04 - Sudden Rides Again - 1938

Sudden Ride Again
Oliver Strange


CHAPTER I

“It may be that I'm sending you to your death.”
Ominous words, delivered in a quiet, even tone by one to whom the masking of emotion had become a habit. Short, stockily built, of middle age, attired in a suit of sober black, with a "boiled" shirt and neat cravat, there was little to distinguish him from the common herd. But looking into the shrewd grey eyes, one realized the sound judgment, courage, and determination which had placed him in authority. For this was Governor Bleke, of Arizona, a name respected, feared, or hated throughout that lawless land.
“Ain't tryin' to throw a scare into me, are yu, seh?”
The whimsical question evoked a flicker of a smile on the Governor's grave face; the speaker had not the appearance of one to be easily frightened. The long, wiry, narrow-hipped, wide-shouldered frame, clean-cut, tanned features, level, spaced, grey-blue eyes and firm jaw, all proclaimed that here was one with whom it would be unwise to trifle. Two guns, hanging low on his thighs, the holsters secured to his leathern chaps to ensure swift withdrawal, supplied a further warning. His range-rider's garb was plain and serviceable.
For a moment the elder man was silent, studying his companion, noting the curious glances at the shabby parlour, which was the best accommodation he had been able to find in the primitive little settlement dumped down in a waste of sagebrush desert.
“Wondering why I wanted you to meet me here, Jim?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, "Well, Tucson would have been too risky—my movements are watched—and it is important to my purpose that your connection with me should remain a secret.”
The cowboy smiled as he recalled the directions he had received: he was to be at Sandy Creek on a day named; in a saloon bar he would meet a "stranger," who would challenge him to a bout of poker, for which they would adjourn to the so-called hotel.
“I sorta guessed yu wouldn't travel a hundred miles to this dog's-body of a town just for a hand o' cyards," he said.
“No, it's a much more serious game and the stakes are high," Bleke replied. "You may lose your life, and I—a friend."
“Thank yu, seh," the cowboy said. "I'm sittin' in.”
A gleam of appreciation shone in the Governor's eyes, but what he said was, "Damnation, I knew it, and I hate to ask you, but I believe you're the only man who can put it across."
“Shoot, seh," the other invited coolly.
Bleke lit a cigar, rolled another over the table to his guest; and, after a few contemplative puffs, began:
“There is a man in north-west Arizona who is defying me, the law I represent and was appointed to enforce; he has to be dealt with." His keen gaze was on the younger man's face, but it told him nothing. "Have you heard of Hell City?”
The cowboy's eyes widened just a fraction. "Word of such a place has come to me, seh," he said. "Sorta hideout where a desperate man can find a welcome an' safety, no matter what he's done. I set it down as just a tale for a tenderfoot.”
The Governor's face was grim. "Unfortunately, it is a true tale," he replied. "It accounts for most of the outrages in that part of the Territory and for the continued existence and activity of some most undesirable citizens."
“yu know the location?"
“Yes, but that doesn't help much. Hell City has been described to me as a walled fortress which would need an army and artillery for its capture; I have neither. From it, bands of armed ruffians raid and rob in every direction, and for a hundred miles or more the country is in a state of terror. When complaints first began to come in, about a year ago, I sent a man to investigate. For months I had no news, and then he came back—in a coffin. Pinned to his breast was a jeering note inviting me to try again."
“They ain't very well acquainted with yu, seh.”
The Governor's voice hardened. "No, the challenge was unnecessary," he went on. "I sent again, and now I have—this." He passed over a sheet of paper and the cowboy read:

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

“That is the fantastic title this master-brigand has assumed," The Governor explained. "His followers he calls `Imps,' and their vengeance is so feared that no man dares to offend one of them.”
The cowboy was still studying the document. The writing was neat—that of an educated person—and the signature flaunting in its bold freedom. The callous ferocity, however, raised a doubt.
“Mebbe he's just puttin' up a bluff," he suggested.
“The enclosures were ears; a pair, perforated by bullets," Bleke replied. "Well, if it's a bluff, I'm calling it. I'll send a good man—my best—if he will go."
“Third time lucky," the other smiled. "Them ears has kinda got me interested.”
The Governor's expression remained grave. "Thank you, Jim," he said, but his tone betrayed a lingering reluctance; the very readiness of this reliant young fellow perturbed him, though he had depended upon it. "You don't have to," he continued. "Think it over. This is a dangerous job; the man is reputed to be a marvellous shot."
