Sudden The Range Robbers

The gambler shrugged his shoulders. `Seems like I gotta work with a passel o' idiots,' he said contemptuously. "Less I do everythin' myself there's nothin' but mistakes. What lunatic wiped Bud out? No, don't tell me--I could see yu was just agoin' to.' He got up and walked to where his horse was tied. `Tell the others whan I told yu, an' for all our sakes, keep that gap in your face closed,' were his final words as he mounted and rode back to the trail. His companion watched him vanish with a savage scowl.

`For less than half o' nothin' I'd just naturally blow yu apart, yu old lizard,' he growled. `Yu come mighty near bein' buzzard meat once or twice.'

Green remained in his hiding-place until Snub had followed the gambler out of the draw, chewing over what he had heard. That the rustling was the work of white men was now beyond doubt, and at least some of the Double X gang were involved in it. He had nearly learned the name of the slayer of Bud, but the gambler had been too quick. The name that had escaped had been Spider. Green recalled Bent's quotation in the bunkhouse when they were joshing him, and Durran's enormous appreciation of what was apparently a not very notable witticism. Here was another little problem to solve.

`Things is boilin' up into a pretty mess,' was the cowpuncher's comment as he mounted and rode out of the draw. Reaching the spot where the trail forked, he turned and headed for the Y Z. An hour's ride brought him within a few miles of his destination, but no nearer to a solution of the tangle he was trying to unravel. Presently, at a point where the road wound up over a rocky ridge, his horse slanted its ears and whickered. Looking up, he saw a saddled pony, the reins looped over the horn, contentedly cropping the grass along the trail side. The animal was a pinto, and he recognised it as one frequently ridden by Noreen. Securing the horse, he uttered a loud call, and a faint cry of `Help!' came in response.

Leading the pinto, he forced his way into the undergrowth in the direction he fancied the cry had come from and shouted again. Once more the reply came, but very feebly, and Green hurried. Soon he emerged on a little plateau covered with grass, from the edge of which the ground dropped almost vertically into a gully. At one spot the plateau was broken off sharply, as though a miniature landslide had occurred. Looking down, he saw the girl, clinging desperately to a stunted shrub about thirty feet below him. A narrow ledge gave her a little support, but it was obvious that she was exhausted and could not maintain her position much longer.`Hang on; I'm a-comin',' he shouted.

She had not the strength to reply, but a movement of the head told him that she had heard. Rapidly he uncoiled his rope, and thanking his stars that he was not riding Blue, who was still an uncertain quantity, fastened one end of it to the saddlehorn. The loop he slipped under his armpits, with a grim smile at the thought that this time he was hanging himself over the cliff. At the first pull on the rope the sturdy little cow-pony stiffened and prepared to take the weight; it knew what was wanted and could be trusted to do its part. Choosing a point not directly over the girl, in order to avoid sending any loose debris he might dislodge down upon her, Green gripped the rope and began the descent. As soon as he was low enough, he clawed his way to the little ledge on which she was partly lying. Standing on this precarious footing, he contrived to stoop and lift the almost senseless girl with his right arm.

`Lock yore hands round my neck an' hold on tight,' he said, brusquely. `The hoss'll pull us up.'

He gave a familiar call and braced himself for the strain. The rope tightened with a jerk, they swung loose from the ledge, and were being gradually raised as the knowing little pony paced slowly back. With his left arm and his legs the puncher did his best to avoid the inequalities and projections of the earth wall up which they were being drawn, but both of them were bruised and breathless when at length they were dragged over the rim of the plateau. The girl, indeed, was still well-nigh unconscious. Flinging off the rope, Green staggered to his feet and fetched his canteen. The waner soon revived her.

`Where am I?' she asked weakly, and then, with a shiver, `Oh, I remember! I sat down and the ground gave way under me. I seemed to fall miles. How did you find me?'

`I met up with yore pony. Plumb lucky yu forgot to trail the reins, or he wouldn't 'a' drifted,' Green replied. `Do yu reckon yu can stand up?'

The girl flushed at the realisation that she was reclining against his knee, and that he had been the first to think of it. `I am all right now,' she said hastily, and stood up. `How did you get me up the cliff?'

`The little hors just naturally hauled the pair of us up; nothin' to that,' the puncher said nonchalantly. `We seem to have collected some real estate on the trip, though.'

He helped her brush the dust from her clothes and brought her pony. His matter-of-fact treatment of the incident and evident desire not to prolong it were in keeping with his invariable attitude towards her, and aroused an indefinite feeling of resentment; it savoured of indifference, and she was not accustomed to that form of treatment from the opposite sex. Any of the other boys... She put the ungrateful thought from her and turned to him impulsively.

`I have to thank you again for coming to my rescue,' she said. `You will begin to look upon me as a nuisance.'

His right spur went home, and the pony promptly resented it by standing on its hind legs. By the time the rider had subdued this ebullition, he had his reply ready.

`Why, I reckon I'm plain lucky, that's all,' he said gravely.

`I should have it that the luck is on my side,' she replied. `But for you I should now be--' She shook her head no banish the ugly picture, and added, `Yes I am going to ask you to do something more.'

`I'll be pleased,' he said simply.

`It is only that I want you to say nothing of this--this accident--to my father. My motive is not entirely selfish, though I am afraid he would stop my rides, and I love them, but he worries about me quite enough as it is, and just now he has much to trouble him.'

`I wasn't intendin'' He stopped suddenly. Confound it, did she think he would go glory-hunting to his employer? This aspect of her request had just occurred to the girl.

`You see, he has only me,' she said lamely.

`Yu won't remember yore mother, I expect,' Green said, deliberately changing the subject.

`No, I might almost say I never had one,' she replied. `I think even the memory of a monher must be much for a girl.'

The puncher nodded his head. `But yu got yore dad,' he resumed. `Parents shore mean a lot, an' I guess a kid that starts life without any is some handicapped.'

Something in his voice told her he was speaking of himself. `It must make a difference,' she agreed. `I'm sorry if you--' `Yes,' he said reminiscently. `All the parents I can remember was an old Piute squaw an' her man, who used to travel the country sellin' hosses. I was raised among Injuns. The old woman told me I was white, but she never explained how I come to be with 'em. They stole me, likely. Then a cattleman they sold some ponies to saw me an' made a dicker with 'em; took me to his ranch and treated me like a son. He was shore a regular man. Yu see, he was all alone too.'

`And he is--dead?'

`Yes. He passed out 'bout three years back, an' I lost my only friend.'

She was silent for a few moments, and he guessed what was in her mind. `Yu are wonderin' why I'm workin' as a cowhand when I oughtta be ownin' a ranch. It's easy explained. When my friend died he was a broken-hearted an' ruined man: his wife had a fatal illness a few years after they married, their onlychild was kidnapped by an enemy before he met up with me, an' another scoundrel robbed him of well-nigh everythin'. All he had to leave me was his debt to these two men, an' I'm meanin' to pay it--when I find 'em; not for anythin' I lost, but for what they made him suffer.'

The girl shivered. The threat to the unknown offenders had been quietly spoken, but she sensed the implacable resolve underlying the words. This grim-faced man meant what he said; he would show the patience and tenaciny of a vengeful Indian on the trail of a foe, and little, if any, more mercy.

`They may be dead by now,' she ventured.

`So much the better--for them,' Green replied; `but I'm bettin' they're still above ground. This is a big country, an' I've only been searchin' three years.'

Silence again fell on them, for the girl was awed by the intensity of a hatred which could keep a man on such a quest for so long a time. Then the puncher spoke again and his tone was apologetic.

`I'm shore sorry, Miss Noreen. I don't know what come over me pesterin' yu with my dreadful past in this fashion. Yu must think I'm loco.'

`No, I've been very interested--and sorry,' the girl protested. `I hope you won't find those men.'

`Yo're condemnin' me to a solitary life,' returned he, with a smile, and again she realised the granite hardness beneath the smooth voice. `We are near the ranch now; yu had better go ahead.'

She put out her hand, thanked him again, and rode on. Neither of them noticed a dark face, with sneering, vengeful eyes, watching them from a near-by thicket. Green waited a while and then rode slowly to the ranch.

When Simon came in shortly after his daughter's return she saw at once that something was wrong. The old man's face wore a look of annoyance, and his voice was almost harsh when he said :

`Hear yu been ridin' with Green.'

`Who told you that?' asked the girl.

`That ain't nothin' to do with it,' replied her father. `I'm askin' yu.'

`I went out for a ride, and on my way home I met Green, and he accompanied me part of the way,' said Noreen. `Do you object to me speaking to our boys if I meet them?'

`No o' course not; yo're getnin' me all wrong,' said Simon uncomfortably. `But this feller is new, an', as Blaynes sez to me just now, he ain't told us nothin' about himeslf.'

`So in was Blaynes who gave you this interesting information, was it?' she asked indignantly.

`Now don't yu go sourin' on him. He's foreman, an' it's his duty to report to me anythin' he thinks I oughta know.'

`He's not foreman over me, and I won't have him spying on my actions, the miserable sneak!' retorted the girl spiritedly. `Green at least behaves like a gentleman, and as for knowing nothing about him, he told me quite a lot.'

She proceeded to repeat what she knew of the new man's past, and was astonished to see her father's face darken and to hear a muttered oath.

`Why, Daddy, what's the matter?' she asked.

He dropped into a chair before replying. `Twinge o' rheumatism--gets me every now an' then. Reckon I'm growin' old, girl. Now about this chap, Green. Dessay he's all right, an' there's no harm in passin' the time o' day if yu meet, but I don't want yu to be too familiar with any o' the boys, see? Sooner or later yu will own this ranch an' have to boss 'em.'

`I do that now,' she retorted saucily.

`Well, I guess yu do, an' the old man as well,' he agreed. `Sorry if I seemed riled, girlie, but things is worryin' just now. Yu won't hold it agin me, will yu?'

Noreen kissed him tenderly. `Of course I won't, you dear old silly,' she said, and in her mind she added, `But that doesn't apply to your case, Mr. Rattler Blaynes.'

Chapter VIII

Old Nugget was receiving company. Seated round the rude table in his shack were half a dozen men, in addition to himself, smoking, drinking, and conversing in lowered voices. Poker Pete, his small porcine eyes covertly watching everyone, dominated the talk. He and Dexter, from the Double X, appeared to have some authority over the rest.

`We gotta ease up on yore ranch, Rattler, till this damned feller Green is put out o' business,' Pete stated. `We can't afford to take no more risks. Better give the Frying Pan a whirl; they got some good stock there.'

`They shore has--I was lookin' some of it over the other day,' laughed Dexter, and then, as he caught a sharp look from the gambler, he added, `No, they didn't see me--don't yu worry, old-timer.'

`We can fetch 'em across the "Wise-head" range--streuth! Old Simon struck a bum brand when he hit on that--an' through the Parlour as usual,' remarked a tall abnormally thin puncher, who was known at the Double X as `Post' Adams. `Leeming will think Simon's bin helpin' hisself,' said one of the others.

There was a general laugh at this, and in the midst of it the door opened and another man stepped in. It was Snap Lunt. "Lo Snap. Find yoreself a seat,' greeted Pete.

`I ain't stayin' long,' replied the gunman, and for a moment there was a tense silence; all present realised that this latest arrival had not come in friendship. `I'm here just to serve notice that I'm through with this game,' Snap finished.

Standing there, his hands hanging down, he watched the effect of his announcement. He knew perfectly well that his life hung on a thread, and that only his known reputation kept him from being instantly shot to pieces. Also, he had planned well in coming late, for with his back to the half-open door he had a line of retreat, and all of the others were in front of him.

`Bit of a tardy repentance, Snap, ain't it?' Poker Pete said coldly.

`Mebbe,' said the other. `I ain't claimin' to be any better'n the rest, but when it comes to knifin' fellers in my own outfit, or hangin' 'em alive over the rocks for buzzards to feed on, I'm done.'

`Aw, Bud was an accident, an' that other play warn't nothin' but a joke, Snap,' Dexner protested, though there was a grin on his face as he spoke.

The little gunman's lips stiffened into a sneer. `Keep that hogwash for them as is likely to swaller it, Dex,' he said. `Understand, I'm through. Any o' yu got notions?'

It was a direct challenge, and the maker awaited the outcome with narrowed eyes and ready fingers, while the men he faced reckoned up the chances. They could kill him, beyond doubt, but they knew it could not be done before the claw-like hands hovering over the gun-butts got to work. Some of them would never see another sunrise. For a moment Death hesitated over the spot--and passed on. The gambler shook his head slightly, as though answering his own thought, and then said :

`We're shore sorry to lose yu, Snap, but she's a free country. I take it yu won't snitch?'

`Yu take it correct, an' I'm plumb glad yu put it the way yu did,' retorted Snap meaningly. `That's one o' the things I never done, an' I ain't aimin' to start now. What I know I'll keep under my hat.'

`An' I s'pose we'll have to reckon yu against us?' put in Blaynes.

`I'm doin' my duty to the man that pays me; take that how yu like,' came the answer.

'Ain't got religion, have yu, Snap?' sneered Post Adams. `Shore, an' here are my prayer-books. Yu want to be converted?'

His fingers swept the walnut handles protruding from the low-hung holsters, his body crouched as though about to spring, and his face was a mask of ferocity as he glared at the last speaker. It was Pete who averted the catastrophe. He had seen many shootings, and he knew that one type of killer always works himself into a fury before getting his man, with the object, perhaps, of justifying the deed to himself.

`We don't want no gun-play here,' he said, `an' I'll drill the first man that pulls. Yu shut yore face, Post. It's a free country, like I said afore, an' if Snap don't want to sit in the game no longer, he's got a right to throw his hand in. Anythin' more to say, Lunt? 'Cause we got business to talk over what won't interest yu now.'

`On'y this,' Snap said. `If there's a feller here who wants to argue with me at any time 'bout what I choose to do, he knows where to find me.'

His narrowed eyes watched Adams as he spoke, and there was no doubt as to whom the invitation was meant for, but the Double X puncher made no reply; he had courage, but the little gunman was a chilly proposition. Snap waited for a few moments and then, with a sneering laugh, backed slowly to the door, slid through and closed it behind him. Not until they heard the splashing of his horse fording the creek did anyone speak, and then Dexter said :

`We lose a useful man. Is it safe to trust him?'

`I'm sayin' it ain't--he'll snitch as shore as hell,' Adams put in. `Yu oughtta let us get him, Pete.'

`Think so, do yu?' sneered the gambler. `If I'd been fool enough to do that we'd have lost three or four useful men. Snap's quicker than any of us, an' he came loaded for trouble. O' course, if yu reckon he ain't to be relied on, there's time aplenty to make it safe. He's headed for the Y Z, an' I don't suppose he'll hurry. The side trail'd put yu ahead o' him an' he'll be in plain sight where the trail skirts The Gut. Me, I ain't worryin'. I dunno why he's throwed us down, but I think he's square.'

Thus he cunningly dissociated himself from the murder of the renegade, while giving it his sanction and even egging the others on to the deed. As he had expected, Post Adams got up at once; the gunman's challenge, which he had not dared to take up, rankled deeply.

