent Squint to close my mouth--for keeps?"

"Never heard o' the gent," Sark replied.

"Well, it don't matter. Let's get back to the trail we were followin'."

"Suits me," the prisoner agreed. He was beginning to feel more comfortable. "I'll tell you somethin' you couldn't 'a' discovered at Bentley because they don't know it. Kent robbed the bank where I was employed, an' bein' a friend o' his, I was--unjustly--roped in as an accomplice. We were sentenced to the same term, an'. sent to the pen together. On the way, we arranged to swap identities--it was mainly a prank, to put one over on the Warden, but we had a dim idea it might help when we got out. It worked; the prison people were a mite careless, mebbe, but we were pretty much the same age, build, an' not unlike in appearance. So when Kent died he was buried as me, which was a complication we hadn't figured on. That makes yore writin' worth nothin' a-tall." The marshal looked at the impostor almost with respect --the fellow was cleverer than he had supposed. He did not for a moment credit the story, but it sounded plausible enough.

"Is there anyone who can prove what yu say?" Beneath his breath, Sark cursed himself; the man who could have supported his fabrication was lying stiff and stark at the Dumb-bell. He made a negative gesture.

"When I come out I resumed my own name, an' natur ally, I didn't talk none," he replied. "I don't know "

"There's one here can show he's tellin' a pack o' lies," a voice interrupted, and Sloppy slouched from the wall. "What d'yu know about this?" Sudden asked.

"That he ain't the fella he's purtendin' to be." The man in the chair regarded this new witness with derision. "He musta found Jake's private store--he's drunk," he said.

"I ain't neither," Sloppy rejoined. "An' even if I was, I'd reckernize my own son." He gazed around, enjoying the sensation his statement had evoked, and then, "Guess all o' you think I'm soused, but yo're wrong." He shot a shaft at the accused. "What was yore father's first name?" The question jolted Sark sadly; he felt the ground slipping again from beneath his feet. He could not answer.

"How was yore mother called before she married?" The badgered man pulled himself together; he must find some excuse. "I can't remember these details--I had a bad illness

"Liar," Sloppy burst in scornfully. "Yo're just a pore fraud; you did oughta studied up the Sark family a bit more. Well, folks, I'm Ray Sark, on'y brother to Amos, an' father o' Jesse; I'm tellin' you that tinhorn there is no son o' mine." Nippert stilled the hubbub by rapping on the table with the butt of his gun, and turned a severe eye on the witness.

"If you've knowed all along this warn't Jesse Sark, why ain't you spoke afore?"

"I was scairt, Ned," the little man admitted. "You see, it was me found Amos first of all that mornin'. I'd recent come to Drywash, an' was on my way to try an' patch things up atween us. I can see him now lyin' there at the side o' the trail. He was hurt mortal, but just before he passed out, he opens his eyes, an' sez, `So it was you? Well, it won't put nothin' in yore pocket, nor that time-servin' pup who blotted the name o' Sark; it all goes to Mary.' Thatsuited me, but I'm in a jam; if it gits knowed I was on the spot, folks'll shore figure--like Amos--that I shot him on the chance o' gittin' somethin'. So I starts his hoss for the ranch, an' lit out. When I learns o' the will givin' the Dumbbell to my son, I'm scairt wuss'n ever, it bein' a bigger reason for my committin' the crime. Jesse havin' died--which I don't know then--an' this fella takin' his place, don't clear me o' that suspicion. So I took the coward's course, let my whiskers grow, an' drifted to Welcome--where I was a stranger, hopin' somethin' would turn up. It did--Jim come." This halting recital elicited a laugh of ridicule from Sark. "He ain't drunk, he's mad," he said. "Likely, ain't it? A fine, well-stocked range is left to his boy an' he lets another man grab it. He claims to be Ray Sark, my father; I say he is not. Looks to me as if he wiped out Amos an' is tryin' to pin the job on me." Silence followed the accusation and Sloppy got some doubtful looks. Then it was seen that the marshal was holding a small brass box on the palm of his hand.

"I found this on the spot where Amos Sark was killed," he said to the prisoner. "Do you recognize it?"

"I remember you showed it to me."

"An' yu wanted to buy it. Why?"

"Just curiosity," the other shrugged.

"To find out if the initials E. K. were scratched inside the lid, huh? Well, they are." Sark's face remained expressionless. "Means nothin' to me," he said, and turned sharply on Sloppy. "Got anyone to say you are Ray Sark?" The little man was taken aback. "Mebbe if I peeled this hair off'n my face somebody in Drywash would remember me," he said doubtfully. "But I warn't there long."