“King Burdette an' Whitey didn't waste much lead neither," came the reminder, a reference to a previous exploit' which brought a ghost of a smile to the older man's lips.
“Oh, I know you can shoot, boy," he said, "but there's more than gun-play in this. The soundrel is clever and well organized. You'll need to play your cards mighty close, but there will be an ace amongst them which may turn the trick. Can you guess what it is?"
“If yu mean my name ...?"
“Exactly, this is one time when your bad reputation should help us. The others failed because, in some way, it became known they belonged to me, but I doubt if even the devil himself would suspect me of employing `Sudden,' a noted outlaw, wanted for robbery and worse in Texas. It is more than likely that this Satan fellow will welcome you; join his band and gain his confidence.”
The cowboy's face bore a bitter expression. "I guess that won't be difficult," he said. "He's the on'y sort that has any use for me.”
The Governor nodded soberly; he knew something of the story of this black-haired young man who called himself "James Green," but was more widely known as "Sudden," a name already beginning to rank with those of the great gunmen of the West for daring and dexterity with his weapons.
Though he had no proof, he was convinced that the charge which had put a price on the youth's head was unfounded. "I'm using you, Jim," he said quietly.
The grey-blue eyes were instantly contrite. "I'm right sorry," Sudden said. "Yu saved my self-respect; I ain't goin' to forget that—ever."
“Nonsense, I got me a good man, that's all," Bleke rejoined hastily—he had all the Westerner's aversion to being thanked—adding, with a dry smile, "and I'm doing my best to lose him."
“Shucks, I'll make it," the cowboy said, with a confidence which was in no way boastfulness. "I can't get over them ears; sort o' caper yu might expect from a Greaser, but yu say he's white."
“His skin, yes, but his soul must be as black as the Pit," the Governor replied. "But he has a brain, a madman's, possibly, but the more cunning on that account. Move cautiously, Jim; remember that he'll suspect every stranger of coming from me, so don't show any eagerness to join him. I'm guessing that is where both my fellows slipped up, though I warned Dolver—the second—against it.”
Sudden smiled sardonically. "Governor, I never knowed any parents," he said. "I was raised by redskins, an' the first thing they taught me was how to walk in the water. Mister Satan will have to ask me, an' mebbe more than once—before I throw in with him.”
Bleke nodded approvingly. "I expect I can leave you to make your own plan of action. All the same, I wish I didn't have to send you, but you're my best bet, and this snake has to be scotched. Also, I'm worried about Dolver."
“Any ranches around there?"
“Several, and, of course, they are losing stock. The biggest appears to be the Double K, owned by Kenneth Keith. The nearest settlement is a place called Dugout.”
Sudden stood up. "I guess I got all I want," he said.
The older man smiled and shook his head. "Not quite, I think," he replied, producing a bag which clinked musically as he set it on the table. "Golden bullets, Jim. you'll need them; sometimes they're even more effective than those you feed to your gun."
“I got money," the cowboy objected.
“Glad to know it, but you're working for me. Also, you are about to make war, and that can't be done without a well-provided pocket. That's all I can do except give you a free hand: clean that gang up if you have to shoot every crooked scamp in it." The grey eyes were hard as granite, the firm lips clamped like a vice. "I'm wishing you luck."
“Thank yu, seh," the puncher said, and gripped the proffered palm.
Through the murky pane of the window, Bleke watched him swing lightly to the saddle of the waiting horse and ride slowly down the sordid little street, unconcerned, inscrutable.
“Damned if I can fathom him," he muttered. "For all his record, I'll wager he's white, and nerve—you might think I'd just sent him to the store for baccy. If anyone can outwit and outshoot that fiend ...”
CHAPTER II
The man on the black horse halted at the crest of the steep bluff which for nearly half an hour he had been laboriously climbing, and sat, rolling a cigarette, taking in the view. It was Nature in the raw. Immediately before him, the ground fell away in a long, rocky slope, sparsely clad with storm-stunted vegetation and terminating at the bottom of a vast basin like the crater of a gigantic extinct volcano. The floor of this enormous hollow was scarred and fissured with what looked to be cracks but which he knew for deep gorges, twisting and mounting to the encircling rim-rock. Forests of black firs, stretches of green park carpeted with tall grass and flowers, small deserts, their yellow sand greyed with sage, provided a bewildering panorama. In the far distance, a range of purple hills.