`Better be shore than sorry, I guess,' he said. `Who's a-comin'?'

`I'm with yu, Post. Never did like that little runt anyway,'said another of the Double X men, a heavy, stolid fellow of Teutonic extraction, who answered to the name of `Dutch.' `Any more?' asked Post, looking round.

`Ain't two o' you enough to bush-whack one man?' gibed Rattler. `What yu skeered of?'

`Not o' yu, anyway,' snapped Adams, as he stamped out of the room, followed by Dutch.

The flat report of a rifle-shot, followed in a moment by a second and then a third, made Green pull in his horse, and then force the animal down the slope of the ridge along which he had been riding; a man on the skyline makes too good a target. Again the three shots rang out, the second instantly followed by the third.

`Two to one,' decided the puncher. `Mr. First Man fires, an' when Mr. Single replies, Mr. Second pumps one into his smoke. I reckon it may be worth lookin' into.'

Dismounting and tying his horse, he took his rifle from the saddle and stole cautiously down a steepish declivity in the direction he believed the man he called Mr. Single to be. Soon he came upon a horse tied in a ounch of cottonwoods, and bearing the Y Z brand. A little further on, stretched full length behind a small boulder and cuddling the stock of his Winchester repeater, was a man he instantly recognised as Snap Lunt. He had no hat, and was cursing painstakingly.

"Lo, Snap. What's the trouble?' Green asked.

Like a flash the head of the prostrate man came round, and his left hand went to his hip, only to fall away again when he saw who the newcomer was. He grinned.

`Two jaspers over there cut down on me as I came along the trail,' he explained. `One of 'em lifted my hat, an' if I'd bin four inches taller'n I am, I'd be choosin' my harp right now.' `Know 'em?' asked Green.

`I ain't dead shore, but I got notions,' replied the gunman. `There's another chunk o' rock over there, an' if yo're goin' to stay yu'd better freeze to it, though there ain't no call for yu to take a hand.'

`I'm aimin' to,' Green returned, sliding down behind the cover indicated. `Two to one ain't fair, an' I always did hate a bush-whacker anyways.'

`Good for yu,' assented Snap. `We'll give them coyotes a little surprise. They're shootin' at my smoke; when the second feller fires, give him hell.'

They were lying on the slope of a saucer-like depression, and about twenty yards lower down lay the trail to the ranch. Beyond this was a level stretch of open grass from four to five

hundred yards in width. On the far side the ground rose again, and was covered with rock debris and brush. It was an ideal spot for an ambush-party, for if they missed their aim they could not be approached without deadly peril, and they could withdraw at any time unobserved.

Presently a puff of smoke bellied out from a clump of brush opposite Green, and Snap fired. Instantly another shot came from ten yards to the right, and a bullet splintered the rock in front of the gunman. Green sent two shots in quick succession to the address of the second marksman, and through the clear air came a stifled curse.

`Did he get yu?' asked a high pitched voice.

`Burned my ear, blast him!' came the reply. `How'd he get over there? Must be a blamed grasshopper.'

`That sounds like Dutch, an' the other feller is Post Adams. I'd know that squeak of his anywheres,' commented Snap. `Watch out--I'm agoin' to loose off.'

Two shots came in rapid response, and Green promptly drove a bullet into the smoke of the left-hand sniper, drawing forth further curses, and an anxious query from the other man. `Yu ain't let him get yu again, have yu?'

`Him?' snorted the wounded man. `Him? There's two of him --them shots come from twenty yards apart. Come over an' tie up my arm, an' don't talk like a damned idjut.'

"Pears like I'm makin' Mr. Dutch uncomfortable,' Green grinned. `He's a complainin' feller, ain't he?'

`He'll be quiet enough if I get a fair squint at him,' was the grim reply. 'Betcha they fade.'

Fifteen minutes passed, and nothing happened. Then Snap fired, out no shot came in return. They waited awhile, lying motionless in their places, and then Snap shot again.

`They've flitted,' he said, and stood up, his rifle ready, and his eyes watching for a movement across nhe valley. But he saw nothing and, satisfied that the enemy had retreated, he walked coolly down to the trail below and retrieved his hat, in the crown of which were a couple of bullet-holes.

`Plenty ventilation in that lid now,' he remarked, as he donned the damaged article. `But that's all to the good for a hotheaded guy like me.' He achieved the nearest thing he could to a smile and turned to his companion. `I'm thankin' yu,' he said quietly.

`Shucks! No need for that, Snap,' returned Green. `What have them fellers got against yu?'

The gunman shook his head. `I ain't sayin' a word but this : yu can count on me to the limit,' he said, and held out his hand. Green realised that he had made a useful friend.

`Thank yu,' he said simply.

They mounted and rode back to the ranch in silence. From time to time Green looked at the little man beside him. What a lot he could clear up if he would only speak. But the puncher knew that he would not speak--even after the cowardly attempt on his life--and respected him for his loyalty to his late confederates. For, of course, Green surmised that Snap had been one of the gang operating against the ranch, and that he had, for some reason, quarrelled with the others and quitted.

Supper was in progress when they reached the bunkhouse, and Green, entering behind his companion, watched the foreman's face, and saw first the slight start of surprise, and then the contemptuous smile. Snap evidently also observed them.

`Things is shore livenin' up in this neck o' the woods,' he remarked casually to the room in general as he took his seat. `A pair o' them Double X fellers tried to bush-whack me in The Gut this afternoon.'

`Yu don't say! Who was they?' asked Simple.

`Post Adams an' Dutch,' replied Lunt.

`How'd yu know? Did yu see 'em?' queried Rattler.

`Heard 'em,' said Lunt laconically. `Ventilated Dutch some, I reckon. One of 'em spoilt my lid, damn him!'

`Good for yu,' commented Dirty. `What they pickin' on yu for, Snap?'

The gunman looked the foreman full in the face. `Orders, I reckon,' he said coolly. `They ain't neither of 'em got guts enough to put up a play like that on their own.'

`The Double X is gettin' too brash,' growled Dirty. `A lesson is about due.'

`None o' that talk here, Dirty,' cut in the foreman. `We got enough on our hands without a range war. Snap can fight his own battles.'

`Shore, an' he can have my help any time he wants it against ambushin' coyotes,' retorted the belligerent one.

The meal over, Green drifted out to the corral, climbed the rail and sat there smoking. There was no moon, but the sky was like a dome of velvet strewn with diamonds. A light wind was blowing from the mountains, bringing a tang of the pine forests. From the bunkhouse came the murmur of voices, soft and blurred, broken by an occasional laugh. Behind him the horses moved slowly as they cropped the grass. It all seemed peaceful, and yet, in the midst of it, robbery and murder were being planned and carried out. He looked towards the lighted windows of the ranch, and found himself wondering what Noreen was doing. He did not see a shadow slide along the corral fence.

`Stick 'em up,' growled a voice, and as he instinctively complied he looked into the barrel of a six-shooter, behind which was the laughing face of Larry. `Say, yo-re easy, ain't yu?' added that satisfied young man.

`Shore,' replied Green, slipping his left heel from the corral bar over which it was hooked. Like a striking snake, his toe shot out and kicked the loosely-held weapon into the air. Then, with a flying leap, Green landed full on the other and they went to the ground together, Larry underneath.

`Shore,' Green repeated. `I'm easy--roused,' and proceeded to enthusiastically push his friend's face into the soft dust. `Let up, yu--yu catamount,' spluttered a choking voice. `I've said "Uncle"--said it four times. Yu aimin' to bust my back, as well as my fingers?'

Thus adjured, Green allowed him to rise, and having brushed the dust from his own person, performed nhe same kindly office for his friend with an energy which elicited another protest.

`Aw right, don't yu trouble, feller,' Larry said. `I ain't no carpet. What yu usin'--a fence-rail?'

`Only my hand,' came the reply.

`Only yore hand,' snorted Larry. `Try the rail next time--I'd ruther.' He found his gun, rolled and lighted a cigarette, and took up a position on the corral fence. `For a busted nickel I wouldn't tell yu any news,' he announced.

Green climbed up beside him. `Spill it,' he urged, `or Uncle will have to argue with yu some more.'

Larry moved a little further away. `I've solved the mystery o' the rustlin',' he began solemnly. `The leaves is doin' it--every time the wind blows.' He dodged a back-handed blow which would have sent him into the corral, and added, `An' yu've been ridin' with the Pretty Lady. I'm agoin' to call yu "Don" in future--short for Don Juan, see?'

`Quit yore foolin'; it's blame near time yu grew up,' retorted the other. `I don't care a cuss what yu call me, but I'd like to hear how yu knew about'--he hesitated--`the Pretty Lady.'

`Rattler told me, an' all the others. He's shore doin' his damnedest to make yu popular.'

Green was silent--thinking. He felt that he could fully trust this boy for whom he had conceived a liking at their first meeting. They had become friends since then, and under their bickering and banter was a sincere affection--though neither of them would have called it that. He soon made his decision.

`I got somethin' to tell yu,' he said.

`Speak on, Big Chief Cat o' the Mountains; I'm all ears,' Larry responded.

`Damned if yu ain't too, pretty near,' grinned Green. `Well, never yu mind; slant them long listeners o' yores this way, an' don't interrupt.'

In a low voice he proceeded to relate the humiliation of Snub, which was as yet news at the ranch!

Blaynes had heard of it from the gambler, but for once had exercised discretion about the stranger, and kept the knowledge to himself, and none of the Y Z outfit had visited the town save Snap, who did not chatter. Larry punctuated the recital with profane expressions of delight. When Green went on to recite the rescue of Noreen, the boy fell silent. The story ended--and told, as it was, in the baldest way, it did not take long--he said softly: `Yu shore have the luck. I'm speakin' for the job of foreman, early an' prompt.'

`What fool idea yu got in yore head now?' asked his friend. `Well,' replied Larry, `Ain't that the way it allus goes in the story-books? The han'some hero dashes out o' the blazin' ruins, bearin' the slender form o' the heroine, with the tears streamin' down her beautiful face, an--'

`The tears'll be streamin' down yore by no means beautiful face an' yu'll be in good shape to figure as a blazin' ruin yoreself if yu don't stop talkin' drivel,' interrupted Green. `What do yu make o' Snap bein' stood up thataway?' He went on to tell of his own share in the affair.

`Shore is an odd number,' Larry reflected. `Wonder what they split on? Pity he won't talk; but he's square, Snap is; I allus sort o' liked him.'

`There's somethin' or somebody big behind it all,' Green said musingly. `It ain't just a common steal of a few cattle. Trouble is, we ain't got an atom o' proof. Well, it's no good a-worryin'.'

`Not a bit,' responded Larry, and added the entirely irrelevant remark, `Say, Don, I hope yu get her.'

`I hope yu get sense, yu chump,' drawled Green. `Do yu s'pose a girl like that would look twice at me? 'Sides, I ain't got no time for women. When this little tangle is straightened out, I gotta job that looks like keepin' me busy for a long time.'

`If it's one that two can tackle, deal me a hand,' Larry said quickly.

`Thank yu,' said his friend, and meant it.

`Shucks!' came the ready reply. `I can keep my eye on that foreman's job thataway. S'long. It's me for the hay.'

He slid into the gloom, leaving the older man still perched on the rail of the corral. Though he had not known it, the boy's light words had left a sting behind them. The cowpuncher's eyes turned involuntarily to the still-lighted windows of the ranch-house. Was it possible that a girl like that could ever come to care for such a man as he? The idea seemed absurd, and yet he dallied with it. The feel of her arms round his neck, though it had been necessary, and he knew she had hardly been conscious of what she was doing, remained an ever-present memory. The picture of a settled home, with a wife, and perhaps kiddies, was a powerful temptation to one who had spent years of his life as a wanderer, and alone. But he thrust it aside with an almost savage laugh at his own folly.

`I'm gettin' soft,' he muttered. `An' there ain't no moon neither.'

But he looked again at the ranch-house before he turned to seek his pillow.

Chapter IX

THE Frying Pan ranch lay to the west of the Y Z, the two ranges being separated by a narrow strip of broken country difficult to cross. But there were one or two gaps in the barrier in the shape of level stretches, one of them not far from the cabin where Bud had been done to death. For years the desirability of fencing these openings had been admitted by both owners, but nothing had been done, though the line-riders cursed the omission almost daily.

The Frying Pan outfit had been busy for a week or more rounding up a herd to be trail-driven east to the nearest railway point of shipment. The result of their efforts, some five hundred head of cattle, was now gathered on an expanse of good grass only a few miles from the ranch-house, awaiting the final selection. It was a still, dark night, only a few stars were visible, and the animals were settling down contentedly. A lone rider, moving spectral-like on the outskirts of the herd, was intoning monotonously an utterly unprintable ballad. Suddenly came the howl of a coyote, and the rider pulled up and peered into the darkness. The sound seemed to come from ahead of him; a moment later came an answering cry which appeared to emanate from behind him.

`Funny,' he muttered. `Must be a couple of 'em : even a coyote couldn't cover the ground in time. Them sweet accents didn't sound just alike neither. Gimme half a chance, yu prowlin' thieves, an' I'll hang yore grey hides on the fence.'

He loosened his pistol in the holster and rode slowly on. Presently the blurred, indistinct mass of another horseman loomed up in the darkness, and the cowboy's right hand instinctively went to his gun.

`That yu, Lucky?' he asked, and when no answer came, he added, `What's eatin' yu? Ain't afraid yu'll catch cold in yore insides if yu open that hole in yore face, are yu?'

A low chuckle came in response and the blur waved an arm. A faint swish followed, and ere the cowboy could dodge the danger a loop dropped over his shoulders and he was yanked suddenly from his saddle. Even in the act of falling, however, he snatched out his gun and fired two rapid shots into the air. A second later a crashing blow from a pistol-barrel laid him senseless. Other riders instantly appeared out of the gloom.

'Grit a move on,' said one of them. `Cut out as many as we can handle an' start the rest in the other direction. We gotta hustle; we shall have the whole darn crowd here soon, now this blamed fool has given the signal,' and he kicked the unconscious boy viciously in the ribs.

With the expertness of men who knew their job the raiders got to work. A portion of the now uneasy herd was separated from the main bunch and driven in a north-easterly direction. It does not take much to turn a herd of contented cattle into a torrent of mad, unreasoning fear, a fact the rustlers were fully aware of. No sooner were the stolen beasts sufficiently far away than two of the riders returned, and with shouts and flapping saddle-blankets soon stampeded the already scared herd, sending it thundering olindly to the shout. They had barely accomplished this when madly pounding hoofs brought another horseman on the scene.

`Charlie, where in 'ell are yu?' he called. `I heard yore signal. What's up?'

Then he suddenly grasped that something was wrong, and with an oath, he jerked out his gun and fired. The spit of flame stabbed the darkness, and one of the raiders cursed. His companion, dropping his blanket, appeared to lift something from his saddle and raise his arm. Then came a peculiar twang, and the cowboy gasped and almost fell from his horse. But the instinct of a man who spends nearly all his waking hours in the saddle came to his aid, and gripping with weakening knees, he whirled the pony and headed for the ranch.

