Sudden The Range Robbers

Sudden - The Range Robbers

Oliver Strange

*

Chapter I

The desert! As far as the eye could reach it stretched, alternating swells and levels of greyish-white sand, broken only by occasional ridges and hummocks of sun-scorched rock, protruding from the surface like the bared bones of a giant skeleton. Stunted mesquite, sagebrush, and the tortured forms of cactus, weird of leaf and beautiful of flower, were the only evidence of vegetation. Over all danced a shimmering heat which, flung down from a brazen sky and reflected back by the sand, made the eyes ache and the brain dizzy.

Following a faintly-defined trail came a wiry little cow-pony, pacing wearily but steadily through the burning sand, and picking its way without the apparent assistance of its rider, who, humped forward in the saddle, seemed oblivious of everything.

An hour passed, and the pony's ears pricked up and its pace quickened slightly. Aware of this, the rider looked up and saw that the weary desert tramp was at last coming to an end. On the horizon now the vivid blue of the sky deepened to an almost black serrated line, which he knew to be a range of hills. Far as they still were, they carried a message of hope, and the traveler pressed on.

Gradually the character of the desert changed. The sand became dotted with an occasional scrub-oak and clumps of bunch-grass, while the mesquite bushes were bigger and more numerous. Another hour of steady plodding, and the edge of the desert was reached. The trail entered the foothills, twisting and turning as though to escape the grasping tentacles of the sand, which, like an encroaching sea, sought to engulf it.

A whirring rattle, and a venomous flat head shot into view from the roots of a mesquite bush at the side of the trail. Instantly the pony jumped sideways into the air, coming down with all four legs stiff as rods. The rider, taken unawares, was almost hurled from the saddle, but gripping the animal with instinctive knees, kept his seat. His left hand streaked to his side, there was a sharp report, and the snake's head flew from its body. Replacing the smoking weapon, the man applied himself to quieting his mount, which was again attempting to buck. Snatching off his hat, he slammed the pony over the ears with it, and a cloud of alkali dust enveloped the pair.

`Playin' yu never saw a rattler before, eh?' he said, in a slow, soft drawl. `Thought I'd done broke yer of that sort o' foolishness, yu animated bone-bag.'

Another larrup from the hat accompanied the words, and the pony, changing its tactics, reached round and took a snap at the chap-covered leg of the rider, only to encounter the thrust-forward heavy wooden stirrup with a jar, which effectually discouraged any further attempt of the kind.

`I shore thought yu knew better than to try that,' admonished the soft voice, sarcastically. `Now yu have had yore play, s'pose we get on: I'm 'bout as dry as a second-hand sermon.'

They paced along over a plain trail through the increasing vegetation, and presently the animal, scenting water, began to trot. Passing along a narrow gully with precipitous sides, they emerged on the banks of a stream, shallow enough now, but with a wide sandy bed which showed there were times when it might justly be called a river; and indeed, when the snow on the mountains melted, Two Feather Creek became a raging torrent.

The horse walked into the water and drank eagerly. The man only gazed at it reflectively, a sardonic smile on his lips.

`An hour back, yes, an' thank yu,' he soliloquized, `but to spoil a thirst like mine with that slush now. Why, it can't be more than a mile to a drink.'

Starting his unwilling mount, he rode to the other bank and followed the trail across an open stretch of prairie at an easy lope. In a little while he came in sight of a collection of wood and adobe structures strung along the two sides of a dusty wallow called by courtesy a street.

`That'll be Hatchett's Folly,' he muttered. `It shore looks it.'

Years before, a wandering prospector, finding gold on the banks of the Two Feather, made for the nearest settlement, got gloriously drunk, and proclaimed a new Eldorado. Scores of eager fortune-hunters followed him, and a town sprang up with the mushroom speed of Western enterprise. But the gold proved hard to find and scanty in quantity; many of the seekers got killed in quarrels among themselves, or by raiding redskins, and others migrated in disgust. The town of Hatchett's, named after the discoverer, became Hatchett's Folly, and only the coming of the cattle saved it from extinction.

To the newcomer the place presented the familiar characteristics of the frontier settlements. The same squalid shacks, litter of tin cans, board sidewalks, and ever-prevailing alkali dust. On the largest of the buildings was a rudely-painted sign which read: `The Folly Saloon.'

`That shore is the best name for a s'loon I've struck yet,' commented the stranger, as he dismounted and secured his pony to the hitching-rail outside. `Town appears to be 'bout dead,' he added, and in fact, with the exception of two men loafing in front of a board edifice further along the street, which called itself an `hotel,' there was no one in sight.

The bar of the `Folly' occupied the back of the room, facing the entrance, a strategic position which gave the barkeeper an opportunity of preparing for trouble before it arrived. At either end of the space in front of it were the tables used for the various games of chance promoted by the establishment, or desired by the customers. At one of these tables two men were playing poker. The only other occupant--the dispenser of liquids--instantly transferred his interest from the game to the new arrival.

He saw a tall, lithe man of well under thirty, with a clean-shaven face tanned to the color of new copper, keen steel-blue eyes, and an out-thrust chin which spoke eloquently of determination. There was a suggestion of humor in the little lines round the eyes and at the corners of the firm lips. The leather chaps, blue shirt with loosely-knotted neckerchief, wide-brimmed Stetson and high-heeled boots, denoted the cowpuncher, but the heavy belt with two guns--the holsters tied down to facilitate easy extraction--might mean the gunman.

The barkeeper absorbed all these details while the object of his scrutiny was reaching the bar. He was a quick observer--the nature of his occupation required it. Without a word the stranger spun a dollar upon the counter, and the barman pushed forward a bottle and a glass.

`No, seh,' said the customer softly. `I just naturally hate drinkin' alone, an' yu are havin' one with me, Babe?'

The barkeeper grinned understandingly, added another glass, and replaced the bottle with one from the back shelf. The visitor poured himself a generous three-finger dose, sent it down his throat at a gulp, and refilled the glass.

`Good stuff,' he said approvingly. `That desert o' yores is some fierce.'

`I don't claim to own her, but she shore is,' replied the other. `Come a long ways?'

`Right from where I started,' was the reply, with a smile which robbed the snub of its venom.

`An' I reckon yu will keep a-goin' till yu git there,' said the barkeeper pleasantly, falling into the other's humor.

`Yu hit her, first pop,' rejoined the stranger, adding, `I'm just havin' a look at the country.'

`Well, she's shore worth it, in parts, Mister--. What did yu say yore name was?' said the man of liquids, taking another chance.

`I didn't say,' smiled the newcomer. `Yu can call me Green.' `I've heard of more appropriate labels, but it's yore bet, an' she goes as she lays,' agreed the barkeeper. `I answers to Silas my own self. Here's how!'

They drank again, and the conversation turned to less personal topics. The stranger learned that the country round was interested only in cattle, the two principal ranches being the Frying Pan and the Y Z.

`Then there's the Double X up in the hills, but that's only a little one,' Silas explained. `If it's a job yo're huntin', I've heard that the Y Z can use another puncher. The old man is all right, but the foreman, Blaynes, is a blister. That's one o' the Y Z boys playin' there.'

He indicated the younger of the card-players, little more than a boy, whose face was getting more and more solemn as his hard-earned money passed to his opponent. The stranger looked at the pair for a moment and then said:

`Reckon he'll be a "wiser head" before he's much older. Who's the hard citizen?'

The barkeeper laughed at the pleasantry, though it was a joke he heard every time a `wise-head' puncher came to town, and then replied to the question in a whisper:

`The hard citizen--an' yu shore have got him right--is Poker Pete, a slick man with cards or guns by reputation. If yo're aimin' to stay in these parts yu might remember that he's got friends hereabouts.'

`That so?' queried the other nonchalantly. `Well, I guess some folk around here ain't particular who they mix up with.' They watched the play in silence for a while. The gambler was winning, but beyond an occasional gleam in his beady eyes, his face betrayed no emotion whatever. He was a big-made man, beefy, but in poor condition, and the rusty black coat he wore seemed curiously out of keeping with the trousers thrust into top boots, and the slouched hat. His opponent, who had evidently visited the bar on more than one occasion, betrayed a lamentable lack of that stoicism so essential to good poker-playing, and profane expressions of joy or disgust punctuated his game. At length, with a hearty curse, he slammed down the cards, rose to his feet, and cried:

`That lets me out. Yu done corralled the whole herd, every cent of three months' pay, 'cept what went for irrigatin'. I never see such luck. Am I good for a drink, Silas?'

`Have one on the house,' replied that worthy, and passed the bottle. The gambler did not speak or move. Idly ruffling the pack in his hands, he glanced at the stranger. It was an invitation.

`Shore I'll take a whirl with yu,' said the visitor, and seated himself in the chair the cowboy had vacated.

He won the cut for deal and the game commenced. Both men played cautiously, each testing the strength of the other. Bets ruled small, and at the end of half an hour there was but little between the players. Then the man who called himself Green picked up a hand, looked at it, and said: `S'pose we get outa the infant class an' whoop her up a bit.' `Suits me,' replied his opponent.

The amount of the bets increased, and the stranger won steadily. The gambler appeared to lose a little of his immobility as misfortune continued to dog him. `Luck's dead out,' he grumbled, as he pushed across another twenty dollars, `but it's bound to change, an' I'll get yu yet.' The possibility of seeing an expert trimmed had drawn Silas from behind the bar, and he now stood with the young puncher, both closely watching the game. The gambler, who had now lost about a hundred dollars, dealt. Green glanced at his cards, laid them face down on the table, and said: 'bettin' fifty--in the dark.'

`I'm seein' that an' raisin' her as much,' was the instant reply. `Come again,' said Green, pushing out another fifty.

`Which makes her two hundred,' retorted Poker Pete, and reached for the pack. `Yu want any cards?'

`Put 'em up!' came the sharp command, and the astonished gambler looked up into the threatening muzzle of an unwavering Colt.

`What th' hell...' he began, but nevertheless his hands reached for the roof: it seemed a safer position for argument.

The other stretched forward, and with his left hand extracted a gun from its place of concealment under Pete's armpit.

`Keep 'em up,' he said menacingly, and then, to the two onlookers, `Yu see, he dealt me three kings, an' I've a hunch there's three aces in his own hand. He reckons I'll take two cards, so he fixes the other king and a low one top o' the deck, with the other ace comin' next, so that whether I take one or two, or none whatever, he's got me beat every way there is. Now, seh,'this to the barkeeper--`I'll be obliged if you will turn up his hand, an' then the three top cards o' the pack. If I'm wrong, I'll eat dirt, an' the stakes are his, but if I'm right'

He broke off grimly and watched Silas expose the cards. They proved to be placed exactly as he had predicted. The cheat also watched the operation with an expression in which fear and hatred were curiously mingled. The test over, the stranger looked at him with plain contempt.

`Yu a gambler,' he sneered. `Why, yo're only a cheap tin-horn. Yu don't know nothin' about poker. I've seen boys o' fourteen who could skin yu at the game. How much did he take outa yu?' This to the previous player.

`Hundred an' twenty,' replied the puncher. `But I ain't kickin'--I lost

`Lost nothin',' retorted Green. `When yu go up agin a stacked deck yu don't lose--yu just get robbed.'

He pushed the amount from the money lying on the table, pocketed the remainder, and then holstered his gun. Instantly the gambler sprang to his feet, his right hand dropped to his neck, there was a rapid movement, and a heavy knife flashed past the stranger's ear, burying itself with a dull thud in the log wall. The man whom death had missed by a bare inch looked at the poisonous face of his would-be murderer and laughed cynically.

`Ain't there nothin' yu can do well?' he asked, and then, `I shot a rattler on my way here, an' I just can't go on wastin' good cartridges on vermin.'

With the words he leapt suddenly, clearing the intervening table, and as his feet touched the floor, his fist, with all the momentum of his body behind it, caught the gambler on the jaw, lifted him clear of the ground and hurled him with a crash against the wall. There he lay, limp and huddled, only the hatred in his eyes showing that he still lived. The visitor forbore to add to the punishment.

`Fade,' he said, and with a muttered curse the beaten man climbed slowly to his feet and staggered from the' saloon. Not until he had vanished did the grim features of the victor relax, and then, `Where do I eat?' he asked.

`Down at the hotel, with me,' said the puncher eagerly. `Gosh! I'll be proud to know a man who can hit like that. Larry Barton is my brand.' The other man smiled at the boy's whole-hearted invitation, and after seeing to the needs of his horse, accompanied his new friend to the hotel, where they dispatched a satisfying meal.

`If yu got any notion o' settlin' down around here yu want to remember that Poker has the name for never forgettin' or forgivin',' Larry said. The remark amounted to a question, and the other man rolled a cigarette with meticulous care before he replied.

`That sort o' makes me eager to stay,' he said quietly. `But I gotta get a job--I ain't no plutocrat.'

`Fine,' said Larry. `All yu hey to do is fork yore cayuse an' come along o' me to the Y Z. I heard the Old Man sayin' he wanted another puncher. I reckon yu understand cattle.'

`I expect I've got notions thataway,' was the smiling reply.

`Well, the Y Z is one good ranch,' returned the boy. `Blaynes, nhe foreman, is shore tough, but the Old Man is all right, an' his daughter, Miss Norry, makes a short-sighted man's life a burden.'

`Good-looker, eh?' queried the stranger.

`Good everythin',' was the enthusiastic answer. `But shucks, what's the use? I'm only a cowhand. Say, we'd better get agoin'.'

Chapter II

SIMON PETTER--more generally referred to as `Old Simon'--the owner of the Y Z ranch, was a grizzled, stoutish man in the early fifties. His face was good-natured, but in the rounded chin there was a hint of weakness, which a short beard did not fully conceal. He had the repute of being a fair man in his dealings, and was generally liked in the district. He stood now on the broad verandah of the ranch-house, apprising the man Larry had enthusiastically presented to him, with a brief account of what happened at the `Folly.'

`Poker Pete, eh?' he said. `Well, he's had it comin' to him for quite a while. So yu rough-housed him, eh?'