"How comes it Mary Gray don't remember, her uncle?" Sloppy grinned. "Because she ain't seen him, as such, since she was a tiny toddler, which you'd 'a' knowed if you were the fella you claim to be."

"I did know, I was just testin' you," Sark returned coolly. If he could only gain a respite, reach the Dumb-bell, perform a certain task, find and destroy the lawyer's papers... . He resolved on a bold stroke. Pointing to Sloppy, he went on, "You heard him. Tells you he's Ray Sark, but can't prove it. Tells you I'm not Jesse Sark, but if you give me time, I can show that I am. If Seth Lyman was here "

"He is," croaked a reedy voice.

The men grouped around the doorway stood aside to allow the passage of a strange pair. A big negro, helping, almost carrying a shrivelled weed of humanity in a skirted black coat and blood-stained boiled shirt. From his waxen-white face, deep-sunk eyes flared feverish hate, and a dreadful determination. With the inevitability of Death itself he moved forward and stopped in front of the accused.

The gathering watched their progress in amazed silence. Upon Sark their appearance was petrifying. Open-mouthed, and with a clammy fear constricting his heart, he gazed distraught at the man he had left for dead in the Dumb-bell ranch-house. In those vengeful eyes he read his doom and his trembling lips framed a frantic appeal :

"Seth, save me," he whispered. "We can still make good. I swear I'll " A hideous laugh from the lawyer stilled the remainder of the sentence.

"Hark to him," he taunted. "Begging mercy from one who has tasted the torments of Hell to come here and destroy him." He paused for a moment, gathering strength, and then, stabbing a finger at the cowering wretch in the chair, "There sits Eza Kent, liar, thief, traitor, and murderer. Listen: I always coveted the Dumb-bell range, and when Amos Sark made me his man of business, I saw my way. I meant to use young Jesse, but when he died in gaol, I had to content myself with this--thing. Forging the will was a simple matter, and the fact that the heir was not known around here seemed to make success certain." He halted again, and the spectators of this weird scenestood dumb while this fragile creature, obviously dying on his feet, fought for time to compass his vengeance. Sark, fascinated, could not drag his fearful gaze from those blood-drained lips which were condemning him to the darkness of eternity.

"Killing Amos was no part of my plan, but Ezra couldn't wait. We got the range, and nobody suspected until Welcome gets a new marshal and this fool has to fall foul of him; if he'd made friends instead of foes . . ." His glazing eyes never left the object of his scorn, and the consuming hatred which had enabled him to endure the terrible ride from the Dumb-bell still sustained him. The pitiless accusation continued.

"you paid Mullins to steal the girl, meaning to force her into marriage and so make your title good; you failed. You offered five hundred dollars for the marshal's murder, and failed again." In his shaking hand he thrust out a small sheaf of papers. "You even failed to find these--my confession, and the real will, leaving everything to Mary Gray." He grimaced horribly. "I told you they were in a safe place and so they were--the safest place in the world to a bungler like you, right under your nose; you stepped over them a dozen times a day at the ranch. Ha! that touches you." Bitter chagrin came and went in the tortured eyes. The lawyer's voice weakened to a mere whisper. "You tried to kill me, and I--live--to--hang-you." The last words were almost inaudible. His head fell forward, and the sagging form collapsed in Juba's grasp. He lowered it gently to the floor, and bent for a moment.

"Sho' is daid--dis time," he said.

No one spoke, but he marshal removed his hat, and the others followed suit.

As one awakening from an evil dream. Sark wrenched his gaze from the body, and furtively scanned the grim faces around him. All told the same story; he could see no spark of compassion in any one of them. An appalling despair bit into his brain. Nippert spoke:

"Ezra Kent, have you anythin' to say?" He heard himself talking incoherently. "It was Lyman's plot. I had to do what he said--I was in his power. When I refused, at the ranch, he threw a gun on me; I struck him in self-defence. For God's sake, have pity."

"What pity did you show Amos Sark?"

"Lyman forced me " he began, and stopped as he saw the judge was looking at the jury.

In turn each shook his head, and a sweat broke out in beads of ice on his brow. His body shook as with an ague. From his swollen, livid face the eyes protruded, and the squirming lips transformed it into a hideous human travesty. Spellbound, the onlookers saw him try to rise, but his knees buckled beneath him, and with a choking cry of "Mercy ! " he pitched headlong across the man he had slain. Nippert was the first to reach him. His exclamation was brief.