`He won't never make it,' said one of the raiders. `Did he git yu?'

'Creased my shoulder, blast him ! An' it's bleedin' like blazers, but it can wait; we gotta punch the breeze. C'mon.'

Spurring their mounts in the direction taken by the rest of the band, they vanished in the night.

Meanwhile the gallant little cow-pony, with its almost senseless burden, made unswervingly for home, and as though it understood the need for haste, never slackened speed until it slid to a stop in front of the bunkhouse door. One of those within, hearing the patter of hoof-beats, came out to see who was arriving. His shout brought the others. The senseless form, drooping over the saddlehorn, was lifted down, carried into the bunkhouse and laid on a bench. One of the men raced to fetch the boss.

`Why, it's Lucky, an' he's got an arrow through his shoulder,' cried one. `What in 'ell's doin'?'

Leeming, the owner of the Frying Pan, hurried in. Who is it, an' what's the trouble?' he asked.

`It's Lomas, an' it shore looks as if there's trouble a-plenty,' replied Dirk Iddon, his foreman, who was bending over the wounded man.

Cutting away the shirt and vest, he laid bare the wound, and disclosed the arrow buried to the feathered end in the white flesh, with the vicious barbed point protruding from the back.

`That's a 'Pache war-shaft,' he commented.

With deft tenderness, he snapped the shaft just below the feathers and turning the hurt man on his side, gripped the head of the arrow and drew it gently from the wound, which was then sponged and bandaged with care and thoroughness which would not have discredited a professional healer. Dirk had doctored many hurts, and some community lost a good physician when he ran wild and drifted to the West.

`He's shore livin' up to his name, Lucky is,' remarked he, regarding his handiwork with satisfaction. `Couple o' inches lower down an' it would've been through the lung. As it is, he'll be as good as new in two-three weeks. How the 'ell he stayed on that hoss beats me.'

The sick man's eyes fluttered and opened; he made an effort to sit up, only to sink back wearily. Dirk handed him a tot of whisky, holding it to his lips.

`Tell us what happened, Lucky, if yu can,' he said.

The strong, raw spirin, and the sound of the familiar voice of his foreman brought the cowboy back to consciousness, and gave him strength to speak.

`Injuns,' he said. `Stampeded the herd. They musta got old Charlie. I heard shootin' an' bumped right into 'em; think I nicked one.'

He sank back exhausted, oblivious to the tumult his information had aroused. Every man was furious, but the anger of Job Leeming exceeded them all. A shortish, choleric man, his violent outbursts of temper had made `the impatience of Job' a byword in the district. For the rest he was a square dealer and a good employer. At the moment he was almost beside himself.

`Jump to it, boys,' he cried. `Hosses an' guns for all o' yu. Cook--where's than blasted cook? Oh, here yu are. Why in 'ell don't yu come when I call yu? Rustle some grub, pronto, an' then look after Lomas. We'll get these murderin' dogs if we have to foller 'em to the Pit.'

`Shore we'll get 'em,' said Dirk. `We'll bring enough scalps to make Lucky a ha'r bridle.'

In less than fifteen minutes a dozen men were racing for the spot where the herd had been. They soon reached it, and scattered to search for the missing cowboy. It was Dirk who happened upon the huddled, prostrate form; at his call, Leeming and the others came scampering up. The foreman knelt and examined the injured man, his fingers encountering a sticky smear of blood across the forehead.

`Show a light, somebody,' he said.

The flame of several manches revealed the extent of the damage.

`Roped him an' knocked him cold with a gun,' stated Dirk. `He ain't hurt bad--his head must be made o' granite, I reckon. I'll do what I can.'

Under his ministrations the patient came to, and in a faltering voice confirmed the foreman's theory of what had taken place. `I thought the blamed sky had dropped on me,' he said. `I shore saw all the stars there is.'

Held in the saddle by another of the outfit, he was also despatched to the care of Cookie at the ranch-house, and having attended to the wants of his wounded, Leeming now felt that he was at liberty to take up his own affairs. Here a difficulty presented itself. Even in the faint light of the early dawn it was possible to see what had happened, and Dirk, who had been carefully scanning the tracks, summed up the situation.

`They've gone nor-east with a bunch o' cattle, headin' for Big Chief, an' they stampeded the rest o' the herd in the opposite direction. Chances is, they've left four times as many as they lifted. What yu aim to do about it?'

`We'll have to split,' Leeming said. `Yu take five o' the boys an' follow the 'Paches; the rest of us will round up the herd. I'd come with yu, but we can't both leave the ranch, an' yo're too darned good at readin' sign to leave behind. How many do yu figure they got?'

`Tidy bunch--near a hundred, I guess,' Dirk replied. `Means one thing--they'll travel all the slower with that lot; we oughtta come up with 'em, spite o' the start they got.'

`Shoot every one o' the durn copper-coloured thieves when yu do,' snorted the other, adding a string of lurid oaths as he turned away to commence the wearisome task of collecting the scattered herd. To describe him as an angry man would be putting it very mildly indeed. At least a week's work destroyed in a single night, and all to be done again, to say nothing of the probable loss of about five-score valuable beasts; for though he would not admit it even to himself, Job had little hope that his steers would be recovered. He knew but too well the wildness of the country, and the many hiding-places it afforded a cunning predator.

That this raid, like the one on his neighbour, was the work of Indians, he did not doubt for an instant, and with the white man's instinctive hatred for the redskin, his resentment was the greater.

Late on the afternoon of the following day the foreman of the Y Z strode into the bunkhouse with a look of malicious triumph on his face.

`Green, the Old Man wants to see yu, pronto,' he said. `The Injuns have got away with a big steal o' Frying Pan cows, an' "Old Impatience" is up there a-raisin' Cain.'

If he expected the cowpuncher to ask for any details he was disappointed; Green simply nodded and went out. At the ranch-house he found Simon and Leeming in the big living-room, the latter pacing up and down, and evidently in a state of eruption. Simon plunged at once into the business.

`Green,' he said. `Meet Mr. Leeming, owner of the Frying Pan. Yu heard he's been raided?'

`Blaynes just said somethin' about it; I ain't got no particulars,' replied the puncher, acknowledging the introduction by a nod at the visitor.

`Night before last it happened. Laid out two o' my outfit, an' got away with about a hundred head,' snapped Leeming. `What yu gotta say about it?'

`Tough luck,' said Green, quietly.

`Tough luck?' vociferated Leeming angrily. `Tough luck? That's a helluva note, ain't it? An' yo're the feller that's agoin' to stop the rustlin', huh? Why, it's been worse'n ever since yu took a hand. Seems to me yu ain't no more use than a busted leg.'-

The cowpuncher's face flushed through the tan, his jaws clenched, and his eyes narrowed as he listened to this tirade. Leeming, still stamping up and down the room, had completely lost control of himself, but the object of his abuse was outwardly calm.

`Yu payin' any o' my wages?' he asked.

Like a shot from a gun the simple question, which put him utterly in the wrong, knocked the irate cattleman off his balance. But he was in too vile a temper to recognise this. `What's that gotta do with it?' he stormed.

`Everythin',' replied the puncher coolly. `There's only one man who has the right to bawl me out if I don't do my work an' that's the man who pays me.'

The words were spoken evenly and without a trace of passion, but there was a deadly meaning in the low voice. Leeming stopped his perambulations and looked at him.

`Well, I'm damned if yu ain't got yore nerve,' he said. `For two bits I'd...'

Green slipped his hand into his pocket, produced the coins named and laid them on the table without a word. No challenge could have been more plainly given. Leeming's face became suffused with blood, but before he could speak, Old Simon interposed :

`That's enough,' he said brusquely. `Job, yu gotta remember that yu are in my house, an' speakin' no one o' my outfit, an' I won't stand for it nor ask him to. If yu don't ride that temper o' yores it's goin' to thow yu bad one o' these days.'

For a moment the angry man looked madder than ever and then all at once his face changed and he laughed aloud. `Sorry, Simon,' he said. `Yo're right. I'm a plain damn fool to go off the handle like this. No offence meant to either o' yu. It's my beast of a temper--can't help it--always had it--my old folks used to say that I cussed my nurse before I had any teeth. The Frying Pan boys understand--they just let me shoot off my mouth, an' laugh behind my back, damn rascals.' He looked at Green. `No hard feelin's, I hope?'

`None here,' replied the puncher, with a smile.

And indeed, the change about was so sudden and complete that it could not be otherwise than amusing. Yet one could sense that it was not in any way due to cowardice; Leeming had plenty of pluck and would have pulled his gun and shot it out with the cowboy just as cheerfully as he apologised, and Green understood this, and respected the owner of the Frying Pan the more for it.

`Well, that's all right,' said Simon, obviously relieved at the way things had come out. `Tell him about it, Job.'

Leeming told the story of the raid and Green listened in silence until he had finished. Then came a question.

`Yu say they headed north-east for Big Chief? Then they must 'a crossed the Y Z near the line-house.' He turned to Simon. `Do yu happen to know which of our boys were there night before last?'

`I asked Blaynes the same thing, an' he said Durran an' Nigger--two experienced men,' he explained to Leeming. `I've met 'em,' said Job in a non-committal tone.

`An' yore foreman lost the trail on Sandy Parlour?' pursued the cowpuncher.

`Yes, an' he's a good trailer too, but a desert an' Injuns is a strong combination.'

`Yu can cut out the redskins--they ain't nothin' to do with yore losin' cattle.'

`But my boys saw 'em, an' that arrow through Lucky's shoulder ain't no dream,' protested the cattleman.

'Green reckons it's whites pretendin' to be Injuns to razzle-dazzle us,' explained Simon. `It shore would be an easy play to make.'

`I ain't reckonin', I know it's so,' the puncher said, `but I'm not advertisin' it.'

`Shore,' agreed Leeming. `Anythin' else yu can tell us?'

The other shook his head. `Can't prove nothin',' he said. `Soon as I've got the goods I'll put my cards on the table. All I'm shore of at present is that it ain't just a small gang liftin' a few cows now an' then; they are organised, and there's a big man somewhere pullin' the strings.'

`What makes yu think that?' asked Simon.

`Just one or two things I happened to overhear,' was the reply. `Yu shore o' yore outfit?'

The question was addressed to the owner of the Frying Pan, and he was quick to answer it. `I'll go bail for every one,' he said confidently. `Are yu suggestin'?'

`I'm only askin',' replied Green. `I don't know any of 'em, an' even in the best o' ropes there may be a weak strand. What's yore opinion o' Dexter, of the Double X?'

`Don't like him--dunno why, but I don't,' was the blunt reply. `Yu got anythin' on him?'

`No,' Green had to confess, `but it was some of his men hung me over the cliff--yu heard o' that--joke, I reckon?'

`Shore, an' o' the one yu played on Snub in return,' laughed Leeming. `Silas told me he never saw a man imitate a chunk o' rock as well as Snub did while yu was shavin' his upper lip for him.'

`He did stand awful still, for a fact,' responded the puncher, a twinkle of devilment in his eyes at the memory. `Two more o' that outfit bush-whacked Lunt.'

This was news to the Frying Pan owner. `The hell they did?' he said. `They musta felt pretty shore o' gettin' him; Snap's hands are jest about a shade quicker'n my temper, an' I can't say more than that. What are they after him for?'

`I dunno, but it looks like some of us ain't wanted around here,' Green replied. `Me, I'm aimin' to stay, just the same.' When he had gone, Simon turned to his visitor and said, `How does he strike yu?'

`Well, I'd sooner have him with than against me,' was Job's verdict. `Know anythin' about him?'

`Not a darn thing,' said Simon. `Barton fetched him along after he'd beat up Poker Pete most to death. Said he was huntin' a job. He certainly is wise to his work, but I can't place him. Blaynes thinks he might be in with the rustlers.'

`Which just means that yore foreman don't like him,' said Leeming shrewdly.

`And who is it that our respected foreman does not approve of?' asked a fresh young voice.

`Hello, Miss Norry,' cried Job heartily, turning round to shake hands with the girl. She had just come in from a ride, and her flushed cheeks, dancing eyes, and trim figure were good to look upon. `Hang me if yu don't get prettier every time 1 see yu. When are yu comin' to take charge at the Frying Pan, eh?'

It was an old joke between them. Leeming, a confirmed bachelor, always protested that he was so solely on account of Noreen.

`Not until I'm no longer wanted at the Y Z,' she laughed and added saucily, `I should be afraid of your dreadful temper.' `I've lost it, Norry,' Leeming said.

`What, again?' retorted the girl merrily, and then, `But you haven't answered my question.'

`We were talkin' o' the new hand, Green,' Job explained. `What's yore opinion of him?'

`Since he came to my help when I was in danger, I am naturally prejudiced,' the girl replied soberly. `I think he's a good man. And now, if you two have done talking secrets, I expect supper is about ready. As Cookie says down at the bunkhouse, "Come an' git it."'

Chapter X

VISITORS to Hatchett's Folly were rare and therefore mostly welcome; visitors with plenty of money to spend were rarer still and correspondingly more welcome. So that when Mr. Joe Tarman and his friend and companion, Mr. Seth Laban, rode in, they had no cause to complain of their reception. The first-named, in fact, would have been well received anywhere, for he bore every appearance of prosperity, and he radiated with generosity, thus capturing every loafer in the town at a blow.

He was a big fellow, standing over six feet, with a broad, well-muscled frame denoting strength above the average even for men of his height, and he was still on the right side of forty. His hair, eyebrows, and carefully-trimmed beard were deep black and gave him a striking appearance. A captious critic might have suggested that the face was too fleshy and the rather small eyes too close together, but ninety-nine women out of every hundred would have voted Joe Tarman a very handsome man.

In this he differed entirely from his companion; Seth Laban could have no such pretensions. He was a slight man of between forty and fifty, with a pronounced stoop which made him appear shorter than he really was. He had a long nose, receding forehead and chin, and small eyes, a combination which produced a rodent-like impression. Believers in the Buddhist theory of the transmigration of souls have said that his previous existence must have been that of a rat, while others, of a less charitable nature, might have held that he was still a rat, and would not have been too wide of the mark at that.

This curiously assorted couple, having installed themselves at the hotel, at once gravitated to the Folly, followed by a number of the inhabitants..Tarman, having introduced himself and his companion no the bartender, at once struck the right note by ordering drinks for nhe crowd. He made no secret of his object in coming to Hatchett's.

`Stayin' long?' asked Silas.

`All depends,' said the big man. `I'm just havin' a look around. Heard this was good cattle country, an' came along. Cows is where T live; I've handled a few in my time, eh, Seth?'

`I reckon,' replied Laban, following the words with the disruption of his features which did duty with him as a smile. `It's good cattle-land all right, but pretty well covered,' returned Silas. `I ain't heard as any o' the owners want to sell.' `They'd better sell while the sellin's good; they won't have nothin' left soon,' sniggered one of the crowd.

`How comes that?' asked the visitor.

`Rustlers,' was the laconic answer.