“Shore is a good country to hide in," the rider soliloquized. "A fella could be real lonesome here, if he was honin' to be.”
As if in direct contradiction, the report of a rifle rang out and the bullet whined through the air above his head. Immediately following it came a command:
“That's just a warnin'. H'ist yore han's, come right ahead an' explain yoreself.”
The face of the man to whom the words were addressed wore a comical look of chagrin. "Just 'cause yu ain't glimpsed a soul for twenty-four hours yu act like yu was never goin' to again," he told himself. "Why didn't yu toot a horn, light a fire, or somethin'—not but what standin' there on the skyline was just as good." A querulous call interrupted his self condemnation. "Gettin' impatient, huh? Well, seein' yu got the drop ...”
Dissipating wisps of smoke some hundreds of yards below showed whence the shot had come, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he began the descent of the slope. He was angry, not only with himself for his lack of ordinary caution, but with the other man. That bullet was entirely superfluous. Missing him by little, had he moved at the moment he might have got in the path of it.
“I said for yu to put yore paws up," came a rough reminder.
“Shore yu did, but my hoss needs 'em—he ain't no catamount," the other retorted, as he picked a way down the decline. "Allasame, I'd as lief break my neck as be shot.”
Having complied with the command he leaned back in the saddle, guiding the animal with his knees towards the boulder behind which the ambusher was waiting. He was within a few yards of it when the black slithered on a strip of shale and almost fell. The violent lurch appeared to nearly unseat the rider, who only saved himself by a quick snatch at the saddle-horn. When his hands went up again they did not go far and each held a six-shooter. The face of the fellow who emerged from his retreat to see what had caused the clatter was ludicrous with surprised disgust. It was not an attractive face, the eyes were set too close, and the uncared-for beard failed to conceal a loose-lipped mouth garnished with tobacco-stained teeth in which there were gaps. His rifle was in the crook of his arm, a fact which drew a hard smile from the man on the black.
“Thought yu had a shore thing, huh?" he said. "Drop that gun, pronto, an' then unbuckle yore belt an' step away from it. Any funny business an' yu'll be rappin' at the door o' hell just as soon as it takes yu to get there." When the order had been obeyed, he sheathed one of his guns and pointed hisremarks with the other. "One ca'tridge is all I need to kill a coyote, an' there's six in this li'l persuader. What's the idea, holdin' up an unoffendin' traveller?"
“Wanted to know suthin' about yu, that's all," the other said sullenly. "There's queer doin's around here."
“yo're tellin' me," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "Yu don't chance to be a sheriff, marshal, or any vermin o' that kind, do you?"
“I'm Steve Lagley, foreman o' the Double K, an' if yo're aimin' to stay in these parts it won't pay yu to be at outs with me," was the snarling reply. "Speakin' o' names, who might yu be?"
“There's a whole jag o' folk I might be, from the President o' the United States down, or up, accordin' to yore political views," the stranger retorted. "If it's any o' yore damn business, I'm James Green, a puncher from Texas."
“Travellin' for yore health, I reckon," Lagley said, with a heavy sneer.
“yu reckon good—been to school, mebbe. Yeah, the doc said my nerves was all shot up—any quick noise or movement sets 'em jangling an' I have to grip my fists to control 'em. Edgin' nearer that belt is on'y takin' yu into temptation; yu'd never make it, hombre, an' I hate diggin', 'specially without a spade.”
The badgered man, well aware that he was entirely at the mercy of this sardonic person who had so neatly turned the table upon him, expressed his feeling with more force than elegance. His audience listened with an expression of shocked reproof.
“That settles it—couldn't 'a' been a Sunday school," Sudden reflected aloud. He slipped a forefinger through the trigger-guard and revolved the weapon rapidly—the "road-agent's roll." Lagley gazed with fascinated eyes, acutely conscious that the circling muzzle did not deviate in the least, and that at any moment, either by accident or design, hot lead might be ventilating his vital parts. The drawling voice went on, "Yu fired at me, an' missed."
“I meant to miss."
“That's yore tale; I ain't believin' it."
“I could 'a' downed yu any time on the slope."
“I might 'a' done the same any time in the last ten minutes, so we break even on that." The speaker pondered a while, and then, "I'm huntin' a job an' here's one handed to me. All I gotta do is wipe yu out, dump yore remainders in a hole, wait a coupla days till they've done lookin' for yu, an' offer myself to the Double K. Mebbe they'd make me foreman—they don't seem hard to please. Why, it's easy—like money from home.”