`Maybe I didn't think I was handlin' aigs,' said the stranger, with a grin.

Simon liked the smile and the competent look of power in the wearer of it.

`An' yu want a job?' he continued.

`Why no, seh,' replied the drawling voice. `I ain't near so broke as that, but I'm willin' to take one.'

`What's yore name?' came the blunt question.

`Green is the only label I can produce at the moment. Yu will find I answer to that as well as another.'

Old Simon looked at the steady narrowed eyes, and his own twinkled. In that country names were nothing--more than one good man finding it expedient to sail under false colors. Anyway, the applicant looked capable, and he wanted men of that stamp just now.

`The pay is forty a month, an' grub is good,' he said. `Larry will take yu down an' introduce yu to the boys. My foreman, Blaynes, is away; yu can report to him in the mornin'.'

`Say, boss, I told him fifty per,' interjected Barton.

`Yore mouth opens too easy,' retorted Old Simon. `It's forty for newcomers. Take it or leave it.'

`Suits me,' said the new man, and was turning to accompany Barton when the angry scream of a horse shattered the silence.

In a moment they saw the animal rushing towards them from the corral, bucking, sun-fishing, weaving--using every device of the 'bad' horse to unseat or destroy its rider. Half-fainting, but clinging desperately to the saddle, was a young girl, her face white beneath the tan, and her red-gold hair in a cloud round her head. It was obvious that her strength was nearly spent, and that she would be thrown and savaged by the maddened beast. The new hand acted without hesitation. Running swiftly forward, he made a sudden spring at the horse's head, and avoiding the flying forefeet by a miracle, gripped the reins by the bit.

Instantly the brute tried to rear, with the intention of falling backwards, but the man's iron strength pulled the head down, though it was all he could do to keep his footing. A quick snatch, and his right hand closed over and gripped the nostrils of the animal. It screamed with rage, and the great teeth clashed in a savage attempt to bite. But the clutch tightened, and, subdued for the moment, the horse snood quivering.

`Lift her down, Larry,' came the crisp command. No sooner had the cowboy got the half-senseless girl clear than Green, releasing the grip of his right hand, leapt into the empty saddle. This fresh outrage stirred the animal to an instant renewal of activity. It commenced bucking with redoubled fury, swapping ends, and employing, as Larry phrased it, 'all the old tricks, an' some new ones,' in its endeavor to injure the man on its back. The trio of onlookers watched the struggle with bated breath.

`He's a shore-enough killer, boss,' said the cowboy.

`That man knows his business,' replied Old Simon, his face pale yet with the fear he had felt for his daughter. The maddened horse was now leaping and twisting with a speed and suddenness which almost baffled the sight, yet still the rider kept his seat. His lean face, jaw grimly set, snapped back with each jolt, but the cruel bit, jammed to the back of the animal's mouth by arms of steel, prevented it from getting its head down. As though realizing this, the horse suddenly stood straight up on its hind legs. In another second it would have been on its back and the rider crushed to death, but, as Old Simon had said, the man knew his business. Down between the creature's ears crashed the loaded end of the quirt, with a force that jarred the brute almost into sensibility. Another attempt met with the same treatment, and, with a sharp scream of pain and rage, the horse darted for the open plain. The rancher turned to the girl, who, pale and shaky, was now somewhat recovered.

`What were yu doin' up on Blue Devil, Norry?' he asked. `Ain't I told yu not to touch him?'

`Yes, Dad; but you know I can ride, and I didn't think there was a horse I couldn't manage,' the girl replied.

`Well, yu know now there is, an' yu keep away from him in future,' retorted the old man grimly. `By the way, who helped yu rope an' saddle him?'

`Now, Dad,' she replied, with a laugh in which a sob was oddly mingled, `do you think I'd tell?' Then, as her father growled an oath, she slipped her arm coaxingly through his, and added, `You mustn't be angry with the boys, Dad; they just have to do what I say, you know, and Blue was as good as gold at first.' The ranch-owner replied with a non-committal grunt, and stood staring out over the open country. Presently came the drumming of hoofs, and soon the roan appeared, still running fast, but entirely under control, and evidently, for the time at least, a beaten horse. His rider, reining in, jumped lightly down, and stood stroking the heaving flanks. Simon stepped forward.

`I'm obliged to yu,' he said simply, and with a nod in the direction of Blue Devil. `What do yu think of him?'

`Grandest hoss I've ever crossed,' was the instant reply. `But yu won't never make a lady's pet of him.'

`I ain't aimin' to,' retorted Old Simon. `I once said I'd give that hoss to anyone that could ride him, an' I reckon that's why this girl o' mine was disobeyin' orders. He's yourn, an' it's fifty per for newcomers sometimes. Sabe.'

`I'll be proud to have the hoss, an' yu'll find I earn my pay,' was the quiet reply.

`I have to thank you too for saving, perhaps, my life,' Norry said, stepping forward with outstretched hand. The stranger took and held it for a moment, looking gravely into the deep blue eyes. Then he said: `Why, it don't need mentionin',' and turned away.

The girl watched him as he followed Larry to the corral, leading Blue Devil, who went docilely enough. She was rather puzzled by his abrupt departure; men, as a rule, were in no hurry to leave her. She did not think he had meant to be rude, and yet--her father's voice broke in upon her reflections.

`Now yu mind what I'm sayin', girl, an' when I tell yu to keep away from a four-legged earthquake yu gotta obey. It takes a bit to throw a scare into me, but I'll own up I was frightened good and plenty.'

`All right, Dad, I'll promise,' the girl replied. `I was scared good and plenty myself. I wonder where the new man comes from?'

`Dunn,' said Old Simon. `It ain't reckoned good form or good sense to be too curious in these parts, but he's worth his pay if he never does anythin' else for me.'

`You're just a dear,' Noreen responded tenderly, hugging him by the arm as they went into the house.

Meanwhile, the two punchers, having unsaddled and turned Blue Devil loose in the corral, proceeded to the bunkhouse, arriving just in time for the evening meal. Larry presented his new friend to the outfit:

`A new "Wise head," boys--name of Green; but I wouldn't recommend any of yu to gamble on that same cog-no-men meanin' much.'

The presentation elicited a laugh. Some of the men nodded, others vouchsafed a single word, `How,' and all of them went on eating. Green and his companion slid into a couple of empty places at the long table and tackled the food as though their last meal was a distant memory.

At length, when the plates had been cleared and replenished, coffee-cups emptied and refilled, the men began to find another use for their jaws. Green saw covert glances sent in his direction, and divined that he was being `looked over,' and that presently he would be `tried out.' Larry knew what was coming, and hugged himself mentally for not having `gassed' about the new man's performances.

`They're good boys--some of 'em; but it'll shore improve their eddication if they josh him,' he reflected.

A red-headed, merry-faced cowboy, who was called 'Ginger' because he hated it and had foolishly allowed that fact to become known, opened the attack.

`Gee, stranger, but I'm right glad yu happened along,' he said. `It'll save me somethin'.'

Green looked up inquiringly. `Shoot,' he said, with a smile.

`Well,' began Ginger, 'yu see, that Y Z has the meanest hoss this side o' the Mexican border, an' it's a custom o' the ranch that the latest comer has to try an' ride that hoss within a certain time, unless a new hand drifts in to take the job. Now my time is nearly up, so the hoss bein' a real man-killer, I'm obliged to yu.'

The stranger listened gravely, Ginger had not done it well; as he explained afterwards, he had had no time to think out something classy, in consequence of being hungry, but that was his chronic state, so the excuse failed also.

`It certainly is a fool trick to fork a hoss yu are scared of,' Green grinned. Ginger fell into the trap headlong, his face as red as his hair. `Scared nothin',' he shouted. `I never seen the thing on four legs or two that I was scared of, an' don't yu forget it.' A burst of laughter from the others apprised him that he had given himself away, and the stranger completed his discomfiture by saying:

`I was thinkin' yu weren't so obliged as yu were tryin' to tell me.'

`Betcha dollar I can name somethin' on two legs that yo're scared of, Ginger,' said Dirty (whose nickname was in reality a compliment, since it was due to his actual fondness for soap and water). The boys argued that anyone so keen on washing must badly need it.

`Take yu,' snapped Ginger unwisely.

`Why, yo're dead easy,' said Dirty, with a broad grin. `What about Miss Norry?'

`I ain't--' Ginger cut short his protest, for he knew that, uttered, it must be made good. He decided to cut his losses, and flung a dollar at his smirking friend.

`Think yo're blame smart, don't ye?' he said. `Who got chased outa Kansas City by a girl with a gun?'

Dirty flushed furiously, and then laughed. `She shore was awful gone on me, that girl was,' he remarked. `But I didn't go back. No, sir.'

`Gone on yu?' Ginger snorted. `Gone on yu? She musts bin out of her haid.'

`Ginger don't understand the gentle passion,' Dirty explained commiseratingly to Green. `He ain't never had a girl run after him!'

The newcomer added his quota to the good-natured wrangle which ensued, but his eyes were busy studying the men with whom he must spend his days and nights. He soon divined that there were two factions in the Y Z outfit, one composed of the younger, light-hearted crew, several of whom he now knew by name, and the others of older men, hard-bitten, stamped with marks of the frontier. From one or two of these he got looks which, if not exactly hostile, were certainly not of welcome, but he did not let this worry him, for he had an abiding confidence in his ability to take care of himself in any company, a confidence born of experience, which is the best kind of that useful commodity.

Chapter III

GREEN did not see the foreman at breakfast next morning, and when the meal was over he shouldered his saddle and went to the corral, where the men were getting their mounts and orders for the day's work.

`That's Blaynes,' whispered Larry.

The man indicated was about thirty-five, tall and strongly built, with a lean, dark face upon which was set a perpetual sneer. He moved with the sinuous speed of a snake and carried his head with a forward thrust which gave a reptilian impression. Whoever first bestowed the nickname of `Rattler' upon him hit the mark to a nicety.

'Dago blood there,' thought Green, `Treacherous, tough as hickory, and as hard no whip as a mountain lion.'

The foreman looked at him squarely as he walked up, and their eyes clashed like the blades of duellists. In that instant each instinctively knew the other for an enemy; like love, hate also can be born at first sight. It was the foreman who spoke:

`Green, eh?' he inquired sneeringly.

`That's my name,' replied the other, and the slight emphasis on the last word caused some of the men listening to smile. Blaynes saw the smiles, and they did not improve his temper.

`Dunn what the Old Man's thinkin' of to go a-takin' on any stranger that drifts in,' he growled insolently.

`Mebbe he's thinkin' that he owns the ranch,' countered Green.

This time the hit was direct, and several of the onlookers laughed audibly. Rattler realized that he was getting the worst of the argument, and promptly changed his tactics.

'Yo're quite the funny man, ain't ye?' he jeered. `Well, we'll see if you can use yore hands as well as yore jaw. Yuan' Durran can double-team it to-day, an' yu will take the roan there.'

He jerked his thumb towards the corral, where the outlaw horse was standing apart from the others, and this time some of the older men grinned; this new chap might be a bit of a `smarty,' but the foreman knew how to handle him. Green's face was absolutely expressionless as he replied:

'I'll ride my own hoss.'

`You'll do as yo're told while I'm bossin' this outfit, or git,' snarled Blaynes.

'I'll ride my own hoss,' repeated the other, and strode into the corral.

With a quick, low flick of the wrist he roped the roan, and with the help of Larry, got the saddle on and cinched. One lightning spring and he was astride. The other men, fully aware of Blue Devil's capabilities, expected to see him `piled' instantly, but, to their intense amazement, after a display of mild bucking with which any self-respecting cow-pony resents being ridden, the roan trotted sedately from the corral. Blaynes, who had been waiting for the humiliation and probably injury of the man he already hated, had but one consolation.

`Changed yore mind about obeyin' orders, eh?' he sneered. `Guessed yu was bluffin'.'

`Guess again,' retorted Green. `I told yu I'd ride my own hoss, an' that's what I'm doin'.'

He touched the roan's sides with the spurs and shot after Durran, who had already started. Rattler's gaze followed him in scowling perplexity.

"What th' hell?" he muttered.

He looked up to find Larry endeavoring to conceal his delight at the foreman's discomfiture, and making a poor job of it.

`Why now, Rattler, didn't yu hear about the Old Man givin' him the hoss las' night?' the boy asked.

`No, I didn't; an' I reckon the old fool must 'a bin loco to give a stranger the best hoss on the ranch,' growled the foreman. `What was the idea?'

Larry, who was enjoying himself hugely, gave a lurid but correct account of how Blue Devil came to change owners, and the foreman's face became more and more venomous as he listened. When the tale was told he turned away without comment, but had Larry been gifted with the faculty of reading expressions he would have realized that he had raised trouble aplenty for his new friend. But as that care-free youngster swung to his saddle his spoken thought was:

`That's one right in the solar perlexus, as the scientific guys puts it.'

Blaynes, who had his own views regarding the Y Z ranch and the pretty girl who would one day own it, strode savagely to the ranch-house, fighting his rage as he would have fought a vicious pony. He met the Old Man coming out.

`Givin' yore hosses away, I hear,' he sneered.

`I gave away a savage brute that near killed my girl, yes,' replied Simon.

`Best bit o' hoss-flesh we got, anyways,' said Blaynes. `On'y wanted tamin'.'

`Then why didn't ye do it?' retorted the Old Man. `I offered to give that hoss to anybody that could ride him months ago. Yu all tried an' got "piled," an' then Norry gets the fool notion she could do it, an' I damn near lose her. What have yu got against the new man, eh?'

`Don't like the looks of him no how,' the foreman said, scowling at the reference to his riding defeat, which rankled none the less because every man of the outfit had shared it.

`I figure he knows his job,' Simon said shortly.

`Mebbe he does,' rejoined Blaynes, who knew just how far he could go with his employer, and had no desire to pass the limit. `My point is this--we're losin' too many steers to take chances on strangers. How do yu know he ain't in with the rustlers?'