Tarman laughed. `I've handled a lot o' rustlers in my time too, eh, Seth?'

`I reckon,' came the reply, with the same parody of smile.

`I've got a shore cure for rustlin',' the big man went on. `Yes, gents, a shore cure--never known it to fail; a rope an' a branch --that's a combination that'll bean Mr Rustler every time.'

`Yu gotta catch 'em first,' said the man who had spoken before. `Injuns is tricky, an' so is the blame country round here.' `I got no use for Injuns, not noways,' chimed in another. `Well, I wouldn't go so far as that,' smiled Tarman. `There's been times when I've found 'em useful, eh, Seth?'

`I reckon,' came the inevitable reply.

The discussion became general but Tarman now took little part in it; he was looking through the open door of the saloon, intent on something taking place on the far side of the dusty street. He saw a girl sitting her pony easily, cowboy fashion, that is, almost standing in the stirrups. In her neat shirt-waist, divided skirt, trim high boots, and soft sombrero looped up at one side she was, in Western idiom, `easy to look at.' She was talking to a tall cowboy who stood beside her, hat in hand, with the reins of his mount--a magnificent roan--looped over his arm. Already Tarman had decided that he wanted both the girl and the horse.

`Who's the lady?' he asked of Silas, nodding his head towards the street.

Norry Petter, daughter of Old Simon of the Y Z,' replied the barman. `Feller she's talkin' to is one o' the outfit--name o' Green--ain't been about here long.'

The big man's features betrayed no particular interest in the information. `She's a good-looker,' he said. But his eyes could not keep away from the door-opening.

Meanwhile the pair outside continued their conversation, quite unconscious of the interest being taken in them. Noreen had not known that the puncher was in town until she saw him standing by the roan opposite the saloon. For a moment she contemplated riding past winh just a nod of recognition, and then, with a little frown of determination, she reined in and smiled a greeting. Green, who had not failed to note the hesitation, removed his hat and grinned quizzically.

`Why didn't yu?' he asked.

`Why didn't I what?' she parried, though she knew what he meant.

`Ride past without seein' me,' he said.

The girl flushed. `I never dreamt of doing that,' she protested. `At first I wasn't going to stop because...' She paused, and then added, `Some sneak saw us the day you carried me up the cliff, and told Daddy we'd been riding together; he was rather upset.'

`Didn't like the idea o' yu bein' too friendly with a common cowboy, I s'pose,' Green said, with a perceptible tinge of bitterness in his tone.

`No, it wasn't that,' she said quickly. `Why, Daddy was a cowboy once himself, and what he said applied to all the outfit.'

`An' I'm bettin' that he pointed out that I ain't handed in any account o' my life an' adventures,' Green hazarded gravely, but wint twinkling eyes.

The girl laughed gaily, glad that the hurt had passed. `He did suggest that we don't know much about you,' she admitted. `Of course, he didn't know that you had come to my rescue again.'

`An' I don't want that he should; I'm askin' yu to forget it too,' said the puncher quickly. Will yu?'

She shook her head. `I don't forget services,' she replied. `Some day I shall tell him, and he won't forget it either. Dear old Daddy, he's only thinking of me and you mustn't "hold it against him," as Larry would say.'

`Yore father is dead right,' the man said, and there was a look in his eyes she had never seen there before, which quickened her pulses and made her turn her head away. To hide her confusion, she leant forward and stroked the roan's neck with her gloved hand.

`Isn't he a beauty?' she said. `I hope you haven't taken all the spirit out of him.'

`Oh, he still gets notions,' laughed the puncher. `He knows me an' we get along fine, but I doubt if anyone else could ride him. Larry tried the other day an' didn't last a minute; he's a good horseman, too.'

At this point the conversation was interrupted. Across from the door of the saloon came Tarman, accompanied by Rayne, the keeper of the hotel, whom Noreen had known for years. He greeted her with a wave of the hand.

`Mornin', Miss Norry,' he said. `Want yu to meet Mr. Joseph Tarman, a visitor to our litnle town.'

The girl held out her hand frankly and the big man bowed over it with rather a flourish, and said: `I'm askin' yu to excuse my buttin' in like this, Miss Noreen, but when yu were pointed out to me I felt I had to make acquaintance as quickly as possible. I'm hopin' to pay yore father a visin right soon.'

His bold eyes took in every detail of her as she sat there, and her first impression was one of revolt against the possessive air he radiated.

`My father, I am sure, will be pleased to see you,' she said. `Not so pleased as I'll be,' Tarman responded heartily. `An' the first thing I'm goin' no ask him is what price he'll take for that roan there which I see carries his brand, an' which--with one exception--has taken my fancy more than anythin' I ever set eyes on.'

He smiled broadly as he spoke, showing his strong white teeth, and the girl, country-bred as she was, could not fail to understand that he was paying her what he considered to be a compliment.

`That horse is not my father's property although it bears our brand,' she said coldly. `In belongs to this gentleman.'

She indicated Green, who was quietly waiting until the interrupted conversation could be resumed. Tarman turned a somewhat insolent gaze upon the cowboy.

`Give yu a hundred dollars for the hoss,' he said.

`No,' was the curt reply.

Two hundred,' and when the cowboy shook his head, `Three hundred.'

Several of the onlookers gasped, and gazed enviously upon the owner of the coveted animal. In a land where even good horseflesh was cheap, the price offered was excessive. `Cripes! Wish I owned that hoss,' murmured one thirsty soul, visioning the number of drinks to be obtained for three hundred dollars.`Betcha a dollar he takes it.' His neighbour had been watching the cowboy closely. `Take yu,' he said instantly. He had but spoken when Green looked the would-be purchaser calmly in the face, and said:

`The hoss is not for sale.'

For a moment Tarman was nonplussed; he had felt confident that a sum more than equal to seven months' pay would tempt a cowhand to part with even a favourite mount: But he would not give in. It was his boast that he always got what he went after, and realising that mere money would not do it, he tried something else.

`See here,' he said. `Cowboys is reckoned to be good sports. Now I'll put up four hundred 'gainst the hoss an' play yu for him--any game yu like. What about it?'

`I ain't playin' for nor sellin' the hoss,' Green replied, `but'--and his voice had a rasp in it as he marked the growing sneer on the other's lips--`I'll give him to yu if yu can stay on him for five minutes by the clock.'

From the spectators of the scene came a murmur of applause, born of the instinctive loyalty for one's home town which remains in a man after he has lost almost everything else. The stranger might be all that he seemed, but public favour was, for the moment anyway, on the side of the cowboy. He had met the challenge with a sporting offer which not only promised excitement but reflected credit upon the community at large. Bets were bandied about at once, for the reputation of the roan was known, and the offer was one the visitor could hardly refuse. He had no intention of doing so.

`I'll go yu,' he laughed, `but as I don't take gifts from strangers, if I win--an' I've never seen anythin' on four legs that I couldn't ride--yu must accept the price I offered, three hundred for the hoss.'

`As yu like,' said the puncher indifferently.

Immediately the crowd, which now included nearly every male inhabitant, surged back to the sidewalks and occupied the doorways, leaving the street empty save for the horse, Green, who held it, and the newcomer. The fortunate few who possessed watches got them out in readiness to time the contest; those with money were eagerly endeavouring to place bets.

`Think yore friend'll make it?' asked one of Laban.

`I reckon,' was the stolid reply, and the questioner turned away in disgust, murmuring, 'Bloomin' parrot, on'y two words he knows. Must be one o' them ready reckoners I've heard about.'

The big man wasted no time. Directly the street was clear he stepped forward, took the reins from Green, and with a lightness not to be looked for in so heavy a man, sprang into the saddle and settled his feet in the stirrups. For perhaps five seconds nhe animal stood perfectly still, and then, with a shrill scream of rage, it instantly became a maelstrom of activity. Head down, it leapt into the air a dozen times with incredible rapidity, landing on legs as sniff as steel rods, and never allowing the rider an instant to recover from one shock before the next came. It was straightforward bucking, with no particular novelty, but the speed made it terrible.

`My Gawd! can't he buck though?' breathed one of the awed spectators. `Ten to one on the hoss.' Nobody nook up the wager. But Tarman hung on, his eyes glazing, his face white as death, and a trickle of blood oozing from his clamped lips. Jarred almost inno insensibility by the violence of the incessant jolts, he rocked in the saddle, his head jerking to and fro as nhough his neck were already broken. That he had pluck as well as strength was obvious.

There could be only one end, however, and it came soon. Again the frantic animal shot from the ground, but this time its body curved curiously in the air as it came down, upsetting the rider's already precarious balance and causing him to sway sideways. Then as the brute's forefeet landed, its hindquarters rose suddenly, and Tarman flew out of the saddle like a snone from a sling, to sprawl, face downwards, in the dust of the street.

`Seventy-five seconds,' Green said quietly, as he slipped his watch back into his pocket and sprang forward to grip the reins of the horse, which was now standing still, with heaving flanks and trembling limbs.

Seth ran to assist his friend, only to be thrust aside with a curse as Tarman scrambled to his feet. The man was transformed; in the place of the jovial good fellowship, his face, dust and blood-smeared, was now that of a fiend. Cursing, he stood there, swaying on his legs and clawing for the gun which had swung round behind him. His purpose was plain; he intended to shoot the horse.

`Don't yu,' drawled a quiet voice, and he looked into the muzzle of the cowboy's gun.

With a tremendous effort he got control of himself again, but anger still flamed winhin him. 'I'Il give you five hundred dollars for that brute, if it's only to break ins damned neck,' he cried.

`Yu couldn't buy him with all yu got,' was the contemptuous answer. `Yu had yore chance.'

Without another glance at the discomfited man he swung himself carelessly into the saddle, cuffed the horse playfully when it half-heartedly tried to throw him out again, and rode down the street.

Tarman looked for the girl but she had gone, though he knew she had witnessed his defeat, a fact which contributed not a little to his unfortunate display of temper. This was now over, and as he brushed the dust from his clothes, he said, with a rueful grin: `Well, folks, it ain't often that Joe Tarman loses his wool but I've shore got to own up to it to-day. That hoss certainly got me goin'. First time I ever was piled an' I've rid some bad ones too, but that roan's a holy terror. Say, I reckon I've swallowed pretty near an acre o' dust; what about irrigatin', an' mebbe a little game o' some sort?'

The proposal was received with acclamation of a thirsty crowd, and Poker Pete happening along very opportunely, was presented to Mr. Tarman and the little game was soon in progress. The big man lost about a hundred dollars at poker, most of it to the gambler, and with great good humour, insisted on celebrating his second defeat of the day by setting up drinks for all, an act which proclaimed him a thorough sport and soundly established his popularity. But there were those who remembered his expression when he rose from the dusty street, and were of opinion that despite his geniality the newcomer was not one to take liberties with.

Noreen rode home with much to think of. At the commencement of the scene between the visitor and the cowpuncher she had ridden a little distance away, but could not resist the temptation to turn and watch. She saw Green choose the western trail out of town, and guessed that it was deliberately done to save her from further embarrassment; while she appreciated the motive, she was conscious of a vague sense of disappointment.

Respecting Tarman she could come to no decision; he had both repelled and attracted her. Even with her small experience of the world, she recognised in him a type capable of exercising a powerful appeal to women. While he was essentially a man's man, he did not neglect the softer influences. He dressed well, and yet no one could have called him a dandy. A good tweed suit, the trousers folded neatly into the tops of his well-fitting riding-boots, a silk shirt, with a soft collar and flowing tie, and an expensive Stetson, were in marked contrast to the nondescript attire affected by most of the inhabitants of Hatchett's Folly.

As to the real man himself, Noreen could only speculate, but she remembered his face as he staggered to his feet from the dust when the horse had thrown him, and shivered. No doubt the humiliation had been a cruel one, but.... She found herself wondering how the puncher would have taken a similar defeat and had to confess that she did not know; men were so different when they were angry. But somehow she felt that Green would not have wanted to kill the horse--he would have respected it for its victory. He and Tarman were different types, she decided, and pursued the thought no further.

As the girl had surmised, Green had consciously chosen the western way out of the town in order to avoid her. To be seen speaking to her in Hatchett's mattered little, for she might have been delivering a message from her father for all the passers-by knew, but to ride away in her company was a different matter after the views Old Simon had already expressed, and Green had reasons for not wishing to exasperate the ranch-owner. As soon as he was clear of the buildings he swung round and headed easn, his mind busy with what had just taken place. He playfully pulled one of the roan's ears, a pleasantry to which the animal responded by trying to pitch him into a prickly thorn bush.

`Yu old pirut,' chided his master indulgently, when he had subdued the outburst. `Don't yu know who's atop of yu? The feller who christened yu shore knew his business. Shucks! But yu hadn't oughtta turned the nice gent into a dust-plough an' mussed up his whiskers thataway.' He laughed happily as he recalled the scene. `But, hush, he was some fierce when he got up. Yu come mighty near to passin' out that minute, Blue, if he could 'a' found his gun. An' yu come close another time, when the Pretty Lady stroked yu, yu lucky devil; one snap at her an' I'd have busted yu wide open, yu hear me, though I never seen a hoss I liked so much.' He pulled the ear again and this time there was no answering demonstration. `Good for yu,' he said. `We gotta stick togenher, for we ain't neither of us very popular around here, an' we gotta watch that chap Tarman an' the little runt that trails wint him.'

The rasp was back in his voice again as he spoke the last sentence. He knew nothing about the two visitors, had never seen either of them before, and yet at the moment his gaze clashed with that of the big man, he was conscious of a feeling of antagonism. Green had experienced the same sort of thing before and he had never been wrong; men he had trusted at sight had proved worthy, and others he had distrusted had, sooner or later, justified his doubt. He had come to believe in these intuitions. His face softened again as he remembered Noreen's smile of greeting, and that she had not `passed him up' despite her father's wish. `She shore has got sand to burn,' he told himself.

Chapter XI

Whatever else he might be, Mr. Joseph Tarman was a man of action, and when he told Noreen that he intended to visit her father `right soon' he meant just that. So the same afternoon found him, with his diminutive companion, Seth Laban, riding the trail to the Y Z ranch. He had entirely recovered his poise.

`Mighty good move we made, comin' to this Gawd-forgotten hole, Seth,' he remarked genially, when they were clear of the town.

`I reckon,' came the stereotyped reply. `What d'ye make o' that marshal, Tonk?'

'Oughtta be named Tank,' said Tarman, with a laugh. `Guess Pete owns him anyway.'

Seth nodded--he never wasted breath--and his friend continued `Plenty opportunity here, with no interference, an' good cattle country.'

`I reckon,' Seth agreed. `An' when the railway comes... `Shut yore damned face,' snapped the big man savagely.

`But there can't nobody hear,' expostulated the other.

`How in hell do yu know?' retorted Tarman. `What yu gotta remember all the time is that the railway ain't never comin' near here, an' then yu won't make no slips.'

They rode in silence for a while, Seth smarting under the reproof, and Tarman deep in thought, of a pleasant nature evidently, for he was smiling again. Presently he spoke: `That girl shore has got me goin'. I feel tempted to chuck my hand in, marry her an' settle down. She's the only child an' she'll have the Y Z when the old man cashes.'