Though he had courage, Lagley became anxious. The cold eyes, imperturbable voice, and the twirling gun, the barrel of which seemed to wink in the sunlight each time it slanted down upon him, had a mesmeric effect. Easy? He knew it; there were scores of spots at hand where his body would remain—if prowling beasts permitted—until it resolved again into the dust from which it sprang. He looked at his weapons, lying only a few feet distant, and back again at the winking warning; he hadn't a chance.
“See here, stranger, yu don't look the kind to kill a fella in cold blood •" he began, and as he saw the dawn of a satirical grin on the other's lips, added, "I'm sayin' agin I didn't try to get yu—just wanted to ask a question or two, an' played it safe. Now, I'll make a dicker with yu: forget about this, show up at the Double K to-morrow, an' yu shall have that job yu were speakin' of. What yu say?"
“I'll take yu up on that—mebbe," Sudden replied, after a brief consideration.
“Right," Lagley said, with obvious relief. "Let's be goin'.”
He had taken but one step when he noticed that the rotating gun had stopped, with the muzzle pointing towards him.
“Just a minute," came the correction. "I'll be goin', yu'll follow—presently.”
The foreman's face grew dark with anger. "Yu don't trust me?" he snapped.
“Shore I do," Sudden answered. "Ain't I takin' yore word about that job? But I'm playin' safe, like yu did. Yu won't have a lot to walk.”
He got down, still contriving to keep the other covered, scooped up the rifle and belt, hung them over the horn of the owner's saddle, and mounted again.
“How far to Dugout?" he enquired.
“Six mile—near enough," was the surly reply. "Yu can save a couple of 'em by cuttin' through Dead Tree Gulch, which'll be on yore right when yu get outa the pines."
“I'm obliged," Sudden said. "Yu'll find yore hoss an' trimmin's a piece along. I'll be seem' yu.”
He moved away, by no means oblivious to the ugly scowl which followed him. When he had covered about half a mile, he tied the led horse to a branch, and, circling round from a point where the trail crossed a patch of gravel, returned to hide himself in the undergrowth. Only a few yards separated hint' from the spot where Lagley's pony stood, swishing its tail in conflict with the flies.
“Just the rottenest luck things had to break the way they did," he muttered. "O' course he'll be mad, but I gotta find out whether he's mean as well; he shore 'pears to be, but that ain't nothin' to go on—the good in lots o' men is limited to their looks. Here he comes; keep still, yu black rascal." This to his horse, which instantly froze into an ebony statue.
Moving with the clipped, clumsy step of one who spends most of his time in a saddle, Lagley came stumbling along the trail. The range-rider's boots, with their high heels, are not fashioned for walking, and the unwonted effort had not im- proved the foreman's already-frayed temper. His lips dripped profanity.
“He certainly can cuss," the watcher murmured. "Bet m'self a dollar he lams the hoss. Damnation, I'd ruther 'a' lost.”
For Lagley's first act on reaching his pony was to kick it in the ribs, and when the animal squealed and tried to bite him, he snatched his quirt from the saddle and lashed it unmercifully.
“That'll larn yu to run out on me," he gasped, surveying the now cowed and trembling beast with savage satisfaction. "An' now I'll deal with the smarty what fetched yu here." He buckled on his belt, examined both pistol and rifle, and finding they had not been unloaded, laughed grimly. "Ain't so smart, after all," he commented. "If he takes the trail I told him he'll have found out that Dead Tree is a blind canyon an' be comin' back 'bout the time I arrive. `I'll be seeing' yu,' he sez. He won't, but he'll be hearin' from me.”
The threatened man watched him ride away and his expression was not pretty. His ruse had been more than justified, and he never could forgive one who maltreated horses.
“If it warn't so early in the game, fella, yu an' me would be settlin' our difference right now," he told himself. "Anyways, I've shorely got yore measure.”
He too mounted, but he did not follow the other. Instead, he turned abruptly to the right, picking a path for himself through thorny thickets, along shallow arroyos and across little savannahs where his mount waded belly-deep in lush grass. Presently, as he had hoped, he emerged on some sort of a road, deeply rutted by the heavy wheels of freight-wagons and scored with innumerable hoofprints. Rounding a sharp bend, he almost cannoned into a horseman travelling in the opposite direction. Both backed a little, and sat, each study-ing the other. Sudden noted the wide mouth and nose with a tendency to turn up which were the salient features of a plain but not unpleasing face. The newcomer was the first to speak:
“The world is shore a small place," he offered.