`How do I know that half o' ye ain't in with 'em?' snapped Simon savagely, for the continual loss of his cattle was hitting him sorely. `Yu don't seem no strike their trail very lively.'

Blaynes ground out an oath. `Yu ain't no call to say that o' the boys,' he remonstrated. `We're all a-doin' our best. Them war-paints is hard to canch in this kind o' country.'

`Huh! Yu still reckon it's 'Paches, do yu?' said Simon. `Well, yo're wrong, Blaynes. Redskins might lift a stray cow or two for the meat, but they wouldn't take 'em by the score. No, sir, it's an organized gang o' rustlers, an' it's up to yu to corral 'em.'

He turned and went indoors, the foreman's eyes following him with a malignant look. This changed magically to a smile as Noreen came out.

`Mornin', Miss Norry. Yo're lookin' fine in spite o' yore shakeup last night,' was his greeting.

`I wasn't hurt--only a wee bit scared,' she admitted.

`Some folks has all the luck. Wish I'd bin there,' said the foreman regretfully, with a look which made the girl turn sharply away. `What do yu think o' this new guy?'

`Naturally my principal feeling is one of gratitude,' returned the girl. `He struck me as being capable, and'--she added roguishly--`rather good-looking.'

Blaynes frowned. He had got more than he bargained for. `Looks ain't much to go on,' he said. `I've seed cattle-thieves that had him beat a mile thataway, an' as I told the Old Man just now, we can't afford to run risks with strangers when we're losin' steers. He'll do to keep an eye on that feller.'

`I wonder if he's married,' the girl speculated, with a mischievous smile.

`Ugh! Probably got half a dozen wives scattered around the country--that sort usually has,' snorted the foreman.

`He doesn't look like a Mormon; but still, I'll help oy keeping an eye on him, as you suggest, Blaynes,' Noreen laughed as she turned away.

Rattler waited until she was out of earshot and then swore fervently. It was distinctly not his lucky morning.

Green soon ranged alongside Durran, whose eyes opened wide when they saw the horse his companion was riding; he had not witnessed the scene at the corral.

`How come yu on that lump o' deviltry?' he asked.

`Oh, I just climbed up on him,' said Green airily.

`Lots of us has done that, but nary one could stay there,' was the reply. `Yu must be a medicine-man with hosses.'

`I savvy them,' was Green's answer.

Durran's comment was an inarticulate grunt, and for some miles they loped steadily over the grassy plain without exchanging a word, though the new man did not fail to note the covert, appraising glances of the other.

`Feed a-plenty,' he remarked presently. `If she's all like this, the Y Z should carry some cattle.'

`She ain't all like this, but there's enough that is,' Durran replied. `She'd be one big ranch if the owner knew his job.' `I heard he was a good cattleman,' Green said.

`Yu heard correct--he was a good cattleman; but he started gittin' old quite a piece ago, an' it's tellin' on him. Why, there's cows bein' stole every week, an' he don't do nothin'. If it wasn't for Rattler, them rustlers would 'a got the whole shootin' match by now.' `Good man, Rattler, eh?' queried Green.

`Yu said it,' responded Durran, but with no undue enthusiasm in his tone. `Up to his work. Yes, sir. An' it wouldn't astonish me none to find him ownin' this ranch some day. I've a hunch it'll pay to tie to him.'

They had left the undulating plain and were entering a stretch of rough country which, gashed and scarred, formed the base to a great range of hills, the jagged ridge-line of which showed clear against the sky. The ground in front of them presented a multiplicity of character. Miniature deserts, arid little areas of sand and cactus, interspersed with brush-filled draws, tiny canyons with verdure-clad, overhanging sides, valleys carpeted with lush grass and fed by trickling streams, huge masses of rock, apparently hurled by some mighty hand from the distant range, all jumbled together in inextricable confusion. And behind it all the black belt of pines which clothed the lower slopes of the mountains.

`Best keep yer eyes open, in case we git separated,' warned Durran. `We call this the Maze, an' it's a damned sight easier to git into than out of, 'specially for a stranger.'

`Reckon yo're right,' Green agreed. `What do they call the hills over there?'

`Big Chief Range,' replied Durran. `An' mighty mean country 'cept for redskins an' rustlers.'

They now began to come upon signs of strayed cattle, and were too fully occupied in routing them out of the brush and starting them back to the plain for converse. Green soon discovered that his mount, though obviously new to the work, had the inherited instincts of a cow-pony, and was quick to learn.

`Yu an' me is goin' to get along fine, Blue,' the rider soliloquized after a tussle with a pugnacious steer which had to be roped and thrown before it would listen to reason. This was by no means the only incident of the kind, for the strays were in a half-wild state, and showed a tendency to `go on the prod' when driven from their retreat.

Presently, riding through a small grassy glade surrounded by cottonwoods, Green pulled up sharply. At his feet lay a dead cow, and a few yards away were the ashes of a tiny fire. His hail brought Durran to the spot.

"Paches,' he said at once, pointing to a broken feather, lying as though accidentally dropped, near the carcase. The new hand picked it up and examined it thoughtfully.

`Ain't like Injuns to leave their name and address,' he said slowly. `Nor meat either.'

`Huh! They was interrupted an' had to make a quick getaway,' suggested Durran.

Green was examining the dead cow. It had been shot in the head, and round the bullet-hole the hair was singed.

`So they fired that shot to advertise their whereabouts,' he said. `No, that don't explain it.'

`Well, that war-bonnet plume talks plenty loud enough for me,' returned Durran, with a dark look. `Fac's is fac's.' Green saw that the man's mind was made up, and that argument would be futile, so he dropped the subject. He could not fail to note, however, that Durran's attitude for the rest of the day was a sulky one; apparently he resented the questioning of his judgment, and his conversation was confined to the work in hand.

It was getting towards evening when they returned to the ranch, and they were as hungry as a day in the saddle can make a man. Nevertheless, Green rode past the bunkhouse and up to the owner's dwelling. Old Simon was on the verandah. He listened quietly to the new hand's report, looked at the feather, and Len said :

`Yu got any ideas about it?'

I'm guessin' it ain't 'Paches, but they want us to think it is,' Green replied. `That feather is plumb clumsy--even a Reservation brave ain't that careless. An' what was the fire for? Injuns don't carry runnin'-irons. 'Sides, the hosses they rode was shod, even the grass trail showed that.'

`Yu didn't follow the tracks?'

`No,' explained Green. `Durran didn't seem interested, an' I had no orders.'

The old man regarded him steadily for a while, and then said, 'Yo're gettin' 'em now. I want this rustler business cleaned up. That's yore job.'

`Better not advertise it,' suggested Green.

`I ain't a-goin to; I'll explain to Blaynes that yo're on special work for me,' said the rancher.

Green had his own ideas as to the importance Blaynes would attach to his employer's explanation, and he was soon to learn that he was right, for at that moment the foreman came up. There was a note of triumph in his tone as he said:

`Well, Simon, Durran tells me that he come upon some more rustler work, with shore Injun sign; I reckon that settles it.'

`Green's just been tellin' me he come on it,' said Old Simon quietly.

`Well, they was together anyway,' replied Rattler, with a surly glance at the new hand. `Durran reported to me as foreman, which was the proper thing to do.'

`Green agrees with me that it ain't Injuns,' said the ranch-owner, `an' I think he's right.'

`So do I,' retorted Blaynes. `If I'd just been took on, an' wanted to hold my job, I'd agree with the boss every time.'

A sneering smile accompanied the words. Green heard the taunt unmoved, his face like granite. Old Simon laughed. `Have it yore way, Blaynes. Yu say it's Injuns. All right, fetch in their scalps, an' I'll believe yu. By the way, Green'll be doin' what I say for a bit. Savvy?'

The foreman nodded, and the two men walked towards the bunkhouse. The foreman was the first to break the silence. `Yu shore are in luck,' he remarked acidly, `to get a fine hoss an' a soft job all in twenty-four hours.'

`Did the Old Man tell yu it was a soft job?' queried Green sweetly.

`That's what I'd call moseyin' around pertendin' to look for rustlers,' retorted Blaynes.

`So would I,' replied the other. `But there ain't no rustlers, so it'll be a hard job to find any. Yore way of it the Injuns are stockin' the Reservation with Y Z cows. Why don't yu pay the agent a visit?'

Blaynes made no reply to this pleasantry. Supper was nearly over when they entered the bunkhouse, but with the foreman there, the harassed cook knew better than to make any fuss over producing fresh supplies. Green soon learned that the news of his treatment of Poker Pete had become known, and had been received variously by the men. Some of the younger did not scruple to hide their hearty approbation.

`On'y hope yu ain't scared 'im off the reservation,' was Dirty's comment. `He owes me money, that hombre.'

`Don't yu worry none,' said one of the older men, whose semi-Indian origin and dark skin had earned for him the name of Nigger.' `If Pete owed a feller anythin', he gets it.'

The speaker directed a malicious glance at Green as he said the words, but the new hand appeared to be entirely occupied with his plate. Nevertheless, he had heard, and sensed that the threat was intended for him.

`Aw, hell! I reckon the old tinhorn will drift,' said another of the younger group, whose name being Simon, found himself promptly re-christened `Simple,' to distinguish him from the Old Man.

The wrangle went on, and it became more and more evident that the disgraced gambler had friends in the outfit. Green refused to be drawn into the discussion. His meal finished, he rolled a cigarette and slipped outside, after a glance at Larry which was an invitation. Strolling down to the corral, he climbed the rail, and sat there smoking. Presently Barton joined him.

`Well, what do yu think o' the bunch?' he asked, when he had perched himself alongside his friend.

`Yu heard the story o' the curate's egg?' asked Green.

`Shore, yu've said it: good in parts,' replied Larry, with a chuckle. `So yu've been elecned to collect the rustlers' ha'r, eh?' `Who told yu?' Green asked quickly.

`Oh, Rattler ain't makin' any secret of it,' was the reply. `I somehow got the idea he don't like yu.'

`I've a dim suspicion myself thataway,' returned the new hand easily; `but I don't guess I'll lose any sleep over it.'

`Wish the Old Man would let me trail along with yu,' Larry said wistfully. `I know the country, an' yu don't; I reckon I'd be useful.'

`Shore yu would, an' if I want any help I'll ask for yu,' Green said. `In the meantime, keep yore eyes an' ears open; it wouldn't surprise me none if the bunkhouse was a good place to look.'

Chapter IV

On the following morning Green saddled the roan and made his way to the spot where he had found the dead cow, intending to take up the trail from there. To his astonishment, he found that the carcass had disappeared, and the original tracks were hopelessly blurred by a number of others leading in all directions.

`They have certainly got quick news of my appointment,' he muttered.

As he sat there surveying the scene in puzzled cogitation, an arrow transfixed his sombrero, snatching it from his head. Instantly he rode straight for the clump of brush from which it seemed to come. He was too late; a crackling in the undergrowth, a shrill whoop, and then the thud of galloping hoofs told him that the hidden assassin had escaped. He returned for his hat and carefully examined the missile.

`Apache, all right, an' a war-shaft at that,' he commented. `But a brave on his first scout wouldn't have missed such an easy mark at that range. No, gents, I ain't right convinced o' that redskin theory even now.'

Behind the bush from which the arrow had come he found the grass trodden down and several cigarette ends; the bushwhacker had clearly waited some time, and had been careless too. The marks of his flight were apparent, and also told a story.

`No, sir, braves don't wear boots in this neck o' the woods,' the cowboy soliloquized.

Leading his horse, he followed the trail for a few hundred yards; then it ceased, and hoof-prints told that the unknown had there mounted and continued his flight over a stretch of hard, rocky ground, which showed no tell-tale tracks. For an hour Green searched painstakingly, bun without success. Then he headed straight across the baffling barrier in the direction of the frowning slopes of the Big Chief Range.

Midday found him traversing some of the wildest country he had ever seen, and he began to realize the magnitude of the task before him. Deep, thickly-wooded valleys, brush-tangled gullies, pine-covered rocky ridges succeeded one another in bewildering confusion, and over all the sullen peaks of the Big Chief towered in solemn majesty.

`It's a man's job, all right,' he said. `I reckon yu could lose an army here, an' not be too awful careless at that.' He plodded on for another hour, and presently emerged on the bank of a little stream beside which stood a rude log shack with a sodded roof from which a trickle of smoke ascended. He had come upon the place so unexpectedly that he could not hope to have escaped observation, so he adopted a bold policy and rode up to the door.

`Hello, the house!' he called.

A man instantly appeared in the doorway, rifle in hand. He was a tough-looking customer, with black beady eyes which scanned the visitor with suspicious care.

`Howdy,' he said, and waited.

`I'm from the Y Z,' Green said, knowing that the brand on his mount had told this already.

`I got eyes,' came the retort. `New hand, I s'pose. Ain't yu strayed off yore range quite a piece?'

`Oh, I reckon I'm lost all right,' laughed Green.

'Light an' eat,' said the other.

The interior of the cabin was as primitive as the outside. A rude, home-made table, two or three stools, and a pallet bed comprised the furniture. A pick, shovel and a gold-digger's pan stood in one corner.

Washin', eh?' Green asked, with a glance at the implements. `Gettin' much?'

`Well, it ain't nothin' to advertise,' the man replied, `but it pays better'n punchin' cows.'

`It don't have to be a bonanza to do that,' laughed the cowboy. `Don't see much company, I reckon.'

'Yo're the first in two weeks,' was the answer.

The meal dispatched, the two men smoked in silence for a while. Then Green remarked casually:

`Redskins bother yu any?'

The man's eyes narrowed for a moment, and there was the barest hesitation before he said, `Naw, I treat 'em right an' mind my own business. Don't see much of 'em: two or three braves now an' then--aimin' to borry a few o' yore steers, I guess; but that's yore lookout.'

`That's so,' agreed Green, joining in the laugh that followed. `Means a job for chaps like me, eh?'

`Shore; puttin' it thataway, the Injun's some good, which I never did expect to think,' grinned the other.