The smaller man looked at him in quick alarm. `Yu don't mean that, Joe?' he queried. `Just when we've got everythin' fixed good. Why, yu'll be King o' the Ranges if things go right.'

Tarman laughed again. `Bet I scared yu, Seth. No, I ain't a quitter. King o' the Ranges, eh? Well, that shore sounds fine, an' she'll make a dandy Queen, I guess.'

`Better steer clear o' the skirts, Joe,' warned Laban. `Yu know what Lola told yu--that yu'd split on a woman someday.'

`Bah!' sneered Tarman. `A woman, an' a greaser at that, is liable to say anythin' when yu tell her yo're tired of her. I want the girl an' the roan hoss an' I'm agoin' to have 'em both.'

`The owner o' the hoss don't seem inclined to part with it,' said the little man, and there was something in his tone which brought the grin back to Tarman's face.

`There have been other people who had things I fancied an' didn't want to part with 'em,' he said. `They yielded to persuasion, didn't they?'

`I reckon,' replied Seth, and smiled his smile. `All the same, he looks a tough customer.'

`He's shore that,' admitted Tarman. `Somehow I gotta feeling I've seen him before, but I'm damned if I can figure where it was.'

They rode in silence again, the big man deep in thought, and the smaller one watching him with cunning eyes and gloating inwardly. He could sway him--he knew the note to strike. Many men were afraid of Joe Tarman, but he, Seth Laban, though he was treated like a tame dog more than anything else, was not afraid. The big man might become King of the Ranges, but he, Seth assured himself, would be the power behind the throne.

Old Simon was sitting on the verandah when they arrived at nhe Y Z. He welcomed them heartily but not effusively, calling a boy to take their horses, and inviting them to make themselves at home. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he remarked: `Heard about yu from my daughter.'

`Then I'm afraid yu didn't get a very flattering account,' laughed the big man. `She saw me at an unfortunate moment.' `Yu ain'n the first by a good many, if it's any comfort to yu,' smiled Simon.

`Only hoss that ever beat me,' rejoined Tarman. `Fine beast too; yu oughtta got a good price for him.'

`I gave him away,' the cattleman explained. `He was too expensive; it looked like I'd have to set up a regular hospital if the boys kept on tryin' to ride him, an' then my girl gets the fool notion she can do it--'

`Telling the story of the disobedient daughter, Daddy?' asked a bright voice behind him.

Tarman was instantly on his feet, his hand outstretched, and his dark eyes alight with admiration.

`Yu see I've wasted no time, Miss Noreen,' he said. `Yore father has been tellin' me that we are fellow-sufferers so far as the roan is concerned.'

`I was very fortunate,' Noreen replied, as he shook hands. `I hope you are not feeling any ill effects.'

`No damage,' smiled the other. `Hurt my pride, o' course; no man likes to be piled, especially with a pretty girl looking on.' Then turning to his host, he added, `That man o' yores seems to be able to handle him.'

`Reckon he's got the gift,' said the ranch-owner. `I've met up with Injuns who could do anythin' with horses.'

`Injun blood in him, shouldn't wonder,' said Tarman casually. He was watching Noreen closely as he spoke, having, in fact, purposely cast what he knew to be an aspersion on the cowboy to see if she would resent it. There was, however, nothing but indifference in her tone when she replied: `I don't think so, but I believe he was brought up among Indians and horses.'

Tarman was pleased--evidently the girl was not interested in that quarter. 'Talkin' of Injuns,' he said. `I hear they've been pesterin' yu some.'

`We've all been losin' cattle,' Simon replied, and let it go at that. He was not the man to tell all his business to a stranger. The conversation drifted from the Y Z to the country around it, and then further afield to other towns and territories. Tarman had travelled much, both East and West, and he spoke well. When he chose he could be very entertaining, and the girl found herself listening to him with an interest she had not expected to feel. Seth Laban, chewing on a cigar, spoke only when appealed to by the bigger man, but his cunning eyes missed nothing.

Down at the bunkhouse the visitors were the chief topic of conversation, and the story of what had happened in town was told over again as each member of the outfit drifted in. Dirty was the proud purveyor of the news, for happening to find himself but a few miles from Hatchett's he could not resist the temptation to ride in and take a `smile' with Silas. That worthy was not, however, to be lured into expressing any opinion on the newcomers; they seemed likely to be good customers.

The younger men made no secret of their delight over the roan's victory; they knew nothing to the discredit of Tarman, but he was a stranger, and had, they considered, tried to `run a blazer' on the Y Z. For the first time in its life the outlaw horse was popular on the ranch.

`I'd give a month's pay to 'a' bin there,' said Simple, regretfully, `an' I ain't goin' to cuss that hoss no more, though he did damn near turn me inside out when I rid him.'

`When yu what?' asked Ginger sarcastically.

`Well, I stayed with him as long as yu did anyways,' defended Simple. `Though I'm admittin' that ain't much to say.'

The foreman, who with some of the older hands had taken no part in the discussions, now looked up and said, `By all accounts, this feller stayed in the saddle longer than any o' yu.'

`Any of us, yu mean, Rattler,' corrected Larry. `Don't be so damn modest.'

`Awright, have it yore own way, on'y I ain't claimin' to have rid the boss at all,' retorted the foreman. `I was goin' to say it might not pay to be too fresh about this stranger--he may be yore boss yet, if he buys the range.'

`Buyin' the range don't mean buyin' the outfit,' said Ginger.

`Me, I don't work for a feller who'd shoot a hoss because it throwed him.'

`Huh ! What's he wantta buy the range for when he can marry Miss Norry an' get it for nothin'?' asked Dirty disgustedly. "Lo, Green.'

The owner of the roan had entered the bunkhouse just in time to hear Dirty's remark, and to catch an extraordinary expression of alarm and anger which it produced on the face of Blaynes.

`Marry hell,' the foreman exploded. `Where'd yu hear that fine tale?'

`Didn't hear it nowhere--thought it all out for myself,' retorted Dirty. `Why, it's as plain as yore face.'

Rattler ignored the insult and the almost general snigger which followed it; his mind was full of another problem altogether, one that promised to give him plenty to think about. Meanwhile, Green was receiving the congratulations of his friends, and trying to answer a dozen questions at once.

`Say, Green, what would yu 'a' done if he'd shot the hoss?' inquired one.

`Sent him chasin' it,' came the quiet reply.

A sneering laugh came from Blaynes, but he said nothing, and the entry of the cook with a huge dish of fried steaks diverted the interest of all into a more personal direction. Ginger, having forked a slab of meat to his plate, added three or four potatoes, grabbed a hunk of bread and set to work like a famished man.

`Cripes ! My appetite's that keen I could shave with it,' he mumbled.

`Pity yu didn't,' said Dirty, with a meaning glance at the stubble on the other's chin.

`Would have if yu hadn't used all the soap, yu mud-heap,' renorted Ginger, at the imminent risk of choking himself. `Shove over the sweetenin' if yu can spare any; don't yu like coffee with yore sugar?'

Dirty did not reply; he was too busy. He knew perfectly well that the man who dallied over his meal at the Y Z was liable to miss something. He was also aware that on this particular evening there was pie to follow, and he was aiming to be ready for it when it arrived, for the boys were fonder of eating pie than cookie was of making it.

The meal over, Green drifted outside, where he was soon joined by Ginger. Though usually his cheerful self, the redheaded one, since the passing of Bud, had suffered from occasional brooding spells, when no word could be got out of him.

`Yu still tellin' me not to start for the Reservation?' he said abruptly.

`I reckon I am,' Green replied. `Know anybody round here that used one o' these?'

He produced the cigarette-maker and passed it to the cowboy, who examined it curiously, and shook his head. `Never seen anythin' like it afore,' he said. `Where'd yu get her?'

`Found it in the grass beside Bud,' replied Green.

`It warn't his, an' I guess an Injun wouldn't have no use for it,' said Ginger. `What's yore idea?'

`I'm tellin' yu, but yu gotta keep it all behind yore teeth,' Green said, and proceeded to explain his theory as to the identity of the rustlers. `Now,' he added, `I asked Higgs, the storekeeper, if he sold contraptions o' this kind an' he said he never had. That was a bit ago. I was in his place this mornin' buyin' the makin's, an' he told me he'd had an inquiry for a cigarette-makin' machine, feller called Mex, who rides for Dexter. Know anythin' about him?'

Ginger swore luridly between his clenched teeth and his face hardened. `That dirty coyote,' he said. `Funny, but I thought of him when we found Bud, but I couldn't connect him up nohow. Him an' Bud had a little argument 'bout three months ago, an' Bud beat him no the draw an' whanged him over the head with his gun 'stead o' beefin' him proper. He claims to be white, but I reckon he's nhree parts Greaser an' the other part dog. He's lived in the East--I've heard him braggin' about it--an' he likely picked up that affair there. Me, I'm ridin' into town now; he may be there.'

`I'll go along,' Green said.

The red-headed puncher slipped the tell-tale little machine into the pocket of his chaps and led the way to the corral. It did not take long to saddle the horses, and soon they were trotting side by side along the trail to the town. All the youth had gone out of Ginger's face, which was set with determination. Green did not talk. He knew that a tragedy impended but he would not lift a finger to prevent it; he had come merely to see that his friend got fair play. They had not gone more than a mile when they heard the thud of hoofs from behind, and in a moment another rider joined them. It was Snap.

`Yu fellers mind if I trail along to town with yu?' he asked. `I gotta see a man about a dog. What's takin' yu in, Ginger?'

`I want to see a dog about a man,' the red-head replied grimly, and there was no smile on his lips.

The gunman made no comment and the ride was continued in silence. When they reached the town, the evening festivities were in full swing. From the dance-hall next to the hotel came the wail of a fiddle, and outside the Folly at least a dozen ponies were hitched, several bearing the Double X brand. The three men added theirs to the number and walked into the saloon.

Green led the way to the bar, and returning the greeting of Silas, ordered a round of drinks. Then he took a general survey of the room. It was fairly full; a few men were lounging against the bar, but the majority of those present were grouped around the several tables at which cards were being played. At one of these Tarman, his satellite Laban, Poker Pete, and Rayne were engaged in a game of poker. The gambler gave Green one swift look and then became studiously interested in his hand.

Green saw that the attention of both his companions was centred upon a nearer table, occupied by five men, two of whom he recognised as Snub, and Nugget, the prospector. One of the others, a short, squat fellow, moved his right arm with difficulty, and Snap grinned as he noted the fact.

`Reckon Dutch is cussin' me for that,' he said, in a low voice to Green. `They don't guess yu was in it, an' if they thought I knew it was them, they'd bust up the game pronto. Yes, that's Post, the skinny feller sittin' opposite Snub, who don't look so happy since we come in.'

Green did not need to ask who the fifth man was--Ginger's expression of cold hatred had already told him. Mex might claim to be a white man, but the sallow skin, beady eyes, thin cruel lips, and lank black hair told another story. He had evidently lost his money and his temper, and a savage imprecation escaped him as he flung his cards in for the third time in succession and began to roll a cigarette. Either from anger or inexpertness he made poor work of it, the paper broke, and he swore again.

`What's come o' yore dude pill-maker, Mex?' asked Nugget. `Lost it,' snapped the other.

`Where?'

Like a pistol shot the word rang through the room. It was Ginger who had spoken. No longer leaning carelessly against the bar, he had stepped forward and was facing his man with blazing eyes. For a moment Mex was too surprised to answer, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he sneered :

`I dunno as it's any o' yore beesness.'

For all his care in speaking the white man's tongue, the last word tripped him up, and Ginger's lips wreathed in contempt.

`I'm makin' it my beesness,' he said, and flung the little machine on the table. `That's yore toy, ain't it?'

The other man's eyes wavered a fraction as they rested on the familiar shining object, and his pasty face went a shade paler. The men beside and behind him edged a little further away. Mex rose and picked up the cigarette-maker, examining it as though to make sure it was his property. Then he answered the question :

`S'pose it is, what's it gotta do with yu? I lose it an' yu find it. Me, I'm obleege. Yu claimin' a reeward?'

One of the Double X men sniggered at this, but most of the onlookers realised that the Y Z puncher was in deadly earnest. The two men were now alone, standing with the deserted card-table between them; all play had ceased, and there was an ominous silence. Ginger took no notice of the taunt. Crouching slightly, his right hand hanging straight by his side, his narrowed eyes bored into the man facing him.

`I'm askin' yu when an' where yu lost it?' he graned.

`An' I'm tellin' yu to go to hell an' find out,' snarled the other. `I don't need to go that far,' replied Ginger, his tone cold and even. `This was found beside Bud's body, an' yu dropped it there when yu murdered him, yu dirty cattle-thief.'

For a bare second the accused man hesitated, his face grey and sickly, and then, `Yo're a damn liar,' he shouted, and reached for his gun.

Amidst the scuffling of men anxious not to intercept a possible wild shot, the two reports rang out almost as one. Then, as the acrid smoke dissipated, Mex, with a choking cry, crumpled at the knees and fell across the table, his weapon thudding on the board floor. With a set face, on which no emotion was discernible, the cowboy gazed upon the man he had slain.

`I reckon I got him for yu, Buddie,' he muttered. `An' he got me.'

He staggered and fell into the nearest chair, sprawling across it helplessly. Instantly the room came alive again, men surging round, talking excitedly. Green and Snap were examining the wounded man; they found that the bullet had ploughed between two ribs, going clean through and missing any vital spot, loss of blood and shock being responsible for Ginger's collapse. `Damn near thing--little bit more to the left an' they'd 'a' took the long trail togenher,' Snap commented, as he helped Green bandage the wound.

In the midst of this operation the door opened and the marshal came bustling in. He was a short, beefy man, with a puffy, inflamed face, in which two small eyes were set like currants in a dumpling. It is enough to say of him that the only respect he received from the majority of Hatchett's inhabitants was that engendered by his office. He wore two guns and his badge was well in evidence.

`This is a helluva fine thing, ain't it?' he began. `Why couldn't one o' yu fetch me afore the trouble started?' A dozen explained that there was no time--that it was all over in a few minutes, and another dozen began to describe the affair to the marshal, each giving his own version, and all speaking at once.

`Awright, I can hear all that later,' he said testily. `I ain't deaf, an' I don't want to be. Who's the corpse?'

The friends of the dead man had laid out the body on a form at the side of the room, covering the face with his hat. Tonk strode over and looked at it.

`Mex, eh?' he said, and scowled. `Plumb heart shot. Now will one o' yu--one, I said--tell me how it happened.'

`It was thisaway, marshal,' Post Adams said. `We're just havin' a friendly game, all quiet an' peaceful, when Ginger, Lunt, an' this other feller comes in. We don't take no notice of 'em, an' suddenly Ginger starts shootin' off his mouth at Mex, callin' him a cattle-thief, an' allowin' that he knifed Bud, which we all know was done by Injuns. Naturally Mex tells him he's a liar, an' they pulls their guns.'