"Finished," he announced. "Died o' sheer fright, seemin'ly. I never see the like. Where's Jim?" The marshal had slipped out unnoticed in the excitement, but returned in time to hear a flippant comment by a Bar O puncher:

"Less trouble for us. How many ropes needed now?"

"Nary a one," Sudden told him. "Mister Death has had a plenty big harvest a'ready."

"Allasame, them fellas are rustlers," Owen objected. "They stole my steers an' shot down my boys; I'm hangin' 'em."

"Yu'll have to catch 'em first. I figured that was how yu'd feel, so I turned 'em loose. They're leavin' the country, an' I'll bet they ain't delayin' any." The rancher glared at him. "You'd no right to do that, even though you are marshal."

"I ain't--I resigned before I sent 'em off. Sloppy, didn't yu give Ned my star?"

"Done forgot," the little man said, with an unrepentant grin. "Things was happenin' so quick."

"So yu see, John," Sudden continued, "if yu must have a necktie party, yu gotta be content with me." He smiled as he spoke, and the very absurdity of the suggestion brought an answering laugh all round, save from the cattleman. The saloon-keeper put the matter bluntly:

"After what he's done, I reckon the Bar O owes him that." John Owen was a just man. "Yo're right, Ned," he admitted. "Sorry I spoke outa turn, Jim. Welcome can't do without you. Shake." Their hands met, and Sudden said something they were to recall later :

"The man who can't be done without ain't been born yet."

Chapter XXII

IT was some days later, and Welcome, having duly celebrated the defeat and dispersal of the outlaws, resumed the uneven tenor of its way.

The marshal and his deputy, chairs tilted back, were taking the morning sun in front of their abode. For some time they had smoked in silence, and then Dave said abruptly :

"When do we hit the trail, Jim?"

"Day or two," the other replied absently, and then, "We? What yu talkin' of? yo're stayin' here."

"I--am--not. Hell ! why couldn't yu leave things be 'stead o' rakin' up ancient hist'ry, an' unsettlin' everybody?" The marshal stared at him. "Yu talked this over with Mrs. Gray?"

"No," the boy snapped. "What yu take me for?"

"The biggest chump the Lord ever put breath into," Sudden said pleasantly, and got up.

Despondently the young man saw him stroll along the street, pausing now and then to chat with a passer-hy. "Jim don't understand," he muttered miserably.

He was wrong, the marshal understood very well. The Widow's face lit up when he entered, but fell again when she saw that he was alone.

"Dave been in?" he asked casually.

"No, and he didn't come yesterday," she told him, adding with a brave show of indifference, "He must have lost his appetite."

"S'posed to be a reason for that, ain't there?" Sudden queried, and noted the quick flush. "Guess it's liver in his case--he needs exercise, an' he'll get it when we start our travels again."

"He's going away?" The cheeks were white now. "But why?"

"Dave's changed the last day or two. He's that modest I don't hardly know him--just an ornery no'-count puncher he calls hisself. Talks dangerous, too, about makin' a pile o' money, pronto."

"Whatever for?"

"I dunno. Mebbe he wants somethin' that seems out of his reach." The girl's eyes glistened. "Jim," she said softly, "you are the best friend I ever had. Do you think ?"

"I'll fix it," Sudden broke in, and beat a rapid retreat. As "he approached the lounger outside the office, he quickened his pace.

"The Widow is hurt," he said, and turned his grinning face aside as Dave leapt from his chair and raced for the restaurant.

Flinging open the door, he dashed in to find the lady leaning against one of the tables, and the look which welcomed him was something a mere man is lucky to see once in a lifetime. As his hungry arms closed about her, he cried :

"Mary, what's the matter? Jim said yu were hurt."

"Dear old Jim," she smiled. "I was--you were going away." His hold tightened. "But, girl dear, I'm just "

"An ornery no'count puncher," she quoted.

"Yeah, an' yu got a ranch. What else could a fella do?" From the shelter of his shoulder came a muffled whisper. "I've got a heart, too. A fella could stay and look after--them both."

* * *

That same evening, in the privacy of his own parlour at the Red Light, the saloon-keeper tried again to persuade the mashal to remain.

"Shucks!" Sudden smiled. "Ever hear o' the Wandering Jew? He had the travel itch, same as me, an' there's no cure for it, ol'-timer; I gotta go." The saloon-keeper gave it up. "Welcome will find it mighty hard to part with you," he said glumly.

* * *

In the morning, the town awoke to find the marshal had solved the problem for it and himself by disappearing during the hours of darkness. The coming of daylight found him half-way to Drywash. A single farewell look, and he turned to face the lonely trail he had once more elected to tread.

THE END