`Preachers say everythin' was made for a purpose, even rattlesnakes, but I'm blamed if I can find any use for them,' Green remarked, and then added casually, `I'm told there's another ranch up here somewhere, the Double X.'

A look of alertness illumined the not-too-clean features of his host for a brief moment, and then he said slowly: `I've heard of it, but I ain't been there; it's way back in the hills, an' I ain't nohow interested in cattle at present.'

The conversation languished, and after a while the visitor rose and said, `Well, I got to be driftin'. Which way do I go for the Y Z?'

`Cross the stream and head due south--there ain't no depth o' water just now. Less'n half an hour yu'll strike the trail to Hatchett's.'

With a word of thanks, Green mounted his animal and forded the creek. As he vanished among the trees he looked round, saw the miner watching him, and waved his hand.

`An' that ain't a good-bye, old-timer,' he muttered. `Yu an' me is goin' to meet again, or I miss my guess. That minin' outfit was considerable rusty for recent use, an' I'm bettin' high yu couldn't produce an ounce o' dust nohow.' He found the trail, and giving Blue the rein, headed for the ranch. It proved a longish ride, and darkness was coming on when he unsaddled, turned the horse into the corral, and made his way to the bunkhouse. The men were at supper, and Green caught what he was looking for an expression of surprise on the faces of the foreman, Durran, and several of the older men.

`Hello, Green!' greeted Larry. `Rattler was sayin' yu was shore lost, or Blue had "piled" yu, or

`I'd been snatched to glory by a blue-eyed angel with white wings,' suggested the late-comer with a smile. `Well, as a matter o' fact, I did get lost; this is shore a discouragin' country for strangers.'

`Them as don't mind their own business are liable to find it so,' put in Blaynes. `Get any rustlers?'

Green laughed easily. `Nary one; those interestin' animiles seem to be amazin' shy in these parts. I found a miner, though.'

A look of quick suspicion came into the foreman's eyes, and then he said carelessly: `Old Nugget, I s'pose. He's loco. Hope yu searched him to see if he'd got any steers hidden in his clothes.'

The men laughed gaily at the joke, and Green joined in; he did not want any open breach with Blaynes. Later, he got a chance to question Larry about the prospector.

`Oh, he's a harmless old piker,' replied the cowboy, with a touch of contempt in his tone. `Been pannin' the streams around here for years, an' if he gets "color" now an' then, he's happy. Never seen him at the ranch; but he goes into town for supplies. An' now I come to think of it, I've seen him powwowin' with Poker Pete, but we've all done that.' Green considered for a moment and, having determined that Larry was to be trusted, told the story of the missing cow and the ambush. The boy's eyes widened as he listened.

`Don't that beat hell?' was his astonished comment. `An' smart too. Say, this ain't no one man job. Why not tell Old Simon, an' ask for me as a side-partner?'

Green shook his head. `I'm layin' low for a bit. Yu keep all I've told yu behind yore face,' he said. `I'm relyin' on yu now; but we got work both ends. 'Nother thing. Don't let on that we're too friendly; we don't want 'em to get suspicious o' yu.'

`Rattler don't love me none as it is,' Larry said. `I'd have asked for my time months ago but for...'

`Shore; but don't tell me--I might be surprised,' interrupted his friend, with a grin. `Well, don't yu care. A fellow can't tell what's in the pack till the cards is turned.'

`Some fellers can't; yu seem to be able to,''Larry retorted.

`Easy enough with tinhorns like Poker Pete, but when Mother Fate is a-dealin' it's a hoss of a different color. Know anythin' about Old Simon?'

`Mighty little,' was the reply. `He settled here with his girl soon after the gold-diggin's petered out, but I never heard where he come from. That must be about eighteen years ago.'

`His daughter don't favor him much,' Green said reflectively.

`Much?' cried Larry indignantly. `She ain't a mite like him. How could she be? Old Simon never fell out of a picture-book.' Green shook with silent mirth. `Yu certainly are easy,' he chuckled. `The little feller with the bow an' arrows has got yu thrown an' tied shore enough.'

`An' another feller with a bow an' arrow'll lay yu out cold an' stiff if yu ain't careful,' retorted the boy, whose red face showed that the blow had gone home. `Joking on one side, Green, I wouldn't care to be in yore shoes.'

`Takes a man to fill 'em,' bantered the other.

`A good part o' one, anyway,' Larry flashed back. Whereupon they agreed to call it quits and sought their beds, entering the bunkhouse separately.

Lying in his bunk, Green turned over the events of the day in an endeavor to find a key to the mystery which overhung the ranch. He was convinced that the foreman was playing a deep game, but he had no proof, and he recognized that obtaining it would be no picnic. Not that this troubled him; he had been in tight places before--in fact, his life for years had been, as he humorously phrased it, `one damn squeeze after another.'

`If old Nugget is in this, he'll want to report my visit,' he ruminated. `I'll be around there early to-morrow,' and having thus settled the next step to be taken, he turned over and promptly fell asleep.

At daybreak he rose and dressed without awaking any of the others. He aroused the cook, who slept in his own quarters, and representing that he had an urgent job for the ranch-owner, managed to secure a meal and provision for the day, though not without protest.

`If all yu dudes is goin' to eat separate, I quit,' growled the cook. `What's the matter with this blamed ranch, anyway? There's Rattler comes pesterin' round for his breakfast 'alf an 'our ago, an' now yu. Must be afeared yu ain't earnin' yore pay, some o' yu.'

This was news for Green; the foreman had got ahead of him. A query to the cook as to Rattler's destination elicited a disgusted reply.

"Ow in 'ell do I know? Does he strike yu as a feller who advertises? Yu ain't told me nothin' yerself.'

`I don't advertise either,' Green laughed, and left the irate provision purveyor muttering dark and bloody threats against the next unlucky wight who should come in search of an early meal.

Surmising that the foreman might be on the same errand as himself, Green proceeded on his way cautiously, taking cover when it offered, and avoiding the skyline whenever it was possible to do so. He discovered no sign of Blaynes, however, until he reached the hut, and there, from the thick brush, he saw a horse with the reins thrown waiting patiently outside the door. Leaving his own mount, he crept close enough to make out the Y Z brand on the animal's rump.

Making a detour, he found a fallen tree which bridged the stream at a narrow point, and crossed. There were no windows at the back of the cabin, and stepping with the craft of an Indian, Green was soon crouched by the logs which formed the rear wall. Inside, he could hear voices, the foreman's and the old miner's.

`Now yu understan', Nugget,' Blaynes was saying. `He ain't wanted, an' if yu catch him nosin' round here, bump him off. There won't be no inquiries, an' if there is, it'll be put down to Injuns, if yo're careful.'

The other man laughed shortly, and guessing that the visitor was about to leave, Green retreated to the bushes. In a few moments Rattler appeared, mounted, and rode off in the direction of the ranch. Green waited patiently, and at the end of about half an hour, Nugget came out carrying a saddle and lariat. In a little clearing not far from the cabin was a rough corral. Nugget roped the sole occupant, a savage-looking cowpony, adjusted the saddle, and took a dim trail which appeared to lead to the mountains.

`Bet m'self two dollars he's headed for the Double X,' Green soliloquized. `I'll have to see if I win.'

Keeping well in the background, he followed the tracks of the man in front. The trail, which was obviously very little used, wound in and out among the trees and undergrowth, which here and there almost obstructed it. Nugget was evidently taking his time over the trip, and once the pursuer was near enough to get a whiff of rank tobacco. He at once slowed down. He had no fear of losing his man, for the ground was soft, and the hoof-marks of the pony showed clearly. For over an hour he jogged steadily on, and then found himself on the rim of a deep valley, treeless and covered with lush grass. Halfway down the long slope he could see his quarry trotting leisurely towards the other side. He waited until Nugget vanished over the far skyline, and then followed at a fast lope.

As he expected, the miner had disappeared, but his trail led down a long incline covered with pine and clumps of undergrowth. Green pressed on, anxious to make up the time he had been forced to waste at the valley. Rounding a tree-covered pinnacle of rock, he suddenly pulled his horse back on its haunches. In front of him, running at right angles, lay a broad open trail, scored with innumerable footprints of horse and cattle. Those of the rider in front could no longer be distinguished. Green swore softly.

`Hell!' he said. `Gotta take a chance now, Blue. But what's a big trail like this a-doin' here?'

The animal's answer was a movement to the left, and his master, who had the superstitions as well as the instincts of a gambler, accepted the hint. Mile after mile they followed the trail, which twisted and turned round hills and gullies in a way that showed foresight on the part of those who had first used it.

`Feller could take a tidy bunch o' cows over this, an' at a good lick,' muttered the cowpuncher.

An hour's hard riding brought him no sight of the man he was tracking. The cattle-trail, moreover, came to an end on the bank of a wide but shallow stream which emerged from the jaws of a dark and narrow canyon. Into this for some distance the trailer penetrated, scanning the banks of the stream carefully, but no trace of horse or cow rewarded him. On either hand the living rock, sparsely clothed with vegetation, rose almost vertically, while straight ahead a blank wall of rock indicated that the canyon was a blind one.

`An' cows ain't got wings,' Green said, adding to his unspoken thought.

He turned back to where the trail ended, crossed the water, and struck out over an expanse of shale-covered ground. It proved to be more than a mile wide, and on the other side of it, he found cattle sign again.

He pressed on, passing now through deep forest, then a stretch of open grassland, while at times the trail dipped into deep, savage gullies, hewn by Nature out of the bare rock and draped with spare vegetation. Emerging from one of these, he saw a bit of rolling prairie, shut in by wooded hills, and on the edge of it some log-buildings and corrals. In the distance were specks which he knew to be cattle.

The place appeared to be deserted, and he was about to shout when a man showed in the doorway. Green noted that he did not seem surprised, and surmised that his approach had been observed. The fellow was powerful-looking, thick-lipped, and wore a black patch over one eye, which imparted a cunning expression to his face. He had a revolver slung at his hip, and the handle of a knife protruded from his boot.

`Afternoon,' Green greeted pleasantly. `I take it this is the Double X.'

`It is,' said the other shortly. `An' I take it yo're the new Y Z feller who got gay with Poker Pete in Hatchett's.'

Green nodded, smiling. `I don't allow tinhorns to run blazers on me,' he returned easily. `Odd how news travels, even out here.'

`I was in town yesterday,' the man explained quickly, and Green chuckled inwardly. `What's brung yu out this far?'

`Well, I've been huntin' strays, an' got the fool notion I was headin' for home, but I reckon I've strayed some m'self,' the cowpuncher explained.

The one-eyed man burst into a coarse laugh. `If yu keep agoin' yu'll have to go all round the world to get to the Y Z,' he guffawed.

`Is that so? Pointin' right away from it, eh?' replied the visitor. `Well, if this ain't the beatenest country; that's twice I done lost m'self in it.'

If the man doubted this somewhat unlikely excuse for the puncher's presence he showed no sign of it. `Get down an'drink,' he invited. `Can't offer yu any grub: we're clean out. The boys are at Hatchett's with the wa.ggin, fetchin' in what I ordered yesterday.'

His one eye watched the visitor closely as he offered this information. Green nodded understandingly, dismounted, and tied his horse, not yet being certain that Blue would stand for a thrown rein. His host eyed the animal covetously.

`Good hoss,' he remarked. `Had him long?'

`No,' replied the cowboy. `He's kind o' new.'

The room they entered was a large one, and had a boarded floor. The furniture consisted mainly of a long table and a number of chairs and benches, mostly decorated with saddles, guns, and odds and ends of camp equipment. Two doors on the far side apparently led to the other parts of the building, which was of one storey only. Through one of these doors Green could hear a peculiarly raucous voice bellowing a cowboy ballad.

`That's my cook--thinks he's a blasted opery singer,' explained the host. `I'll just abate him a bit.' He opened one of the doors and yelled `Hey, Carewso, stop that blamed racket; I got a visitor what's fond o' music.'

The unholy noise died away into a grumble, and the host shut the door with a grin. `The boys call him that. They stand it pretty well, but I reckon they'll abolish him one of these days.'

He produced a bottle and glasses, pouring out generous portions. `Here's how,' he said. `My name's Dexter, an' I own this place.'

Green gave his own name, and then added: `Nice location yu got here, but the country round strikes me as bein' a hard one for cows.'

`Yu said it,' was the reply. `We lose a good few.'

`Rustlers?' queried Green.

The other man spat out an expletive. "Yep, copper-coloured ones from the Reservation just across the range. The damn thieves know all the passes, an' they sneak through, make their gather, an' git back without leavin' a sign yu can swear to.'

`They'd shore be hard to trail about here,' Green said.

`Hard to trail?' cried his host. `I believe yu. Why, the way they vanish sometimes yu'd think the beggers had wings; an' that's somethin' no Injun'll ever wear, in this world or the next. I've give up; but any war-plume what comes prancin' round here is apt to die o' lead-poisonin' mighty sudden.'

`I never had no use for Injuns,' Green agreed.

He declined a second drink on the ground that he must get back to the Y Z before dark, and asked the nearest way. He was not surprised when Dexter advised an entirely different route from the one which had brought him there.

`Straight across the valley an' through that notch in the rim'll bring yu to a plain trail to Hatchett's. If yu meet my boys tell 'em I'm a-gettin' hungrier every minit. So long! Drop in any time yo're passin'.'

The visitor returned the salutation and, mounting his horse, rode across the valley as directed. The non-appearance of the miner puzzled him, though he inclined to the belief that Nugget was there, keeping out of sight. The owner of the Double X had not impressed him favourably, but he had discovered nothing to connect him with the rustlers except the repetition of the redskin theory, and it was conceivable that the man might be losing stock and blaming the Indians for it.

In crossing the valley he purposely passed near one of the groups of feeding cattle. He did not slow up, for that would have aroused suspicion, but he got close enough to get a good look at the brand, a crude double X, roughly done, but apparently honest enough. Nevertheless, it provided him with food for thought. He reached the notch in the rim, climbed up a narrow stony pathway out of the walley, and found, as his host had promised, a plain trail. He had covered some miles of this when he heard singing, and presently round a bend came a lumbering wagon, with one man driving and three others riding beside it. The driver pulled up with an oath when he saw the puncher, and the right hands of the riders slid to their holsters.