`An' it was an even break,' Snap contributed. `Ginger didn't try to bush-whack him.'

The long Double X man looked uncomfortable and felt the same; the squinting eyes of the little gunman sent a chill feeling along his spine, and he inwardly cursed himself and Dutch for not having done a better job. If Snap knew--and he evidently at least suspected--life for the pair of them became a very uncertain quantity. But nothing of this showed in his manner as he answered: `Mebbe it was an even break, but Mex warn't lookin' for trouble. Ginger forced his hand. Looks to me as if he came a-purpose.'

Half a dozen voices corroborated the statement and Tonk pushed back his hat and scratched his frowsy head, looking furtively round the room. Green saw Poker Pete, who had kept well in the background, nod slightly when the marshal's travelling gaze reached him. Tonk hesitated another moment, and then said :

"Pears yo're right, Post. I guess I gotta take Ginger for this.' `Better guess again, marshal,' said a quiet voice from behind, and he turned to face the speaker, Green. The Y Z man was standing easily, his hands in plain view, and a half-smile on his lips. There was no threat in his attitude and the official began to bluster.

`Look here, yu. I represent the law.'

`Glad to hear it--some o' the marshals I've met up with on'y succeeded in mis-representin? it,' Green said pleasantly.

`Mebbe they did, that ain't nothin' to do with me,' said Tonk aggressively. `I've got the say-so in this town. Yu been runnin' on the rope too long, an' I tell yu, if I'd been around the day yu come, yu'd 'a' gone to the "cooler" 'stead o' the Y Z, an' yu can stick a pin in that.'

`Yu don't say,' remonstrated the cowboy. `An' what for?' `Beatin' up a valued citizen, that's what for,' said the marshal. Green laughed outright. `The said valued citizen being a tin horn gambler who is now present an' keepin' mighty quiet,' he sneered.

`Never yu mind,' snapped the officer, who had entirely missed the savage look which Pete had favoured him with. `If he's keepin' quiet it's on'y because he knows I'm here--'

`To do his dirty work for him,' interjected Green. Then in an instant he changed, the bantering in his voice vanished, his eyes narrowed to slits, and his attitude became one of alert preparedness.

`Let me tell yu somethin' for yore own good, marshal,' he said. `That star yo're wearin' ain't bullet-proof, an' it ain't big enough to hide behind, as many a better man than yu has found out. Everyone who saw the shootin' knows that it was an even break, an' that Mex was guilty as hell, an' showed it. I know yu got yore orders--I saw the valued citizen give 'em to yu.' Tonk flashed an uneasy look at the gambler, and Green grinned as he continued, `Yu shouldn't 'a' done that, marshal; yo're givin' the game away, an' the valued citizen ain't a bit pleased with yu. Now gents, I'm goin' to put a resolution to the meetin', namely, that Ginger goes back to the Y Z with me. Will anybody kindly second that?'

`I'm pleased to,' said Snap, his eyes twinkling.

`Thank yu, seh,' replied the proposer gravely, and then, `Gents, it has been proposed and seconded that Ginger goes with me. I will now put it to the vote. All in favour will raise both hands--empty.'

He lifted his own as he spoke and there was a gun in each. Snap followed suit, squinting hopefully at the Double X men. There was no hesitation; the marshal was not popular, and the few who would have liked to support him realised that one false move would turn the comedy into a tragedy. Even the marshal knew it, and his hands were not the last to go skyward. Green's sardonic glance swept the room.

`Carried unanimous,' he said. `Ginger, I didn't know yu was that popular.' Then to Snap, he added, `Get him on his hoss, while I count the votes again, case I've missed any.'

For several minutes he stood there, guns poised ready for instant action, and a lurking devil of mirth in his eyes. When he had given Snap sufficient time he backed slowly towards the door.

`There, marshal, yu see how wrong yu was,' he smiled. `Everybody allowed it was an even break an' wanted Ginger let alone. Why, yu even voted for it yore own self.'

`This ain't finishin' here,' snarled the officer.

`Well, well,' drawled the puncher. `But don't be in a hurry, marshal.'

He slid quickly through the door, slammed it behind him, and found his horse. Vaulting into the saddle, he waited. Snap and the wounded man were already on their way. A moment or two passed and then a narrow band of light showed that the door of the saloon was being opened. Green drove a bullet into the jamb at about the height of a shortish man's head and laughed at the speed with which the bar of light vanished.

`I told yu not to be in a hurry, marshal,' he called out, and receiving no response, added to himself, `I reckon that'll keep 'em tied for a while.'

Turning his horse he rode slowly and noiselessly in the wake of his friends, and soon overtook them. There was no pursuit; the opening of the saloon door had been the marshal's last attempt to save his face, and had resulted in his nearly losing a part of it, for the answering bullet had been much nearer than Green had guessed or intended. Tonk was taking no more chances.

Chapter XII

THE news of the avenging of Bud produced a variety of sentiment at the Y Z. Ginger's friends, naturally, approved wholeheartedly and regarded the wounded man with envy and admiration. The foreman frankly stated his opinion that the killing was a misguided piece of `damn foolishness'--that he did not believe that Mex had anything to do with the slaying of Bud, and that the only result would be a range war which would bring trouble and calamity to the Y Z. The older men, though they cared nothing for the deceased, took their cue from the foreman and were plainly pessimistic.

To Simon Petter, when he reported the matter, Blaynes was even more outspoken. He put the whole of the blame on Green, whom he accused of egging on Ginger, and hinted that he must have some hidden motive for snirring up trouble.

`He's got the earmarks of a professional gun-slinger, an' if he's that, what's he doin' around here?' he asked. `I've a hunch we oughtta give him his time.'

But Simon did not adopt the suggestion; he was conscious of a curious liking for the stranger, and at the same time, in an indefinite way, he feared him. Was his arrival at the ranch purely accidennal or was there some sinister design behind it? That was a question Simon had wrestled with several times without coming to a satisfactory solution.

`An' now, I s'pose, we'll have Dexter goin' on the warpath, an' Tonk a-comin' round here with a warrant,' pursued Blaynes. `Huh! that sponge,' sneered his employer. `If I catch him onthe Y Z I'll bake him as hard to find as water on the Staked Plain, marshal or not. As for Dexter, if he wants a fight he can have it; I ain't eatin' no dirt at his orders.'

The foreman looked at his boss in amazement; this was a side of him he did not know. Old the ranch-owner might be, but the spirit of the pioneer who had blazed his path into new counnry and fought to hold his place there remained.

`Why do yu reckon they tried to bump off Lunt?' asked Simon.

`No idea--private difference, I should say,' replied the foreman. `See here, Simon, don't get the notion that I got any use for the Double X. Yu say the word an' I'll take a dozen o' the boys an' wipe 'em up.'

The cattleman shook his head. `Let 'em make the first move,' he said. `Yu just remember what I'm tellin' yu, if they want trouble they can have it. I ain't none so shore that--'

He left the thought unspoken, gave Blaynes a nod of dismissal, and turned away. The foreman, on his way from the house, saw Noreen talking to Green by the corral, from which he had just led his horse, and the sight drew a snarling oath from his lips. The girl was going to visit the hurt man when she met the puncher, and there was reproach both in eyes and voice when she asked how he was.

`Ginger's doin' fine,' said Green, `but I reckon he won't never recover.' Then noting her look of consternation, he added, `Not if yo're goin' to nurse him.'

She blushed a little and then retorted smilingly, `Then we must find a better nurse.'

`Shucks! I didn't mean it that way,' Green protested, and grinned at the neat way in which she had turned his little joke against him.

Noreen laughed too, but in an instant her face became grave again, and she asked, `Why did you let him do it?'

He had been expecting the question and his expression sobered immediately. `Ginger is a grown man, ma'am, an' it was his business,' he explained. `Bud was his friend, and he had it to do.'

`But surely it is the business of the law to punish a criminal,' she protested.

The law, meaning the marshal,' said Green. `Well, yes, but yu see the law is such a powerful long time gettin' to work that a criminal is liable to die of old age before it gets him. An' s'pose it does get him, what happens? Why, he's allowed to escape because the sheriff is a friend, or he gets let off by a packed jury of his "peers"--the fellers who oughtta be in the dock with him. Theoretically, the law is sound enough, but out here it's just a farce and a man must do his own police-work. This feller was a

cow-thief an' a murderer--his life was twice forfeit, an' I don't see that it matters whether one man or a hundred are concerned in puttin' him out o' mischief.'

He spoke seriously, and she was conscious that it was not entirely with the object of justifying Ginger, but that they were his own views, and that she might expect him to act in accordance with them. As a Western girl, born and bred, a deed of violence was no new thing to her, but this one had come very close to her, and the horror was still fresh. She realised that he was right, but she would not admit it, even to herself.

`But under your system, the man who is fast with his gun can commit any number of crimes with impunity,' she argued. `Had this man been quicker than Ginger, he would merely have added another murder to the one he was already guilty of.'

`I ain't claimin' the system, or that it is perfect,' the cowpuncher replied. `Yu have to have some penalty for offences against life an' property. An' yu mustn't mix up killin' with murder, too many folks do that, an' plenty o' fellers get reputations as bad men who don't deserve 'em. There's two sorts o' gunmen--one who kills for the sake of it, an' the other, who won't pull a gun until he has to, an' who gives his man an even break every time. No, the law of the gun may be defective an' primitive, but without it this country wouldn't be possible. Do yu reckon that if yore father catches a rustler with the goods he'll hand him over to Tonk?'

The girl was silenced, if not convinced, for, knowing Simon, she did not expect that he would do any such thing. Green saved her the problem of answering his question by turning the conversation.

`Yore friend has come a-visitin' again,' he said, and looking towards the ranch-house she saw that Taxman and Laban had just ridden up.

`I don't make friends so easily,' she returned, and then, `You don't like him?'

`Yo're a good guesser,' he admitted. `Shucks! We break even on that--he don't like me, an'--' a gleam of mirth sparkled in his eyes, `I'm worried to death about it.'

With a flourish he replaced the hat he had been holding, slid into the saddle with the ease and grace of a young panther and sent Blue racing for the plain. Noreen proceeded on her errand of mercy and spent quite a long time with the patient. She found him cheerful, the pain of his hurt being compensated for by the fact that he had avenged his friend, and he was full of admiration for the man who had saved him from the clutches of the marshal.

`All wool an' a yard wide, that feller,' he said enthusiastically. `I reckon he'd be a good one to tie to, Miss Norry.'

The phrase was one common enough in the locality, and indicated merely that the man to whom it was applied could be trusted, but the girl grasped that there was another meaning, and though she knew Ginger was not intending anything of the sort, she felt herself flushing.

Meanwhile, Green was pushing Blue at a good pace through the Maze. Several hours' hard riding brought him to the spot he was aiming for, the blind canyon where the trail of the stolen cattle had melted away. Here he rode into the water and turned upstream, keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the cottonwoods fringing the banks. On either side the ground sloped steeply to the frowning cliffs above. It was a peaceful scene, with the sun dappling the foliage, the piping of the birds, and the chattering of the shallow river as it raced over the stones which sought to impede its course.

The cowpuncher progressed slowly, his keen gaze searching every yard of the ground. He had covered less than a mile when the canyon narrowed and he came to a blank wall of rock which appeared to be the end of it. The foot of this was masked by a thick clump of trees into which the stream disappeared. Pushing aside the branches, which at this point almost met across the water, he forced his way through and then pulled up in astonishment.

He had come to the end of the canyon, and as he had expected, the cliff was before him. At the base of it, however, was a small natural tunnel through which the river flowed. It was a curious formation, suggesting that, in some bygone paroxysm of Nature, the rocky walls of the canyon had been flung together, welding at the top and leaving a passage for the stream at the oottom. Approaching the opening, Green saw that the tunnel was too low for a rider to pass through and that the stream appeared to occupy the whole width. A faint gleam of light appraised him that it did not extend very far.

Leading the roan, he stepped forward, cautiously sounding the depth of the water; it remained shallow, however, and the bed was firm rock, lightly covered by sand brought down by the stream. In a few moments they were emerging into daylight again, only to find the path barred by a rude pole fence. This removed, the puncher Ied his horse behind a clump of bushes and carefully scanned the scene before him; he had no wish to fall into another trap.

He saw an open valley, oval in shape, and sloping gently at first and then steeply to the rim-rock on either side. The floor was covered with good grass, and winding through the middle was the stream which had led him to the place! The valley was something over a mile in length and about half that distance in width, and was devoid of trees save on the enclosing slopes, where groups of pine and birch could be seen among the thick undergrowth. A herd of about a hundred head of cattle was feeding leisurely, and appeared to be unattended.

Green advanced, still keeping under cover along one of the slopes and leading his horse. Presently he descried a small log shack, half-hidden by trees, on the opposite side of the valley; it seemed to be untenanted.

`It shore is a dandy place for rustlin',' soliloquised the puncher. `First they got a desert to lose the trail on, an' if that don't work the trick, there's a stream to drive the cattle along that'll wash out every track soon as it's made, with a tunnel nobody'd ever suspicion 'less they come straight on it, an' here's a natural feedin'-ground where stock can stay hid till yu want it. Why, it's as easy as takin' money from a sleepin' kid.'

He had now worked his way along the side of the valley until he was level with the grazing animals, but they were still too far away for him to distinguish the brand, and this was imperative.

`Gotta take a chance, Blue,' he said. `Them cows may be wear-in' honest monograms, an' we don't want to make a mistake.' Riding slowly and rather away from the herd in order not to startle it, he gradually got sufficiently near to decipher the brand. `Crossed Dumb-bell,' he muttered. `Huh, we gotta have a closer peep at that.' The loop of his whirled rope settled over the horns of the nearest steer and the roan braced back for the jolt as the frightened beast dashed off and rolled headlong. Green sprang to the ground, and having hog-tied the steer, examined the brand at his leisure. The story was plain enough.

`Frying Pan brand with another "pan" an' a bar through the handle,' commented the puncher. `Pretty slick work though; in a month or so them scars will be healed over, an' as cows don't talk none, nobody'll be any the wiser. I guess that settles it an' I'd better be driftin'.'

He released the limbs of the victim and lost no time in regaining his saddle, for a steer which had been thrown is not a proposition to be enjoyably dealt with on foot. A twitch of the rope set the brute entirely free, whereupon it bellowed furiously and charged. At the same moment came the sharp report of a rifle and the venomous hum of a bullet past the puncher's ear. He looked round and saw a couple of riders spurring down upon him from the upper end of the valley.

Green did not stay to argue. Swinging the roan so as to dodge the infuriated steer, he rode for the tunnel, another bullet which drilled a hole in his hat leaving no doubt as to the intentions of the newcomers. He did not fear that they would overtake him, but they might cripple either his mount or himself, and so prevent the information he had gained being turned to account. The pursuers did not shoot again, being apparently under the impression that they could run him down; they may even have imagined that he was ignorant of the exit at the lower end of the valley.

Halfway to the tunnel the fugitive narrowly escaped a calamity. He had to pass a scattered part of the herd, and several of the animals, with usual bovine stupidity, suddenly decided to run right across his path. Blue was going at too great a pace for a sudden swerve, and there was but one way out of the difficulty. With a supreme effort, Green lifted the roan as they reached the running steers and the horse rose and cleared the obstacle with a magnificent leap. A shout from behind, either of rage or admiration, greeted the performance.

Two minutes later the puncher reached the end of the valley, flung himself from his horse and dragged his rifle from its scabbard under the left fender of the saddle. The pursuers were still coming on but with slackening speed, as though in doubt. From their appearance and gesticulations, the puncher opined that they were Mexicans. He and his horse were hidden in a thicket of bushes. Presently, as he expected, they pulled up and he could see them arguing. He levelled his Winchester and fired; the horse of the nearer rider sank to its knees and rolled over, sending the man in the saddle sprawling. Instantly his companion wheeled to ride away, but ere he could do so the gun spoke again and the second horse went down.

`That sets yu afoot anyways, yu coyotes,' muttered the marksman, and without waiting further he led the roan through the tunnel again, mounted, and headed for home at the best speed the country would allow.

Some hours later he reached the ranch and found the owner in his favourite spot on the verandah, talking to Tarman and his companion. The girl was there, listening, but taking little part in the conversation. The cowboy slid from the saddle and trailed the reins--he had now taught Blue to stay `tied to the ground.'

"Lo, Green; yu want me?' asked Petter.

`Got some news for yu,' said the puncher, with a half-glance towards the room which served the ranch-owner as an office. But the Old Man did not take the hint.

`Well, let's hear it--our friends won't mind me 'tendin' to business for a minute,' he said, and added with a twinkle of amusement, `You met Mr. Tarman before, I think.'

Green turned his gaze upon the visitor lounging easily in his chair, and with a perfectly grave expression on his face, said quietly, `Shore, I lent him my hoss.'

For a brief instant Tarman's eyes flashed murder, and then he joined in the laugh which, started by Noreen, spread to the others.

`Yu gotta admit I didn't keep him long,' the big man said, and his laugh boomed out again. It was well done, but to the girl it did not ring true. She had caught that fleeting look and knew that the man's vanity had been rubbed on a sore spot, and that he would have cheerfully slain the offender.

`Well, well, what yu got to tell us, Green?' asked Simon.

The cowboy gave a bald account of the day's discoveries, and watched the faces of the visitors as he did so, but could see nothing more than a polite interest on either of them. His employer was plainly pleased.

`Yu didn't recognise them two fellers?'

`No, but they looked like Greasers, an' they could shoot.' `Well, if yu set 'em afoot they won't get them cows shifted without help. 'Course, mebbe they got other hosses, or there's more than just the pair of 'em.'

`If there'd been more they'd 'a' come pilin' at the first shot,' Green pointed out.

`That's so,' agreed the cattleman. `Reckon yo're tired?' `Not so as yu'd notice it,' smiled the cowboy.

`Good for yu,' said the Old Man. `Blaynes is out on the range somewheres. Get another hoss, pick up any o' the boys yu can find an' hump it to the Frying Pan. It's Job's business this time, but it's ourn too an' we got to help him. Yu didn't see any o' our cows, I s'pose?'

Green shook his head. `Hadn't time to look over the herd, but I fancy they were all Frying Pan.'

As he swung into the saddle, Seth Laban rose from his chair. 'I reckon I must be goin' too,' he said.

`Why, Seth, what's yore hurry?' asked Tarman.

`Yu know I got a date with Rayne,' replied Laban. `I told yu comin' up I couldn't stay.'

`So yu did, Seth; I done forgot it,' agreed his friend.

When Laban had taken his leave the big man turned to his host and remarked casually, `That chap Green 'pears to be a pretty capable proposition. Handy with his weapons too, judging by the way he got that boy o' yores away from the marshal.'

`Never seen him fire a shot but I should say he ain't no novice,' Simon replied.

`Was it a fair fight, Mr. Tarman?' inquired Noreen.

`Well, it was an even break, an' I told the marshal so, but it was forced on the dead man; the Y Z boys meant to get him, an' came there a-purpose. I should say Green framed it up, an' he certainly got away with it. Funny, as I was sayin' to Seth, I believe I've seen him somewhere an' can't just fix him, but I'll bet a stack he's more gunman than cowboy.'

`He knows his work,' offered the cattleman.

`Mebbe so, but if I'm right yu gotta ask yoreself what's a gunman doin' around here?' rejoined Tarman, and having planted this seed of doubt in the minds of his hearers, he went on to talk of something else.

When Green reached the bunkhouse he found Larry lounging on the bench outside. The young man promptly greeted him, `How's the cow-thief business?'

`Not so brisk as when yu were in it,' retorted his friend, with a grin. `Yu go get that four-legged table yu got into the habit o' callin' a hoss, an' drape yoreself across it; if yu can find any more o' the boys, fetch 'em along.'

`Huh ! yu got that job as foreman a'ready?' snorted the other. `If I had I'd be handin' yu yore time,' smiled Green. `The Old Man's orders; get agoin'.'

But Larry delayed another minute. `Say, do yu know that the Pretty Lady has been ridin' with the Handsome Stranger this afternoon?' he asked. Green looked at him and saw that the boy was not joshing. `What are yu goin' to do about it?' he inquired.

`Me? What's it gotta do with me?' asked Larry.

`Well, I was wonderin' that myself,' replied Green slowly, and left the other to work it out.

`Hell's bells, can yu beat it?' muttered the young man, when he realised that he had been very neatly admonished. `If he ain't the cussedest...! He gave it up and went in search of Dirty and Simple, who were somewhere about. When he returned with them, Green had turned the roan into the corral, transferring the saddle to his other pony. He explained the situation to them while they were getting their mounts, and after snatching a hasty meal, they started for the Frying Pan ranch.

`Might've took me in yore shootin' party,' reproached Larry, who, paired with Green, was leading the way.

`No place for boys,' came the drawling reply.

`Awright, grand-pop; yu old moss-heads want to hog all the fun. D'yu reckon the marshal will start anythin'?'

`I would, in his place,' Green replied grimly. `I'd start a journey, an' I'd make it a long one.'

For the greater part of the trip, however, Green was silent. Though he had not shown it, the knowledge that Noreen had been for a ride with Tarman annoyed him. He knew that this feeling was quite unwarranted, the girl had a right to dispose of her own company, and what was more reasonable than that she should show the visitor over the ranch? Nevertheless, the thought of it made him profane. Another thing that occupied his mind was the departure of Seth at the same moment as himself; it might have been just a coincidence but he felt instinctively that it was not.

He was still puzzling over this incident when they reached their destination. In spite of the darkness they had made good time, though as Dirty ruefully remarked, `Supper must be damn near forgotten by now.' They rode past the bunkhouse, from which came the tinkle of a banjo and a powerful if unmelodious chorus.

`Huh! Tryin' to scare off rustlers, I guess,' commented Simple. `Job must be away or stone deaf.'

The ranch-owner was neither, for he came to the door in answer to Green's knock. He carried a lamp in his left hand, the right being hooked in his belt in useful proximity to his gun.

"Lo, boys,' he greeted, recognising them. `What's up?'

Green explained the reason for their visit and the effect on Leeming was ludicrous--as Dirty put it--`It fair set him alight.' `Hell's bells!' he cried. `That's the way things allus happen on this blamed ranch. Here's Dirk an' six o' the boys away with the trail herd an' me with half a staff. But we'll get 'em, yu bet yu; we'll have them cows back here an' hang every damn thief we find with 'em. Yu boys will want to hit the way, I reckon?'

`We're aimin' to come with yu--we can get there by sun-up an' have a cat-nap on the way,' Green replied, adding slyly, `That is if yu want for us to come.'

`What the...' the rancher started tempestuously, and then he caught the twinkle in the speaker's eyes and grinned himself. `Yu nearly had me goin' again, blast yu,' he said. `Course I'll be pleased to death to have yore help. Come along to the bunkhouse an' stoke up while I get the boys together.'

Scrambling into a coat and snatching up a Winchester, Job led the way. At his entrance the concert ceased abruptly, and Charlie, who was sufficiently recovered to sit up in his bunk and manipulate his banjo, laid the instrument aside.

`Hump yoreselves, boys,' Leeming cried. `Green here has located our cattle an' we're agoin' after 'em. Lucky, yu better stay with Charlie; the other five, with the Y Z boys, will be enough to turn the nrick.'

`Oh hell, boss, I'm fit all right,' protested Lucky. `An' I shore owe them fellers a crack for the one they gave me.'

`Yore turn'll come--we ain't expectin' to corral the whole bunch,' said the boss. `Somebody's gotta stay. Where in blazes is that grub I told that blasted cook to put up?'

He bustled about, pouring out torrents of abuse indiscriminately directed at his own men and the cattle-thieves, and Green was amazed at the manner in which it was received.

`Ain't he the son of a gun?' privily remarked Zeb Woods, who as acting foreman in Dirk's absence got more than his share. `But durn it, he don't mean anythin'. He'd ride from hell an'-all to give any one of us a helpin' hand, an' we shore knows it. How's Ginger makin' it?'

`Doin' fine, barrin' the swellin',' Green replied.

`Swellin'? Why, where he swole?' asked the puzzled Woods. `In the head,' said Green, smiling. `Yu see, Miss Norry is nursin' him.'

A roar of laughter greeted the explanation and Woods joined in. `I'm it,' he admitted, `and the drinks are shore on me next time I meet yu in town. Say, he'll be havin' a heart attack too, eh?'

`Shucks! He done had that years ago, an' got over it, same as the rest of us,' volunteered Dirty.

A loud inquiry from the boss as to whether he'd got to wait all night for them put a period to the conversation, and no more time was lost in starting. Having a fixed objective, they headed straight across the Y Z range, in a direction which would leave the Parlour well to their left. For a time they were able to travel at a fast lope which ate up the miles, but when they left the range-land and plunged into the wilderness beyond, the pace had to be moderated.

Nevertheless, midnight found them little more than an hour's ride from their destination, and Leeming decided to rest both men and beasts. A fire was lighted, for the night air was very keen, the horses were picketed, and the men rolled up in their blankets and slept the sleep of the healthily-tired. Around them was the black silence, broken only by the sharp crackle of the burning logs, and the occasional cry of some wild denizen of the forest abroad on a predatory quest.

They were astir again at the first pale gleam of light behind the distant mountains. Swiftly this deepened and became a roseate glow from the midst of which the flaming rim of the sun climbed majestically above the peaks, tingeing them with gold. The daily miracle which turned a world of cold and darkness into one of warmth and light had taken place. But in the gulches, canyons, and wooded tracts gloom still resisted the invading daylight.

A gulp of hot coffee, a cigarette, and the party resumed its way, and by the time the conquest of the darkness was completed the blind canyon was reached. This was soon negotiated, and one by one they led their mounts through the tunnel, Green going first, with the boss of the Frying Pan following him.

`Damnation!' said the puncher disgustedly. `They've razzledazzled us.'

The valley was empty. Some hundreds of yards from where they stood were two black mounds, and as the horsemen approached, these disintegrated into winged portions which took flight; the scavengers of the desert had discovered the dead horses. No other living thing was to be seen, and Job Leeming, in his disappointment, rose to heights which astonished even his own men.

`Ain't he a ring-tailed wonder?' whispered one of them to Dirty. `I reckon he oughtta be President o' the U-nited States.' `He shore can express himself awful easy,' admitted the other `I guess I'd sooner shoot than talk a thing out with him.'

`Don't yu go makin' any mistakes about his shootin' either,' said the Frying Pan man. `He's a dead game sport.'

By this time Leeming had let off steam, and with one of his astonishing changes was prepared to accept defeat more or less philosophically.

`Well, boys, we seem to have had our trouble for nothin' they've been too clever for us,' he said. `I reckon they must have had some hosses yu didn't see, Green, or else some more o' the damn thieves happened along to shift the herd.'

The Y Z man nodded agreement, though in reality neither of the solutions satisfied him. Laban's sudden departure recurred to his mind but he could find nothing to connect an apparent stranger with the rustlers. Even if it had been done as a matter of spine against himself, it seemed inconceivable that Laban would know where to send the warning.

`Guess we'd better have a look round, now we're here,' he said. `Sorry we missed the cows, Leeming.'

`Ain't nobody's fault--just bad luck,' returned the Frying Pan boss. `Mebbe we'll pick up the trail.'

Spreading out, they combed the sides of the valley thoroughly, and found one steer only in the thick underbrush, where it had evidently been overlooked by the rustlers when the herd was gathered for a getaway. Job studied the altered brand with interest.

`Never heard of it,' he commented. `They made a good job of in. Wonder where they're sellin"em?'

At the far end there was a break in the saucer-like rim which shut the valley in, and this seemed to promise another outlet, but when nhey reached it they found that it was closed by a perpendicular ledge of rock eight feet above the grass level of the valley. From the ledge a strip of sand led through a narrow opening in the cliff to the country beyond. The stream entered at a deep gully not a yard wide, a passage impracticable even for a horse. There appeared to be no way of reaching the ledge save by climbing and the sand above it showed no tracks.

`Must have took 'em out at the other end again,' said Job. `An' that leaves us just where we was before. No good losin' time here, ooys; we'd better head for home.'

Chapter XIII

ON the following morning the foreman of the Y Z appeared at breakfast with a grin on his face, which broadened considerably when his eyes rested on Green.

`I hear yu didn't catch many rustlers,' he began.

`Yu heard correct,' the puncher said quietly.

`Yu was lookin' for 'em in the wrong place,' went on the foreman. `While you an' Job was pirootin' round that blind canyon, they was busy at the Frying Pan, liftin' another hundred head. S'pose that's news to yu?'

Green looked at the maliciously triumphant speaker in blank amazement; it certainly was news and of the very worst kind. What he liked still less was the meaning sneer conveyed in the question.

`Yu suggestin' it might not be news to me?' he asked.

The foreman hesitated. He had, only a little while before, plainly stated to his employer his belief that this man was working with the rustlers, and than the trip to the blind canyon was merely a ruse to leave the Frying Pan open for another raid. `A damn good exchange too, a hundred cows for a couple o' cayuses,' he had sneered. `If he was playin' straight, why didn't he drop the men 'stead o' the hosses? Accordin' to his story, they was shootin' at him.' Now, he would have given all he possessed to shout `Yes' and go for his gun, but he could not do it; the narrowed, grim eyes of the cowpuncher seemed to hypnotise him. The other men watched in silence.

Then Green spoke: `Take off yore belt, Blaynes,' he said, and at the same moment he unbuckled his own and laid it on the table. The foreman made no move.

`Take it off, yu white-livered skunk,' rasped the other.

The epithet cun like a lash, and with an oath, the foreman's right hand went to his belt, not to take it off, but to snatch the gun from its holster. In an instant Green divined his purpose and covered the space between them in one leap; his hands shot out and gripped the foreman's wrists just as the pistol cleared the scabbard. Madly Blaynes strove to loosen the clutch and aim the weapon, but he was powerless; he felt that he was held by steel vices which were being slowly tightened and were crushing the bones of his wrists. The pain was atrocious and the sweat showed in beads upon his forehead.