`All right, boys,' Green called out genially. `I've just been visitin' yore boss, an' he said that if I met up with yu, I was to say that he's a-gettin' hungrier every minit, an' he shore enough looked it.'

One of the men laughed, and the attitude of guarded hostility relaxed somewhat. None of the four was young, and all had the look of men toughened by experience--good or bad. A nasty crowd to tangle up with, the cowpuncher decided.

`Dex may reckon hisself lucky to see us to-night,' commented one. `If Pete had been in town it would've bin to-morrow mawnin'.'

Green guessed that they knew who he was, and that the reference to the gambler had been made purposely, but he decided to ignore it.

`Well,' he drawled. `I gotta be pushin' along if I want any supper myself; that Y Z gang is real destructive at mealtimes.'

His refusal to take up the challenge, for so they regarded it, created a bad impression, and the laugh which greeted his remark was frankly sneering. With a curt `S'long' they rode on, grinning at one another. Green also resumed his journey, and he too was smiling.

`They're thinkin' that little ruckus at the Folly was just agrand-stand play, an' that I'm shy the sand to back it up, which is just what,I want 'em to think,' he soliloquised.

All the same, he had to confess that it had been an entirely disappointing day.

Chapter V

A Week passed without any further development to disturb the ordinary routine of the ranch. Green steadily raked the surrounding country, but gained nothing but a knowledge of it, and the covert sneers of the foreman and the older hands. In some way, the impression created by his rough handling of Poker Pete had worn off, and sometimes the insults were so thinly veiled that the object of them had hard work to restrain himself. Larry, his staunch admirer, could not understand it.

`Don't yu see,' Green said, when the boy spoke of it. `I'd be playin' their game? I'm not ready for a showdown yet.'

Another dissatisfied occupant of the ranch was Noreen. Accustomed to the unqualified devotion of all the men she met, she found the aloofness of the newcomer a little disturbing, the more so that she was unable--though she would not admit it--to adopt the same attitude. In her presence he was polite, but quiet, almost stern, whereas she knew that with Larry, and some of the others, he could behave like a boy.

Girl-like, she invested him with mystery, and wove romance of a broken heart and blighted life round him. Once or twice she had deliberately given him opportunities to speak about himself, but he had- always evaded them. Larry, whom she cautiously pumped one day, could tell her nothing.

`I reckon he's had trouble,' the boy said. `Mebbe there's a sheriff a-lookin' for him, but if I was that sheriff I'd take mighty good care not to find him; he's hell on wheels when he gets goin'.'

But to the men he was not eulogistic, even going to the length of expressing the opinion that the newcomer's treatment of the gambler might have been a flash in the pan. More than once he was questioned, for there was a good deal of curiosity in the outfit as to the stranger's ability to take care of himself. He wore two guns, but no one had yet seen him use one. It was Larry who discovered that schemes were being hatched to `try-out' the new hand. The latter laughed grimly when the boy warned him.

`They're goin' to sic "Snap" Lunt on yu,' Larry said. `He's a killer, an' a shore wizard with a six-gun.'

Lunt had recently come back to the ranch, having been riding the line at the time of Green's appearance on the scene. He was a small man, with a twisted, wizened face like dried hide, a square, powerful body, and short legs bowed by years spent in the saddle. His one pride was in his ability to use a Colt, in which accomplishment he acknowledged only one superior. This admission, which was news to the others, was made at supper one evening when the talk had persistently veered to guns and gunmen.

`Who was that, Snap?' asked Simple.

The feller they call "Sudden,"' replied the gunman. `No, I never had a run in with him, or likely I wouldn't be here, but I saw him in action once, years ago when he warn't more than a kid. Neatest thing I ever see, an' it happened in Deadwater, which ain't a town no more. Sudden was in a saloon when the barkeeper, who was a good sort, gives him the word that three fellers, all known killers, is layin' for him.

` "There's a back door here," he sez. "Pull yore freight. Three to one is above the odds, an' nobody'll hold it against yu." ` "Yu bet they won't, but I'm thankin' yu all the same," sez Sudden, an' steps out into the street as unconcerned as the corpse at a buryin'.

`Them three buzzards is waitin' about twenty paces away, two of 'em on the opposite side o' the street, an' the other slinkin' up the same side as the saloon, an' their guns is out. But he beat 'em to it even then. Before they could git a shot out, the fellers across the street is tumblin' in the dust. The other chap fired one shot which might've hit a star mebbe, an' ran for his life. He looked round once, saw the boy's gun on him, an' tried to turn a corner that warn't there. His face was a sight; it looked like a herd o' cattle had stampeded across it, but, all the same, he was lucky; the other two had to be planted.'

`But don't yu reckon yo're faster now than yu were then, Snap?' asked Nigger.

`I know I am; but don't yu reckon he's improved too?' retorted the gunman. `Even if he ain't he's better'n me. I never saw a movement, an' them fellers were drilled plumb centre between the eyes.'

Sudden, the outlaw! Not a man there but had heard of him, and of his uncanny dexterity with weapons, and the ease with which he had so far eluded capture. The tale of his exploits grew as first one and then another related stories he had heard. Snap Lunt listened with an expression of tolerant contempt.

`An' more than half o' them I'll bet my hoss he never done,' he said presently. `When a feller gets a name, every killin', hold- up, or cattle-stealin' that can't be traced to anybody else gets his brand put on it.' There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice, and this deepened as he resumed. `A feller sometimes gets drove into the wrong road. Once it gets known that he's swift with a gun there always happens along a damn fool who thinks he can make a reputation by showin' he's a bit swifter. An' he ain't, so he gets wiped out, an' soon there's another damn fool--the world's full of 'em. By all accounts, Sudden fights fair, an' that's more than some did that went up against him.'

The others were silent for a moment; this was a new side to the man they had always regarded as a ruthless slayer of his fellows--one who took a delight in putting his art to its deadliest use. They sensed that he was telling his own story. It was Rattler who broke the spell; matters were not going as he wished.

'Well, Sudden may be all yu say, Snap; but some fellers sport two guns an' are afeared to use one.'

`Meanin'?' Lunt said quietly.

`Oh, I ain't referrin' to yu, Snap,' replied the foreman quickly. `We all know yo're game; yu have the right to wear a couple o' guns.'

`So has any other feller who cares to tote the weight,' came the reply. `Yu can rope yore own hoss, Rattler.'

Some of the men who knew what was toward looked at Lunt in surprise. Green watched the scene with a glint of a smile on his lips. He was well aware that the foreman was trying to engineer a quarrel between himself and Lunt, and that the latter had now definitely declined to be made use of. He began to have a feeling of respect for the little gunman.

The foreman glared; he had been plainly told to do his own dirty work, and though not lacking in animal courage, the task did not appeal to him. He was considered good with a forty-five himself, but the other man was an unknown quantity, and he could not understand why Lunt had `ducked.' It was Green himself who came to his rescue.

`There won't be any shootin', Blaynes,' he said, and there was an acid touch to his voice. `When there's any necessity, I can use my guns well enough. If yu don't choose to believe that, well'--he leaned forward, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, his eyes narrowed and alert--`pull yore own.'

For a moment there was tense silence. Blaynes, challenged in his turn, was obviously undecided. His right hand moved a fraction towards his holster, and then--he rasped out a laugh.

`Yu shore are a touchy feller, Green--can't stand a bit o' joshin',' he said. `Roundin' up rustlers 'pears to have got yu all jumpy.'

Green laughed too, and it was an unpleasant one for the foreman to swallow, but the conversation became general again, and the incident ended. Later on, Blaynes had a word with Lunt.

`Never knew yu to duck before, Snap,' he said. `What got into yu?'

`Duck nothin',' came the retort. `I ain't got no quarrel with the feller. Why didn't yu pull on him?'

`I'm foreman, an' I got my reasons,' Blaynes said sulkily. `Huh! Self-preservation don't happen to be one o' them, does it?' asked the other sarcastically.

The foreman ground out an oath. `I wait my time,' he said. `Sorry to find I can't depend on yu, that's all.'

`Yu can depend on me to do my work, but dry-nursin' yu ain't part of it,' the little gunman said bluntly, and walked away.

As he approached the bunkhouse, he met Green and Larry coming away, and stopped for a moment to say, `Green, however slick a man may be with a gun, he can be got--from behind.'

`Now what the blazes does he mean by that?' asked Larry, as the gunman, without waiting for a reply, went into the bunkhouse.

`He means a whole lot, I reckon,' answered his friend. `I fancy that's not such a bad hombre, Larry.'

`Well, he told Rattler straight out in meetin', anyways,' Larry said. `It's a point to remember.'

`Shore is. Yu got anythin' to tell me?'

`Not a durn thing,' was the disgusted rejoinder. `On'y that yu can count on Dirty, Ginger, an' Simple to back my play, whatever it is.'

`Well, that's somethin', anyhow. Trouble is, we ain't got no play to make yet. How long ago was the Double X started?' `Two-three years, I guess. Dex ain't got much of a herd.' `What's the size of his outfit?'

`Seven or eight, including the cook.'

`All of them men to handle a small herd, huh?'

`Well, now yu mention it, they shore didn't oughtta be overworked--never struck me that way before. Yu got anythin' else against 'em?'

Green shook his head. `We gotta wait, boy,' he said. `How's the Pretty Lady been treatin' yu lately?'

This was his name for Noreen, and it never failed to produce an embarrassed flush on the face of her young admirer. Larry countered quickly.

`I'm beginnin' to think she's more interested in a handsome mysterious stranger,' he retorted. `She was shore askin' me a lot o' questions.'

`An' yu told her?'

`All I knew.'

His friend grinned. `That musta taken yu quite a while,' he commented, with gentle sarcasm.

`Shore did,'. said Larry. `I explained how yore wife had left yu, takin' the kids, owin' to yu treatin' her so badly, drinkin' an' hellin' round generally, an' that two sheriffs were anxious to meet yu on account of a bank robbery, to say nothin' of the feller whose brother yu shot from behind-- Hi ! leggo my ear, yu two-gun mockery : it's long enough as it is.'

`It certainly is, an' the other's a match for it,' agreed the libelled one. `Get down on yore hunkers in the long grass an' no one could tell yu from a jack-rabbit. Yu'd be a lovely liar, Larry --on'y yu ain't always lovely.'

Larry caressed the injured member, feeling to discover if it really had started to come out by the roots.

`I wish I'd told her yu were a cannibal an' a hoss-thief,' he said regretfully. 'When're yu goin' to come alive an' catch the rustlers, huh?'

`Well, I got 'em scared, ain't I?' expostulated Green. `They ain't done nothin' for a week.'

Early on the following morning the inmates of the bunkhouse were aroused by a shout, and tumbling out half-dressed, they saw Durran drop wearily from a staggering pony. He had come in from the furthermost of the cabins used by the line-riders on the frontiers of the ranch. Rattler pushed to the front.

`What's up, Durran?' he asked.

`Rustlers, an' hell to pay,' was the gasped answer. `Few hours after dark las' night, 'bout seven or eight of 'em rushed me an' Bud, firm' as they come. They got Bud, shot my hoss, an' helped theirselves. Think. I perforated one, but I was afoot. Took me near an hour to catch Bud's pony, an' I been ridin' since.'

`Couldn't see who they were, I s'pose,' said the foreman.

`Blasted war-paints, every mother's son,' replied Durran emphatically, and Blaynes turned a triumphant eye on Green. A chorus of forceful curses greeted the news.

No more time was wasted. Breakfast was despatched in gulps, and in less than half an hour a dozen men, well-mounted and armed, were galloping at breakneck speed for the scene of the outrage. Green and Larry were of the number, and remembering the conversation of the previous night, the boy could not resist the opportunity.

`Yeah, yu got 'em scared, shore enough,' he murmured.

`Shut yore face, yu--yu jackass!' admonished his friend. `I've been expectin' this. Would yu have said that Bud and the foreman was bosom pals, so to speak?'

Barton shook his head. `No, nothin' like that, though I don't know of any trouble between 'em. Ginger was Bud's bunkie; look at him.'

The red-headed puncher was riding only a few yards from them, his young tanned face like stone, his jaws clamped and his eyes blazing. Suddenly he spoke :

`By God! if they've rubbed out Bud, I'll have a scalp for every one of his fingers if I have to go to the Reservation to get 'em.'

The savage threat of vengeance was shouted, as though the speaker had to give vent to his pent-up emotion. Several of the younger men gave grunts of approval, but only the foreman spoke, after a curious look at Ginger which Green did not fail to notice.

`Aw, save yore breath, Ginger,' Blaynes said. `Yu'll want it all before we're through; mebbe he ain't plugged bad.'

The wild burst of speed with which the party had started now slackened, and the riders pulled their mounts down to a steady lope which ate up the miles without unduly tiring the animals. The trail wound about, avoiding the rough country, and keeping to the open prairie where the going was good. Now and then they passed herds of feeding cattle. This was a part of the range Green had not yet explored. It was, he noticed, much nearer to the Big Chief mountains, and the grazing land was shut in by country of the wildest nature.

`When the cattle first began to vanish, Old Simon reckoned they just naturally strayed an' lost themselves,' Larry said. `So they built the cabins, and started line-ridin', but it ain't stopped the leak.'

Green was watching Durran, who, despite his exhaustion, had insisted on accompanying the party. He was now riding beside the foreman, and the pair were deep in conversation. Green frankly confessed himself puzzled. If these men were acting a part, they were doing it well. The unexpected incident was the slaying of Bud, for he felt sure that the puncher was dead. Utterly unnecessary, he could not believe that it was originally intended. Was it an accident, or did it become necessary? For the remainder of the long ride his companion got little out of him, and after one or two attempts at conversation, the boy gave up and rode in silence until they sighted their destination.

There's the cabin!' Larry cried.