`Drop that gun, yu cur!'

The harsh order was hardly necessary, for already the weapon was falling from the numbed, lifeless fingers. As soon as he heard it thud upon the floor, Green released his grip and step

ping back, swung his right first, and sent in a crashing blow which caught Blaynes on the point of the jaw, dashing him, stunned and senseless, into a corner of the room. Then he picked up his belt, buckled it on, and without a word left the bunkhouse.

`Gosh!' said Durran, as he helped to lift the stricken man inno his bunk and tried to revive him. `I'd sooner be kicked by an army mule.'

`Served him right for tryin' to pull a gun on an unarmed man,' snorted Dirty.

`Well, mebbe it warn't the right play,' Durran had to admit; `but a foreman can't allow his outfit to rough-ride him.'

`An' he can't rough-ride them neither, which is one o' the things Rattler's gotta learn,' retorted Dirty.

On leaving the bunkhouse, Green went in search of Simon. He found him in his office, and the worried look on his face did not lighten when he saw the visitor. Green stated his business bluntly: `There's somenhin' yu have to know. Yore foreman accused me of runnin' with the gang that's rustlin' yore cows, tried to pull a gun on me, an' I knocked him cold. Reckon yu better give me my time.'

Old Simon studied the puncher for a moment. He had had dealings with many men during an eventful life and could usually size one up to his own satisfaction at least, but this one puzzled him. He did not believe that Green was crooked, and that odd feeling of attraction which he had experienced before again assailed him. He became surprisedly aware that he was loth to let the puncher go.

`What yu aimin' to do?' he asked.

`Stay around,' replied the other. `I ain't double-crossin' yu an' I'm agoin' to prove it in time, but this ranch ain't big enough for me an' Blaynes. The next play he makes will be the finish--for him.'

It was a plain statement of fact, with no trace of boast about it, and the cattle-owner knew that the speaker meant just what he said. He had to choose between the two men. For a while he was silent, trying to find a way out. Presently he hit upon one.

`I ain't accusin' yu, an' Blaynes has been with me for some time,' he began slowly. `Supposin' yu stay on the pay-roll an' let on yu have quit. I reckon that would give yu more of a free hand.'

The cowpuncher considered the proposition for a few moments and saw that it possessed advantages. As a mere loafer in town, attached to no ranch, he could not be regarded as a danger by the rustlers, and apart from the personal enmities he had acquired, which troubled him not at all, could expect to oerelieved of their attentions. Another possibility also presented itself.

`I'll take yu,' he said, `but don't yu forget that I came to ask for my time, an' yu give it me.'

`That's whatever,' Simon agreed. `We've had a hell of a row over yu beatin' up my foreman, an' we ain't on speakin' terms.' He produced a roll of bills and peeled off a number of them. `Here's what's due to yu, an' a month's pay in advance; yu want to be well heeled to hang about town. Where do yu aim to put up?'

`The hotel--I'll hear all the news there. Yu had any offers for the range?'

`Why, no,' said Simon in surprise, and then, `Well, Tarman did mention a figure, but in was so low that I took it he was jokin' an' laughed it off. What yu askin' that for?'

`Just a notion I had,' replied Green. `Well, I'll be gettin' my war-bags an' hosses; I'm takin' Blue Devil with me.'

`Shore, I gave yu the hoss,' Simon said.

The cowpuncher returned to the bunkhouse and began to pack his few belongings. The place was empty save for the invalid, Ginger, the rest of the outfit being abroad on various duties. Blaynes, according to the sick man, had eventually been restored to consciousness, and had departed, vowing all kinds of reprisals.

`Looks like yu was preparin' for a long trip,' was the nearest approach to the question that Ginger would venture on. `Only to town, but I may be there quite a spell,' said Green. `I'll be at the hotel if I'm wanted,' he added meaningly. `So long, Ginger, an' good luck.'

The wounded man asked no more, but through the open door he presently saw his friend ride away on Blue, leading his other pony, and drew his own conclusions. When, later in the day, Larry, with Dirty and Simple, rode in, he told them the news and a small indignation meeting was immediately held, which resulted in the three striding determinedly to the ranch-house. That they walked speaks eloquently for the state of their minds, for your cowboy normally will fork his pony to cross a street. Old Simon met them at the door.

`Well, boys, what's eatin' yu,' he asked, scenting trouble from their perturbed appearance.

`We understan' yu fired Green,' Larry blurted out.

`Well, what of it?' asked the boss acidly.

`We don't reckon he's had a square deal, an...' Larry bogged down.

`We want our time,' Dirty came to the rescue.

`We're speakin' for Ginger too,' added Simple, not to be left out.

For about ten seconds the old man glared at them in speechless amazement, and then the storm broke :

`Damnation!' he roared. `What the devil's it gotta do with yu if I fire a hand? Have I gotta ask a passel o' bone-headed cowwrastlers how I'm to run my own ranch? If yu want yore time yu can have it, every mother's son o' ye, but if yu got any sense at all yu'll get to hell out o' this an' mind yore own business, an' I reckon Green'll tell yu the same if yu ask him. Now, get out, 'fore I lose my wool over yu.'

As Dirty put it afterwards, `The depitation then withdrew,' and the Old Man, with a final snort of disgust, vanished into the office.

`An' now where are we?' disconsolately queried Larry, when they foregathered again at Ginger's bedside, and informed him of the result of their protest. `Did we resign, were we fired, or are we still "Wise-heads"?'

` "Bone-heads" the Old Man called us,' Dirty reminded. `But he didn't pay us off, so I reckon we still belong.'

`One o' yu ride in tonight an' see Green,' suggested Ginger. This seemed a good idea and they cut the cards to decide who should make the trip. The choice fell to Larry, much to the disgust of the other two, which was not decreased when he added cheerfully, `Now yu gotta cut to see which o' yu takes my place line-ridin' to-night--I shan't be back in time likely.'

`By Gosh, yu got nerve,' snorted Dirty.

Nevertheless, being good fellows and good friends, they submitted, and in due course Larry set out in search of the man for whom they had gone on strike. He found him in the bar of the Folly, and far less grateful than the circumstances might seem to warrant. After listening to the emissary's account of the bearding of their employer and the reception they met with, he remarked :

`Huh! "Bone-heads" he called yu, did he? Well, he got yu dead right. D'yu reckon any self-respectin' feller is goin' to let his men dictate to him? I wonder he didn't fire you straight away.'

`We did it to help yu,' Larry reminded him.

`Shore, I know,' smiled Green, `but yu get this into yore brainbox--yu can help me the best way by holdin' down yore jobs at the Y Z. There's dirty work goin' on, an' I'm aimin' to clean up before I leave the district, for my own satisfaction, yu understand. What yu gotta remember is that I'm an outawork puncher, layin' off for a spell, an' not too well disposed to the ranch that give me the bounce. When I want any o' yu I'll let yu know. Seen anythin' o' Job?'

`Nope,' said Larry, `but I hear he's the maddest man this side o' the Rockies. Simple ran across Woods an' he said Leeming damn near blew up when they got back an' found another lot lifted. These fellers ain't sleepin' on their job for shore.'

`All the same, they'll be caught nappin' one o' these days,' Green retorted, with a grin.

`See here, Don,' wheedled Larry. `What about me cuttin' loose an' throwin' in with yu? The others can look after the ranch end of it, an' two of us can keep cases on these cutthroats better than one.'

`Nothin' doin',' was the reply. `I'm playin' a lone hand for the present. Yu gotta toddle back to the Y Z like a good little boy, be very polite to the foreman, an' not too kind to me.'

`That last bit'll be easy enough, yu hog,' returned his friend, and with a casual salutation, took his departure just as Tarman, his henchman, Pete, and the marshal came in together. Green had stepped over to the bar and was talking to Silas, to whom he had already confided his rupture with the Y Z, knowing that this would be the speediest way of spreading the version he wished to be known.

`So yu ain't quittin' us for a while,' the bartender remarked. `Goin' to tie up with Leeming?'

The puncher shook his head. `Guess I'll take a holiday,' he said. `Might do a bit o' prospectin' too; there oughta be gold in some o' them creeks towards Big Chief.'

Tarman and his party were beginning a game of cards at a near-by table, and the puncher had spoken loudly enough for the words to reach them. He caught a quick look from the gambler.

`Old Nugget don't seem to find much dust; if he does he spends it somewhere else,' Silas rejoined.

`I've a hunch it's there anyways, an' I might as well give her a trial; I've got all the time there is,' Green said carelessly. He stood watching the play for a while and then went out.

`Huh! Prospectin', eh?' said the marshal, as the door closed behind him. `Reckon he won't get very fat on that. Funny how a busted puncher's thoughts allus turn to gold-diggin'.' `Yu think he meant it then?' asked Poker Pete.

`He said it loud enough.'

`He said it too loud--he meant us to hear. I'll want to see him at work afore I swaller that.'

`Bah! He won't trouble about us, Pete,' Tonk said. `He's through with the Y Z.'

`No doubt o' that,' corroborated Tarman. `I was there this afternoon. He damn near killed Blaynes, an' Petter is mighty sore over it. He'd be a useful man.'

The gambler swore luridly. `I'm agoin' to feed Mister Green to the buzzards,' he said savagely.

`I ain't objectin', Pete,' Tarman observed. `But why not use him first? Think it over.'

The man's voice was quiet, silken almost, but it carried a note of authority to which the gambler offered no further resistance. Tarman smiled. `Get him to the Fort an' put it to him--one o' the boys there can do it, a stranger, o' course. If he throws in, well an' good; if he don't keep him there.'

The emphasis on the last three words brought a meaning smile to the faces of his listeners, and Pete was quick to agree: `Yo're right, Joe, as usual; that's the play to make. I'll put California on the job--he's done some prospectin' in his time, an' he ain't known here.' Tarman nodded his approval, and the game proceeded.

On leaving the Folly, Green went to the store, where he purchased a small hatchet, a miner's pick, a shovel, and a shallow pan for washing dirt. He also replenished his stock of ammunition and tobacco, and laid in a varied assortment of provisions.

'Goin a-travellin'?' asked the storekeeper.

`Takin' a lintle holiday--got sick o' poundin' beasts,' explained the customer. `Got any fish-hooks?'

`Shore I have--if I can find 'em. Yu aimin' to combine business an' pleasure?'

`Yu called it--that's just my idea. When I get tired o' diggin' up nuggets I'll catch me a trout or two for supper.'

`Reckon yu will get more fish than gold,' laughed the old man, `though I dunno why there shouldn't be some good pickin's; it was there once.'

Having arranged for his purchases to be sent to the hotel, the puncher returned there himself, satisfied with the evening's work. He had recognised that some good excuse for his remaining in Hatchett's was essential, and that it must be one that would explain solitary excursions into the surrounding country. So he had made his bluff and with customary thoroughness intended to carry it through. That Tarman was in some way mixed up with the rustling he now felt convinced, and also that it was Laban who had so neatly circumvented the attempt to recover the stolen Frying Pan herd.

Broad smiles broke out on the faces of early risers in Hatchett's next morning when they saw a cowboy riding slowly along the street upon a pony whose air was clearly one of chastened disgust at being festooned with the unusual implements which constitute the impedimenta of a prospector. Green returned the smiles and replied in kind to the various jocular greetings. He welcomed these effusions, for they signified that he was being taken seriously. Two miles out of town he had an encounter which pleased him still more when Noreen loped round a bend in the trail. He snanched his hat off as she pulled up and surveyed his baggage with patent amusement.

`I'm glad you didn't inflict that on Blue, it would have broken his heart,' she said, and then, her face sobering, `Why have you left the Y Z?'

`Me an' the foreman had an argument,' he replied gravely, but the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes were much in evidence, and she knew that he was anything but downcast. She determined to punish him.

`Dad told me you nearly killed Blaynes,' she said severely. `I'm afraid you're of a quarrelsome disposition--we seem to have had nothing but trouble since you came.'

The reproof did not have the effect she expected, for the recipient grinned widely, and asked, `Yu blamin' me for the rustlin' too?'

`You know I did not mean that,' the girl replied indignantly. `Why do you always put me in the wrong?'

`Must be my quarrelsome disposition,' he returned, and then, noting the expression on her face, added, `I shore am a trouble-hunter, yu see.'

His quizzically woebegone air dispersed her resentment and she smiled as she said, `You have certainly made a lot of enemies. Why don't you go away?'

`Do yu want me to?' he countered.

The blunt question made her hesitate. For some reason which she did not attempt to account for she knew that she would be sorry if he took her advice but, of course, she could not tell him so.

`I am still in your debt, and I naturally do not wish that harm should come to you,' she fenced.

`Yu don't owe me anythin',' he replied. `As for enemies, well I reckon the man who never makes any don't amount to much. I ain't runnin' away.'

`You are risking your life just for a matter of pride?' she queried.

`That, an'--other things,' he smiled. `Yu see, I've a hunch there's a gold-mine around here, an' I aim to locate it.'

Noreen gathered up her reins. She did not in the least believe he was staying to hunt gold, but she knew he would not tell her anything he did not want to--he was not the type.

`I sincerely hope you will be fortunate,' she said.

`Thank you, ma'am, if I get what I'm hopin' for I'll be more than that,' the puncher said, and again there was the look in his eyes which had stirred her pulses once before in the street at Hatchett's. At the touch of the spur her pony jumped forward, and with a wave of the hand she was gone. Green watched until a turn in the trail took her from sight, and then resumed his way.

'She shore didn't want me to clear out, but shucks, there ain't nothin' to that,' he mused. `Reckon if our ears was longer, hoss, we'd make a fair pair o' jackasses, so don't yu go puttin' on any frills either.'

It was towards noon when he reached the blind canyon, for he had travelled by devious ways; it was possible that his movements might be watched and he wished his choice of a locality to commence operations to appear haphazard. Several times during the journey he had paused and investigated certain spots as though considering them. He now did the same as he stood on the bank of the stream, about halfway along the canyon, and then he spoke aloud: `She'll do. I reckon there oughta be colour in them sands, an' there's shore enough trout in the pools below. Anyway, she's a dandy place for a camp.'

He led his horse back to a strip of grass which stretched from the shady bank of the stream to the overhanging cliff which formed one of the walls of the canyon, stripped the animal and tethered it with his rope. Then winh his axe he attacked a nearby thicket and cut a number of light poles. With these, and the strippings from them, he soon erected a lean-to shelter, choosing a spot where the rock-face shelved and formed a shallow cave. In this he deposited his baggage, and having lighted a fire, began to prepare a meal. This despatched, he pottered about the camp making his hut more weatherproof, cutting additional fuel, and gathering spruce-tops for his bed. Presently he took the spade and the shallow pan and went down to the stream to make his first bid for fortune. He found it hard and disappointing work, for no sign of the precious metal rewarded his efforts.

`Durn it, this ain't goin' to be such a picnic as I thought,' he soliloquised. `Guess I'll have to look around for likelier spots.'