It was small, but strongly-built of untrimmed logs chinked with clay, and looked peaceful enough in the bright sunshine. But tragedy was there. It was Ginger who, spurring ahead, first saw the body of his friend. Flinging himself from his horse, he snatched off his hat and stood looking down at the form outstretched on the grass but a bare fifty yards from the hut. One glance told him the worst.

One by one the men dismounted and bareheaded, grouped themselves around their fallen comrade. The foreman knelt to examine the body. A bullet had grazed the temple, and there was an ominous stain high in the chest. Rattler, who had not touched the dead man, stood up.

`He's cashed,' he said. `They got him twice. Two of yu carry him to the cabin; we'll send the wagon when we get back. Scatter now an' pick up the trail.'

Green interposed. `One minit, boys.' He stooped and gently opened the dead man's shirt at the neck, disclosing a gaping wound just below the collar-bone. `That crease on the head ain't nothin', though it likely fetched him off his hoss,' he continued. `This is what killed him, an' that's knife-work.'

He picked up Bud's revolver, which was lying near the body, No shots had been fired from it. The spot showed signs of a struggle : the grass was trampled, and there were deep marks of the cowboy's high heels, as though he had made desperate efforts to stand on his feet.

`What's it matter how it happened, anyway?' said the foreman contemptuously. `He's passed out, an' we gotta get on the track o' them that did it.'

Green did not reply, but remained looking at the spot after the poor clay had been taken to the hut and the others were searching for the raiders' trail. Suddenly a bright glint in the grass caught his eye; he stooped and slipped something into a pocket.

He walked over to the cabin. It consisted of one room only, furnished with two bunks, a table, a couple of chairs, and a stove. On a shelf were supplies of ammunition, tobacco, and food. These appeared to be untouched. The body had been deposited in one of the bunks, and Ginger was covering it with a blanket. His grief-stricken face was grim and hard : death he had seen before, but this time the fell Monarch had touched him nearly. Green put a hand on his shoulder.

`Ginger,' he said, `don't be in too big a hurry to start for the Reservation.'

The cowboy whirled, his narrowed, filmed eyes boring into the other. `Green,' he said hoarsely, `if you know anythin'--'

`I don't, but I got an idea,' was the quiet reply. `When I find out, I'll turn him over to yu, whoever he may be. That's a promise.'

Ginger held out his hand and they gripped. Then, turning to the blanketed form, he muttered thickly, 'I'll get him for yu, Buddy, don't yu worry,' and strode away.

Green followed, mounted his horse, and joined the others.

The trail of the riders had soon been found, and also the 'spot where, behind a clump of cottonwoods near the cabin, they had waited in ambush for the approach of the two cowboys. Beyond the fact that the horses were all shod, the ground told them nothing, and Blaynes wasted little time over it.

`Come on, boys, let's get after the damn thieves,' he cried, and spurred his mount into the broad trail left by the stolen beasts. `Pretty good gather,' muttered Larry, scanning the hoofprints over which they were galloping. `Three to four score, I reckon.' `Over four,' replied Green. `They pushed 'em hard too.'

This was evident from the depth of the indentations, but the pace must have decreased as the trail plunged deeper into the broken country. At the end of an hour the pursuers found themselves threading a labyrinth of gullies, brush-covered slopes, and thickets of cottonwood and spruce. The speed was not great, but they had the satisfaction of knowing that they must be travelling very much faster than the herd. Then came the danger signal: fitful puffs of wind, growing stronger and more frequent, told them what to expect. The sky grew black and the air cold.

`Damned storm a-comin', boys,' Rattler growled. `Reckon we'd better hole up here.'

Hurriedly the men dismounted, donned their slickers, hobbled and tied the horses, turning them with their rumps to the wind, and sought shelter for themselves. Huddled close against rock or tree-stump, they awaited the misery they could not escape. Another moment and the storm was upon them; a terrific wind snatched at their garments, and drove millions of stinging grains of sand upon and through them. Muffled up as they were, the devilish particles penetrated, and the horses squealed, while the men swore under the torture of thousands of pricking needles. For nearly an hour they endured the agony of hell itself, and then the storm passed; the maddening patter of sand on saddle and slicker ceased, and the men arose and sought avidly for their canteens.

`She was shore a fierce little blow,' remarked Dirty, his throat having become usable again. `Wonder where she picked up the sand?'

`Huh ! Not much doubt about that,' growled the foreman. `She's come right across Sandy Parlour, an' if this trail leads to it--an' I'm bettin' it does--every blasted track'll be wiped out.'

Half an hour's riding proved that Blaynes had surmised correctly. The cattle-tracks ended on the edge of a broad stretch of desert, the face of which had been swept smooth by the storm. The foreman shrugged his shoulders in disgust.

`Don't it beat all, the luck they has?' he asked. `Well, boys, it ain't no use agoin' on. To search Sandy Parlour without a trail'd be wuss than lookin' for a nigger on a pitch-black night, an' we don't know where they're a-comin' out.'

The men looked at one another; it was evident that some of the younger men did not like the idea of giving up the pursuit, but the foreman's contention was sound. Green alone spoke:

`See here, Blaynes : I admit it looks a pretty hopeless proposition, but why not let me an' one o' the boys snoop around for awhile an' see if we can pick up a trail?'

The foremen grinned unpleasantly as he replied, `Well, it's yore job, ain't it? What's the idea o' yu wanting help? Ain't gettin' modest, are yu?'

Green chose to ignore the sneer. The idea is that if we do hit on the trail, I can send for yu an' the boys while I foller it up,' he said quietly. `I'll take Barton--he's got a fast hoss.'

Blaynes nodded sulkily. Two fellers wastin' time 'stead o' one, an' we're short-handed,' he growled.

He made no further protest, however, and in a few moments Green and Larry were alone. Perhaps of all the posse, Ginger alone envied them their task. His parting words were, `Yu find that trail, boys, an' we'll come a-bilin'.'

`Good Injun trick, crossing the Sandy,' remarked Larry. `Good Injun nothin',' retorted his companion. `Yu ain't swallowin' that redskin rubbish, are yu?'

`But Durran said

`An' Durran's christian names are George Washington, ain't they? An' he looks a truthful man. Come awake, feller, an' ask yoreself if Injuns are likely to leave a couple o' rifles, an' all the ammunition an' stores in the hut when they'd all the time there is to take 'em away?'

Larry looked thoughtful. `It certainly don't seem to fit in,' he admitted.

`An' here's somethin' else that don't fit in,' Green went on, fishing out the object he had picked up near the body. What the blazes is that?' queried Larry.

`She's a pocket machine for making smokes--I seen 'em when I was East a while ago. Here is how she works.'

He got out his makings and in a few moments produced a cigarette, while Larry looked on in undisguised amazement. `Didn't belong to Bud, I reckon?' Green asked.

`No, Bud rolled his own pills,' Larry said, and then, `Ain't it the lady's pet now? If we can spot the dude that lost it...

`We got the feller that Ginger's wantin' bad to meet,' interrupted his friend. `But we got to find that trail first. Know anythin' about this Sandy Parlour?'

`Yeah. I've crossed her once. She ain't as big as some, but there's too much of her to search. Our best bet is to keep along the edge to the right, an' watch for a trail comin' out.'

'An' the quicker we start, the sooner we get there,' said Green. `C'mon.'

Hugging the border of the desert as closely as possible, they rode along. The elder man's thoughts were milling round the slaying of the cowboy. Had he been shot, it might have figured as a likely enough incident of the raid, but the knife-wound told a different story. Green believed that the boy had recognised one of the marauders, and incautiously betrayed the fact. Durran's tale was he had seen Bud fall from his horse at the first discharge, and concluding that he was done for, had shifted for himself, with the one idea of carrying the news to the ranch as soon as possible. Green could find nothing to disprove this, and yet he did not believe it.

Chapter VI

IN the big living-room of the Y Z ranch Old Simon and his daughter heard the foreman's account of the day's happenings. The girl's eyes filled with tears when the finding of Bud was related, for the boy was the youngest and one of the gayest in the outfit. The ranch-owner mumbled oaths in his beard and listened with a darkening face.

`What do yu make of it, Blaynes?' he asked, in perplexity.

`It's just what I've allus told yu,' replied the other, trying to keep a note of triumph out of his voice. `Durran said as how they were "whoops"--every mother's son of 'em.'

"Funny they didn't loot the cabin,' mused the old man. `It ain't like Injuns to miss a bet like that.'

`Huh ! Reckon they didn't think of it. They was doin' pretty well to get away with the herd,' Rattler rejoined.

`Biggest loss we've had. 'Bout eighty head, yu say?'

The foreman nodded. `All that,' he said.

`An' yu left Green an' Barton to search a piece further?'

`Yes, nothin' else for it; no use all of us a-foolin' around. I'd say it was a good chance for the new feller to do somethin', if he ain't a-doin' it already.'

Old Simon looked up sharply. `Speak plain,' he said. `What's yore idea?'

`Well, o' course, I ain't sayin' it's so,' Blaynes replied slowly; `but look it over. We don't know nothin' about this feller. Yu take him on an' give him a free rein, an' 'stead of the rustlin' stoppin', it gets wuss.'

`Yu mean he's workin' with 'em?'

The foreman shrugged his shoulder and shot a glance at the girl.

`I don't say so,' he temporised. `I'm on'y suggestin' what might be.'

`In that case he must be working with the Apaches,' said Noreen quietly. `I shouldn't have thought he was a mean enough white to do that.'

Blaynes instantly saw the trap into which his eagerness to discredit Green had led him.

`It shore don't seem likely, I admit,' he said. `But yu can't never tell. An' yu got to agree he ain't done much, so far.'

`Let us hope he finds the trail again,' the girl said. `Surely a big bunch of cattle like that cannot be spirited away without leaving a trace.'

`That darned sandstorm come just at the right time for 'em,' grumbled the foreman. `I've told the boys to be ready to start the minit we hear from Green.'

He went out, and for some time there was silence. Then the girl said impulsively :

`I don't believe it.'

`Don't believe what, honey?' asked her father.

`That Green is working with the Indians,' she replied. `He doesn't look that sort of man.'

`This is a tough country, an' looks don't tell yu much,' commented Simon; `but I don't hardly think it's so myself. Any-ways, it is shore up to him to get busy an' prove himself.'

The day was far advanced when a shout from Green brought Barton, who had been riding a piece away, to his side, on the brink of a small draw which formed an outlet from the desert. On the sandy floor, protected from the wind by a highish bank, were the hoof prints of cattle and horses.

`Whoopee!' cried Larry. `This must be where they come off the Parlour.'

"Pears so,' Green agreed, and walked his horse down to examine the trail more closely. `What do yu make o' that?'

Larry looked where his companion pointed, and gave vent to a low whistle. `One of 'em has got off, an' he's wearin' boots--our kind o' boots,' he said.

In fact, the prints showed plainly that the footwear in question were of the narrow-soled variety affected by the cowboy, not out of vanity, but because they are of practical use to him in his work; roping on foot would be well-nigh impossible without them.

`There's a white man with 'em,' Larry decided.

`On'y one?' queried Green, a glint of humour wrinkling the

corners of his eyes. `Huh ! they ain't as clever as I figured. If I wanted to play at Injuns, boots is the first thing I would throw into the discard.'

Larry's eyes opened. `Yu think it's a bunch o' whites masqueradin' as Injuns?' he asked.

`Shore,' was the confident reply. `An' Bud was unlucky; he found out, an' they had to close his mouth.'

`I'll be damned if you ain't right!' ejaculated Larry, after a moment's thought.

Yu'll be damned anyway,' his friend retorted. `Get a move on, an' we'll see where this trail takes us while the light holds.' They were able to make good time, for the trail was plain and easy to follow, twisting and turning where obstacles had to be overcome. Before they had gone many miles, however, they were forced to camp for the night. This they did under a rocky bluff which enabled them to make a fire without much risk of the light being visible. They had food with them, and this despatched, they rolled up in their blankets and slept like dead men. Sunrise saw them astir again, and breakfast over, they caught and saddled their mounts.

`Yu'd better strike for the Y Z an' fetch the boys,' Green said. `Wish I'd brought Blue; he'd have made better time under yu than that bone-rack yu call a hoss.' For Green was riding the pony on which he had made his first appearance at Hatchett's Folly.

`Think so, do you?' replied Barton, who sensed the grin underlying the words. `I ain't aimin' to straddle no volcano in eruption; yu shore oughtta call him Vesuvius, that brute. This little hoss is good enough for me.'

`Shore, I know that,' came the quick reply; `but--'

`Yah! Go an' find a rustler, yu long-laigged misfit,' yelled Larry, as he rode away. `An' don't hog all the glory by capturing the whole bunch before we get in the game.'

`I'll save a little one for yu,' Green told him. `An' say, remember yu don't know nothin'; just be yore natural self.'

With a most disrespectful gesture, the boy rode off, and the older man smiled as he murmured, `He's a good kid all right, but he shore has a lot to learn.'

He followed the tracks for an hour, and then found that they joined a bigger and evidently older trail which had a familiar appearance. He had covered only a mile or two when his suspicions were verified, for he stood again at the entrance to the blind canyon which he had stumbled upon before, with the wide shallow stream and the baffling stretch of hard ground on the far side. Had the stolen cattle been driven across this and thrown on to the open trail leading to the Double X? Somehow he did not think so.

`Reckon I'll have another look at the canyon,' he decided. Forcing his horse into the water, he rode slowly upstream between the jaws of the gorge, looking closely on both sides for tracks. Presently he stopped short, for in a little sandy bay leading up to a cleft in the rock-face were the plain hoofprints of horses. Loosening his guns in their holsters, he followed the tracks. The cleft proved to be bigger than it looked, and almost choked with trees and brush, but a narrow path led up and out. Green rode slowly, head down to avoid the outflung branches on the trees, which got thicker as he climbed higher.

Suddenly came the swish of a rope, the loop dropped over his shoulders and he was yanked violently from the saddle; his horse, with a snort of fear, sprang from the trail and crashed from sight into the undergrowth. The moment Green struck the ground, which he did on his back, two men sprang upon him. They soon learned that despite the fact that his arms were pinioned, he was not done with. His right leg, drawn up to his body, shot out like a released spring, and the heel of his boot caught one of the charging men full in the stomach, hurling him, doubled up with agony, into the brush. His companion, however, flung himself full-length on the captive, and with the help of two more who now appeared on the scene succeeded in turning him on his face and tying his wrists securely behind him, having first slipped the rope under his armpits.

Now, fella, yu can either walk or be drug, which yu like,' growled one of the captors.

Green struggled to his feet and followed in silence. The party appeared to consist of four only. All were dressed in cowboy garb, and had handkerchiefs, slitted for the eyes, over their faces, and hat-brims slouched down to further conceal their identity. The man Green had kicked was still complaining and cursing.

`Aw, stop yore belly-achin',' said one of the others. `Yu musta bin loco to tackle him from the front.'

The hurt one spat out an oath in reply and staggered on up the winding path. Presently they stopped, and Green saw that they were on the tree-clad top of one of the walls of the canyon. Before them was a strip of grass, and then a straight drop of hundreds of feet on to the rocky floor below. The man who had addressed Green now spoke again: `Them tracks down there was made a-purpose,' he sneered, `an' yu shore walked into the trap, didn't yu? Well, we understand that yo're anxious to have a look at the country, an' we aim to give yu that same. We're agoin' to hang yu over the edge o' the cliff here. When yo're tired o' the view, let out a holler, an' perhaps someone'll hear yu.'

The others sniggered at the taunt, and the fellow who had been kicked added, `An' it oughtta cure yu o' pokin' yore nose where it ain't wanted.'

`Thought it was his foot, Snub,' gibed a third, and was instantly and heartily cursed for the slip.

`Bah! what's the odds? He'll cash anyway,' he defended himself.

`Mebbe he will; but that don't excuse yu for bein' every sort of a damned fool,' came the angry retort.

Green held his peace. He realised that he was helpless and that any protest would be futile. That these men had carried out or assisted in the raid he had no doubt, and having secured their booty, they had laid a trap into which he had blundered. That they would not allow a trifle like murder to stand in their way the removal of Bud had already proved. Any hope of a rescue by the Y Z boys he had himself destroyed by hiding his trail up the canyon.

`Anythin' to say?' queried the one who appeared to be the leader.

`What's the use?' retorted the prisoner coolly. `Get on with the murder, yu pack o' cowardly coyotes.'

`Murder?' grinned the other. `Why, we ain't goin' to do a thing to yu. O' course, if yu decide to stay where we put yu, it's more'n likely yu'll get hungry, but that's yore affair.'

He gestured with his hand to his followers, and while one of them secured the end of the lasso to the trunk of a neighbouring tree, the other two marched Green to the edge of the precipice, deftly knocked his legs from under him, hauling on the rope as he fell so that there was no sudden jerk. They left him swinging there against the face of the cliff, and he heard the mocking `Adios' as they rode away.

Green realised that his chance of escape was a slim one indeed. He was in the depths of the wild country, and it might be weeks before another human being chanced that way. Beneath him was a sheer fall to the bed of the canyon; above, by tilting back his head, he could see the edge of the cliff a scant ten yards away. Only ten yards, but with his hands bound it might as well have been ten thousand. He strained at the thong on his wrists, but it was seasoned rawhide.

He fell to wondering how long a man could live without food and drink. Days, no doubt--days of unspeakable torture. Already the blazing sun seemed to have sucked every drop of moisture from his body, and he was thirsty. He had seen men die of thirst, and to get his mind on something else, he took his `look at the country.' In other circumstances, the view would have impressed him with its savage grandeur. An unending succession of peaks, gorges, and forest-clad ridges stretched down from the Big Chief range and merged with expanses of rollingcountry in the direction in which he knew the Y Z ranch lay. Tiny streams, transformed by the blazing sun into winding strips of burnished silver, flashed here and there, while away on the left he could see a treeless blotch of yellow which he guessed must be Sandy Parlour.

A wheeling spot far away in the sky caught his roving eye, and his first thought was one of envy--the bird was free, it could go where it wished. Then a second spot joined the first, and a third. He watched them curiously; they were coming nearer, and apparently heading straight for the canyon.

`Vultures,' he muttered. `Wonder what they've spotted?' No sooner were the words spoken than he knew--he himself was the attraction. `God!' he said, and his fingers instinctively clawed nhe cliff behind him. `An' that's why those hounds left me my guns, knowin' it would make it harder.'

Suddenly his whole body tensed : his clunching fingers had found a rough edge of rock, and by raising and lowering his wrists, he could chafe the thong against it. Feverishly he set to work, lacerating his hands in the process. The task was painfully laborious, since he could bring no pressure to bear, but it was his only hope. The vultures, now numbering half a dozen, came steadily on, and he could see in the stretch of sky other specks hastening to the feast.

`They ain't got me yet,' he gritted. `Wonder how long I can keep 'em off by shoutin'?'

Resolutely he applied himself to his task, though his muscles ached and his whole body was faint with fatigue. The birds were near now; he could hear their fierce cries and the noise of their wings as they whirled above his head. He knew that it would not be long before they would descend to attack. The thought of those great, curved, cruel beaks and his own defenceless eyes made him shiver.

Lower and lower wheeled the wild scavengers of the desert, until suddenly one, hungrier or more daring than the rest, swopped down upon the prey. The man saw it coming and gave vent to a loud yell, which sent the attacking bird away on a wide sweep and momentarily scattered the others. But he knew they would quickly return, and worked desperately.

His fears were soon justified. The flapping of the great wings grew louder as the birds wheeled in lessening circles above him. Again one of them dashed at his face, but swerved when he shouted. Nevertheless, it passed so close that a wingtip brushed his cheek. The whole flock was now perilously near, and a combined swoop by several of the birds would be the beginning of the end.

Summoning all his remaining strength, he wrenched savagely at his bonds, and fancied he felt them give a little. Another supreme effort which nearly dislocated his wrists and the thong parted. Torn, bruised, and numb, it was some moments before he could use the hands he had freed. Then, spreading out and trying the fingers gingerly, he drew one of his guns and waited for the coming onslaught. He had obtained his freedom only just in time, for the vultures, sensing that he was helpless, and emboldened by increasing numbers, now bunched together and swept down upon him. Green waited until they were only a few yards distant, and then fired four shots into the thick of them. Three dropped flapping and screaming into the abyss, while the remainder whirled past and upwards, and were soon mere specks in the sky again.

Having reloaded his weapon, Green dropped it back into the holster, and began chafing his numbed arms in preparation for the task of scaling the cliff. The stiffness mitigated, he twisted round to face the rock, gripped the rope as high as possible, and began hauling himself up hand over hand. It was no small job, even for one possessing the superb muscles with which a clean, open-air life had endowed the cowpuncher.

`Glad they wasted a new rope on me,' he panted, as he jerked and swayed dizily over the chasm. `An old one, an' them birds would've got their meal shore enough.'

Inch by inch he worked his way up, little roughnesses in the face of the cliff affording a slight hold for his toes and thus enabling him to rest occasionally, but his strength was fully spent when as last he dragged his weary body over the brink and lay gasping on the grass above. For ten minutes or more he remained prone on the ground, taking in great gulps of air, and oblivious to everything save the fact that the necessity for violent, incessant effort had ceased. Presently he stood up.

`Gosh, out it's grand to stand on a solid bit o' earth again!' he said. `Never did like the notion o' dancin' on nothin'. Wonder how far that blamed boss o' mine went?'

He put his fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Getting no result, he coiled the rope and made his way down the trail which had led to his undoing. When he reached the spot where he had been roped, he whistled again, and waited. Presently came the sound of something forcing its way through the brush and his pony appeared.

`Yu son of a gun,' said the cowpuncher, and his tone betrayed a whimsical affection, `I shore didn't waste my time trainin' yu.'

A drink from his canteen refreshed him, and, mounting the horse, he climbed the cliff again to see if he could pick up the trail of his assailants. In this he was successful, and followed it for some miles, until it became lost in a wide cattle-trail which he took to be the one leading to the Double X, but whether the horsemen had gone to that ranch, or turned the other way, he could not discover.

`Reckon I'll call it a day,' he concluded, and turned his horse in the direction of the Y Z.

At the corral he encountered Larry, and soon learned that the outfit had been no more successful than he himself. They had followed him to the blind canyon, crossed the stream and the stretch of shale to the big trail, and then the foreman had decided that the quest was hopeless, and ordered them all back to the ranch.

`We was shore worried about yu--'specially Rattler,' the boy concluded. `Where in 'ell did yu get to?'

`Oh, I was around,' replied Green. `Any feller answerin' to the name of "Snub" in these parts?'

`Shore is. One of the Double X lot. Don't know anythin' of him. Yu don't think--'

`Yes, I do, sometimes,' smiled Green. `It don't hurt, when yu get used to it. Yu oughtta try it.'

`If I didn't feel scared it would make me look like yu, I might,' countered Larry. `Say, I near forgot it--the Old Man wants to see yu. I met Miss Norry just now an' she told me.'

`An' yu near forgot her message,' reproved Green, with twinkling eyes. `Larry, I'm plumb ashamed of yu.'

`Aw, yu go to--' But Green was already on his way to the ranch-house.

He found Simon, with his daughter and Blaynes, sitting on the verandah, and, at the request of his employer, gave a bald account of what had happened to him. When he had finished, the foreman burst into a loud laugh, which was cut short when Noreen said indignantly :

`I don't see anything amusing about a cold-blooded attempt at murder.'

`Aw, Miss Noreen, yu got it wrong,' protested the offender. `Them Double X boys--if it was them--was just playing a joke. They meant to leave him there to cook in the sun for an hour or two, until they come back to pull him up again. They certainly seem to have got yu scared, Green.'

`Scared? Why, I'm near grey-headed now,' returned Green, and grinned. `Yu think it was just a joke, eh?'

`Shore of it,' replied the foreman.

`Well, yu know 'em better than I do,' was the meaning retort. `Next time yu see yore friend Snub, tell him from me that practical jokin' is a game two can play at.'

'Yo're callin' the wrong card,' snapped the foreman. `I ain't got no friends at the Double X, but if ever I meet this feller Snub I'll shore deliver yore message.'

`A pretty sort of practical joke,' the girl said contemptuously. `It mades me shudder to think of those horrible birds.'

`They musta forgot to tell the vultures it was only a game,' Green said gravely, and had the satisfaction of seeing the foreman squirm when Noreen laughed at him. `I understand yu lost the trail again?'

`We follered it as far as it went,' snorted the other. `I'm as good as the next at teadin' sign, but I don't claim to be able to see it when it ain't there.'

`Well, we don't appear to be gettin' any forrader,' interposed Old Simon. 'Yu'd better turn in, Blaynes; yu've had a long day.'

This was a dismissal, and the foreman, very unwillingly, had to take his departure. When he had gone, the ranch-owner turned to the cowpuncher.

`The joke idea don't appeal to yu none?'

Green smiled. `I reckon my sense o' humour must be some shy,' he said.

`Think the Double X is mixed up in the rustlin'?'

`I dunno, I got nothin' on them--yet; but have yu ever thought what a nice convenient brand the Double X might be? See here.'

He took pencil and paper from his pocket, drew something, and handed the result to Old Simon. `There's yore brand,' he said, `an' by the side of it is what a smart feller with a runnin' iron an' a wet blanket might do to it.'

The ranch-owner gave one glance at the paper and swore softly. `By heaven, it's as easy as takin' a drink ! I've a mind to call Dexter's hand to-morrow.'

`That won't get yu nowhere,' Green pointed out. `If they're doin' it, yu can bet they're coverin' their tracks, an' my hunch is that they ain't in it alone. We gotta get more evidence; yu couldn't hang a dog on this.'

`Mebbe yo're right,' Simon admitted. `So yu guess it's whites passin' as Injuns? Blaynes warn't so wide o' the mark then.' `It is only a guess, an' we'd better keep it under our hats for the present,' Green replied. `Any other ranch round here been losin' cattle?'

`There's only the Frying Pan, thirty mile to the west of us. I saw Leeming, the boss, in Hatchett's a week or so back, an' he didn't have any complaints.'

Several times during the conversation Green's glance had unconsciously rested on Noreen, and he had been disconcerted to find that on each occasion she had been regarding him steadily. Sitting there in the fading light, she made a picture to content any man. The recent tragedy had left its mark upon her, and instead of a merry, laughing girl, he now saw a serious, sweet-faced woman. `Larry will be a very lucky chap,' he thought, and was instantly conscious that he did not believe it.

`Well, I'll be driftin' along,' he said, rising. `Let yu know if there's anythin' fresh.'

`Don't you think, Daddy, that Mr. Green ought to have help?' Noreen asked quietly.

`Why, that's a good notion, girl,' her father said instantly. `What about takin' one o' the boys with yu, Green?'

`It's shore kind o' Miss Noreen to suggest it, an' I hope the time's comin' when I'll need assistance, but till it does come I'd rather go it single-handed,' the cowpuncher replied. `I guess Barton would jump at the invite. Mebbe yu were thinkin' of him?' he added with a smile.

`I hadn't anyone in particular in mind,' Noreen returned. `I should have thought Larry had not sufficient experience; he is only a boy.'

`He's a mighty good one--I wouldn't ask for a better,' said Green, and the girl wondered at the sudden warmth in his tone.

`Oh, I'm sure of that; but he's so--young,' she explained lamely.

`Well, I guess he'll grow out o' that soon enough,' chuckled Simon. `Anyways, yu can have him, or any o' the others when yu say, Green.'

Walking back to the bunkhouse, the puncher turned the conversation over in his mind, and came to the conclusion that Larry would not be lucky. `Only a boy ! An' he's a coupla years older than she is,' he murmured. `Women shore age quicker'n we do.'

His entrance into the bunkhouse was the signal for a burst of merriment from the older men, and he immediately divined that the foreman had been relating the story of his discomfiture. Durran was the first to fire a shot.

`I hear as how yu bin havin' a look at the country, Green,' he said, with a wide grin.

`An' that yu found the rustlers' hang-out,' added Nigger, with a marked emphasis on the last word.

Will yu walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly,' hummed another. `An' the fly wasn't fly enough to.'

A shout of laughter greeted this effort, and Durran slapped the singer enthusiastically on the back. `"That's damned good, Bent,' he cried. `The spider--haw, haw! Damned good, that is. An' do yu reckon the parlour mighta bin a sandy one?'

`I guess likely it was,' grinned Bent. `An' the unsuspicious insect musta belonged to the specie the gardener sharps call greenfly.'

This sally produced a positive howl of mirth, and Durran rocked to and fro, slapping the humorist's back, and murmuring, `Yu shore will be the death o' me, Bent.'

The man at whom these gibes were directed looked around with a sardonic smile. He saw Larry and his little following were taking no part in the merriment, and that Snap Lunt was watching him curiously. The little gunman did not appear to be amused, but he was clearly interested. Dropping easily into a seat, Green waited until all the would-be wits had had their say and then fired a return shot.

`This is shore the best-tempered outfit I ever met up with,' and there was an edge on his voice which cut like a razor. `Why, if any gang had run a blazer like this "joke" on the old K T in Texas, the boys would've painted for war immediate. But I reckon yu ain't called "Wise-heads" for nothin', and the Double X has got yu right buffaloed.'

This was another aspect of the affair, and even the loudest laughers looked a bit uncomfortable, while on the younger men the effect was electrical. Ginger sprang to his feet instantly.

`Buffaloed nothin',' he cried. `Why, if anybody's goin' to think that, me an' two-three of us'll go an' corral the Double X gang an' hang 'em over the cliff in their own ropes.'

Green laughed. `Sho, that wouldn't be the act of a "Wise-head," Ginger,' he reproved. `Yu needn't to worry none about them jokers, either--they'll get theirs. I don't need help to curry a little hoss like that. An' yore foreman'll tell yu that yu got a bigger job. Yu gotta find the Injuns who are rustlin' steers an' killin' yore friends.'

`I thought that was yore job,' sneered Blaynes.

`Why, I believe the Old man did say somethin' about it,' replied the puncher evenly. `I'll have to 'tend to it.'

`An' watch out for the spider,' jeered Durran.

`I shore will. I'm obliged to yu for remindin' me, Durran,' smiled Green, not failing to note the scowl which the foreman directed at the speaker.

Chapter VII

ON the following morning a rider spurred his mount down the main and only street of Hatchett's Folly, and found it, as he had expected at that time of the day, deserted, save for a dog or two prowling in search of spots where the blistering sun could not reach them with its full intensity. Without troubling to slow up, he wrenched a bit and brought his horse no a sliding stop in front of the Folly saloon, the dug-in hoofs sending up clouds of dust. He was a short, stoutish man of about thirty, with hair almost bleached by the sun, and a blob of a nose which had heavenly aspirations and had got its owner into more trouble than any respectable nose should.

Dismounting with a whoop, he hitched his pony to the rail, and entered the saloon. He found it almost as deserted as the street outside. Two men were playing cards in a desultory way at one of the tables, and another was leaning carelessly against the bar, talking to Silas. One glance at this third made the newcomer stiffen and hesitate in the doorway; but it was too late for retreat : the barkeeper had seen him.

`Howdy, Snub ! Come right in,' he called. `How long yu bin sufferin' from it?'

`Sufferin' from what?' asked the other, as he complied with the invitation.

`Bashfulness at the sight of a bar,' was the reply.

`Ain't never had it,' retorted the newcomer. `That sun's powerful glary out there, an' for a minit I couldn't see a thing.'

At the mention of the name, Green shot one swift glance at the man, but showed no other sign of interest. Snub exchanged greetings with the other two citizens and poured himself a generous drink from the bottle Silas pushed forward.

`How's tricks at the Double X?' asked that worthy.

`So so. Them damn Injuns lifted another half-dozen head, an' Dex is hoppin' mad about it,' replied the puncher, watching Green warily as he spoke. Did the fellow know him or not? he wondered. The nickname so incautiously divulged in the canyon might have escaped the captive's notice; there was nothing in the lounging figure to lead him to think otherwise, and he began to feel easier. Rolling a cigarette, he put it between his lips and struck a match. He was in the act of lighting up when a shot crashed, and the bullet twitched the burning wood from his fingers. It was immediately followed by a second, which removed half of his cigarette, and a third which tore away the remaining portion, leaving only fragments of paper and tobacco clinging to his lips.

`What the 'ell?' he gasped, gazing pop-eyed at the still-lolling

stranger, whose eyes gleamed with satanic amusement, and around whose hips blue smoke was eddying.

`Just a little joke--little practical joke, friend--habit I got,' explained the marksman in a soft drawling voice. `Seein' that I've just naturally ruined yore smoke, have a cigar with me.'

He motioned to Silas, threw the money on the counter and went out, unconcernedly turning his broad back and offering an easy target. But Snub watched him go in a kind of trance.

`My Gawd!' he said in an awed voice. `Three shots, firin' from the hip. An' I was watchin' him an' never saw a move. Who is he?'

`That's the new "Wise-head" puncher,' said the barkeeper with a sly smile, for he had his own opinion of Snub, and was not greatly grieved to see him set back a little.

`I know that. An' he's shore got the right brand. But who is he?' persisted the victim of the `little joke.' Then, with a shaky laugh, he added, `An' that's the feller Poker is claimin' he'll get. Well, he can have him--entire--hide, horns, hoofs, an' taller. I don't want none m'self.'

`Yu oughtta be thankful yore nose is set the way it is,' grinned Silas. `If yu had bin a Jew, yore smeller woulda bin plumb spoiled by that last shot.'

`An' that's awful true,' chimed in another voice, and Snap Lunt joined them. "Lo, Silas. 'Lo, Snub; yu look like yu been seein' visions.'

`Did yu see it, Snap?' asked the bartender.

`Yeah, I was at the door,' was the reply. `Pretty fair shootin'.' `Pretty fair shootin'?' repeated the indignant victim. `Why, I reckon even yu couldn't equal it, Snap.'

`Mebbe not,' retorted the gunman, with the nearest thing to a smile that ever appeared on his face. `But roll yoreself a pill; I'm willin' to try.'

`Not on me, yu won't,' Snub said instantly. `I take it back. Yu could do it--an' more. I don't want no proof. Here, Silas, give this bloody-minded sharp-shooter somethin' else to think of. An' he called it a joke, Snap. What yu think o' that?'

`Well, if that's his idea of a joke, I should walk round him, a long way round him--mile or so--when he's feelin' humorous,' Lunt replied. Meanwhile the subject of this conversation, on leaving the saloon, had gone to the main emporium of the place, a sort of general store which stood next to the hotel. He had not noticed Snap, for the gunman, seeing that he was about to come out, had slipped round the corner of the Folly. He found the proprietor, a grizzled old pioneer of sixty, ready to talk.

Was that shootin' I heard over to the s'loon?' he asked.

`Only a puncher a-showin' off. No harm done,' Green toldhim. 'Gimmee two boxes o' forty-fives an' a coupla sacks o' smokin'. Don't sell no cigarette-making machines, I s'pose?' `Never heard tell of 'em,' said the merchant. `Fellers 'bout here all got fingers.'

`Yu been here a long whiles?' the puncher queried, while the ordered goods were being produced.

`I helped to start the blasted place--come in with old Hatchett hisself. Yessir, an' we all reckoned we was goin' to strike it rich, but it was a false alarm. My, but she was a lively town while the gold-boom lasted ! An' there was more money in undertakin' than minim'. I expect I'm about the on'y one o' that crowd left.'

`Yu was here when Old Simon sifted in from--now where was it I heard he came from?'

`Texas. Though I can't call to mind the name o' the place. Yes, that'd be around eighteen years back. It was him comin' decided me to stop on. Curious feller, Old Simon. Kept his affairs strictly under his own hat. Allus give me the idea he didn't want to be found.'

`How was that?' Green asked interestedly.

`Just a fancy o' mine, p'raps; but years ago I've seen him in thisyer store, an' if a stranger come into town he'd keep outa sight till he'd had a good look at him.'

`Ever see his wife?'

`He didn't have none when he come here. There was just him, and the girl, and a Injun woman to keep house an' look after the kid.'

Glancing out of the door, Green saw the Double X puncher crossing the street to the hotel, outside which he was joined by the slouching figure of the gambler, Poker Pete. They stood conversing a few moments, and then the cowboy got his horse, mounted, and rode in the direction of his ranch. His companion re-entered the hotel. Green turned no the storekeeper.

`How long has that tinhorn card-sharp, Pete, been infestin' these parts?' he asked.

The old man made a gesture of caution. `For the love o' Mike don't shout it,' he urged. `While I allow he's all that an' more, it ain't noways wise to say so. He's got a powerful pull in these parts, an' fellers as go against him don't seem to last long. He don't live here--been sort o' payin' visits off an' on 'bout two years, stayin' at the hotel.'

`Well, I'm shore scared,' laughed the customer, as he paid for his purchases. `So long, old-timer.'

Crossing the street, he mounted his horse, fully conscious that he was being watched by at least a dozen citizens. The story of his `joke' on Snub was now common property and men who had not seen the shooting naturally wanted a look at the man who had done it. Opposite the hotel he pulled up and sat looking at the building. `The buzzard shan't say I didn't give him a chance no make a play,' he muntered. But the gambler did not appear, and after a wait of some minutes, Green rode on.

Three miles out of the town the trail forked, one way leading to the Y Z, and the other to the Double X. Green hesitated here, and then selected the latter. Passing through a narrow, winding gorge a faint clink, as of metal upon stone, warned him that another traveller was behind. He could see no one, but not feeling in the mood for risks, promptly took cover behind a clump of scrub-oak some ten yards from the trail. As the rider emerged round the bend, the watcher gripped the nostrils of his pony to prevent it from whinnying. The other traveller proved to be Poker Pete. He loped past unsuspectingly, hunched in his saddle, and with a dark frown on his unprepossessing feanures.

Now where's he goin'?' speculated nhe cowboy. `Can't be follerin' me--he'd expect me to take the other trail. Well, there's on'y one way to find out.'

He mounned and rode cautiously in the wake of the gambler, keeping well to the rear, and guiding his horse into the soft parts of the trail so that no sound of hoof should reach the man in front. The frequent bends and twists in the trail made it a simple matter to keep out of sight. It was after a rather abrupt turn that he feared he had lost his quarry. The gambler was not in view, despite a straight stretch ahead which he could hardly have covered in the time without a considerable speeding up. Green looked about for another explanation of his disappearance. A cracking twig supplied one. It came from a narrow draw on the left of the trail. There was a faint pathway, and the puncher, keeping a wary eye on the undergrowth, followed it. Presently a thin spiral of smoke showed against the right-hand wall of the draw, and he heard a voice say: "Lo, Pete. Yu bin a long time a-comin'.'

Green slid from the saddle, tied the animal in the bushes, and began to climb the side of the draw. Foot by foot he worked his way up and along until, by parting the coarse grass, he could see the spot from which the smoke was ascending. By the side of a small fire Pete and Snub were squatting cross-legged, and the cowboy was pouring coffee from a battered pot into two tin mugs. Green had missed some of the conversation, but he soon gathered that Pete was in a vile temper.

`Four of yu, an' then yu had to let him get away,' he sneered. `Why didn't yu bump him off an' plant him 'stead o' makin' that fool-play?'

`It looked a shore thing,' remonstrated the other. `Blamed if I know how he got clear--must be a wizard.'

The gambler made a gesture of disgust. `Wizard nothin'. O' course somebody happened along an' helped him; an' he's got the Iaugh on yu.'

`He shore has, an' a new rope into the bargain,' agreed the puncher, with a grin which aggravated his companion still further.

`Yu don't appear to be able to get it into yore head that this feller is dangerous--dangerous, I tell yu,' he rapped out.

`My gracious, yu don't say! Fancy me never suspectin that!' was the ironical retort.

`An' yu had another chance, back there in the Folly,' the gambler went on. `He shoots yu up an' turns his back on yu, an' yu got yore gun. 'Stead o' beefin' him, yu stand there like a blasted image.'

`Yu seen that, did yu?' inquired Snub.

`I was told by them that did,' replied Pete. `They said yu was scared cold.'

`They was right,' Snub admitted. `I'm allus willin' to take a chance, but there warn't no chance. If I'd pulled my gun I wouldn't be here a-talkin' to you--not that I'd be missin' much thataway. I knew he'd get me, an' I knew too that he wanted me to draw--he was playin' for it. I ain't near tired o' life yet, an' I ain't no cat neither, with nine of 'em to gamble with.'

`Shucks! I never seen the gun-slinger yet that couldn't be got,' sneered Pete. `But o' course if yo're scared...'

`I am,' said Snub. `But that don't go for everybody. If yu think yu can ride me...'

There was an ugly look on his face, and his right hand was not far from his gun. The man on the opposite side of the fire laughed crossly.

`I ain't tryin' to ride yu, yu fool,' he said. `We gotta work together, and this feller is interferin' an' has gotta be suppressed.'

`Good word that! Might mean anythin',' laughed the puncher. `Well, go to it, Pete. Yu shore have my best wishes. An' if there's any particular spot yu'd like to be buried in, let me know, an' I'll tend to it. Yu near got him once, didn't yu?'

The gambler swore luridly, and his fingers inched to pull the shoulder gun and shoot down the man who jeered at him, but the lifelong habit of control engendered by his profession enabled him to conceal his feelings.

`I was unlucky,' he said quietly. `The game ain't played out yet.'

`Yu better tell Spider--' the puncher began.

`Shut yore fool trap,' fiercely interrupted the other, with an anxious glance round. `Ain't yu got more sense than to say names?'

`Well, who's to hear 'em in this Gawd-forsaken spot?' protested the puncher. `Yu don't reckon the cayuses'll tell, do yu?'