“I'm right distressed," Sudden answered, "but not bein' cock-eyed I can't see round corners."
“Me too," the other said. "Nature does play favourites, don't she? The fella with the squint has all the luck." He grinned expansively. "Yu don't happen to be lost, do yu?"
“I am unless this is the right way to the thrivin' an' populous city o' Dugout."
“Shore is. Might yu be plannin' to spend the night there?”
“Yeah, if I can find a ho-tel to take me in.”
The stranger chortled. "They'll all do that, but I'd try Black Sam's—he's liable to take yu in less'n the others; barrin' his hide, he's white, an' that wife o' his can certainly cook. Gosh! ain't it hot?”
He removed his hat and fanned himself, watching slyly. Sudden stared in amazement, for though he could not be much over twenty, his hair was grey-white, that of an old man.
“I'm obliged to yu—Frosty," Sudden said.
It was the other's turn for surprise. "How in hell did yu know that?" he asked.
“I didn't, but yore ha'r ...”
The youngster laughed. "Well, yu guess pretty good. I s'pose I'll have to tell yu 'bout that. Injuns done it, raided our cabin way back an' scalped my parents before my eyes. Then a brave grabs my golden locks an' flourishes his knife, but when they turns white in his hand—which they does from fright, yu understand—he yells an' drops everythin', figurin' I'm a sort o' spirit. I snatches the weapon an' drives it into his heart. I'm five years old at the time."
“An' I expect they were the on'y parents yu ever had," Sudden said solemnly.
The white-head grinned with delight and shoved out a paw. "Stranger, I like yu more every minute," he cried. "If yu aim to infest these parts a-tall, I'm hopin' we'll be friends."
“That goes for me, too," Sudden rejoined, as their hands met. "I reckon the Double K ain't so fur away." He had already noted the brand on the other's pony.
“On'y ten mile. Ask for Rud Homer—that's me—though Frosty will do just as well."
“My name is Jim, but I add Green to it when Igo a'visitin'. Black Sam's, I think yu said?"
“Yeah," Frosty replied, and looked uncomfortable. "See here, I was stringin' yu; that's the on'y ho-tel—there ain't no more. Dugout is rightly named, a mud-hole, nothin' else. I'm sorry."
“Forget it," Sudden grinned. "Losin' yore parents thataway—”
But Frosty threw up his hands, spurred his pony, and vanished round the bend in a whirl of dust. The rider of the black went on. He had made an enemy, but that was far too common an occurrence in his turbulent life to give him any concern; he had also, he believed, made a friend, and this was a source of satisfaction.
“Lagley is bad medicine," he mused. "I'll have trouble there. As for Frosty, I'll make him wish them parents had been scalped before he was born." He laughed as he recalled the gay, impudent face of the youth who had tried to foist that amazing fabrication upon him. "I'll bet he keeps his outfit guessin'." A new thought came. "Wonder what either of em would 'a' said if I'd asked the way to Hell City?”
CHAPTER III
Emerging from the canopied shadow of a pine forest, Sudden saw an open stretch of plain and in the midst of it, buildings, dotted about on either side of the wagon-road to form some sort of a street. They were primitive in character, constructed of hewn timber, 'dobe, and mere earth-roofed shacks. He saw no one, but as he splashed through a little creek and rode into the place, he had a feeling that he was watched.
He passed a store, a smithy, and then found what he was seeking. It was the largest of the buildings, two-storied, and formed of stout logs, with a raised and roofed verandah in front which was reached by steps. A board over the entrance bore the words, "Black Sam's Saloon." A pony with the Double K brand was hitched outside. Sudden dismounted and entered.
After the glare of the sun, he found the comparative darkness refreshing. It was a typical Western saloon. A long bar, with shelves of shining bottles, extended almost across the back, and on the boarded, sanded space in front were tables and stools. Hanging kerosene lamps provided light and there were mirrors and pictures of a crude description on the walls. The place was empty save for a big negro, whose face expanded in a broad grin at the sight of a customer.
“Howdy, sah, I suah am pleased to welcome yo' to Dugout," he boomed.
The traveller returned the smile and put down a dollar. "Whisky," he said. "Good whisky."
“Yo' don' git nuthin' else heah, sah," the darkie replied.
“Good licker, grub, beds, an' civil'ty, dat's in.:, Black Sam.”
Sudden sampled his drink and found that it was indeed superior to the rotgut so frequently retailed in the West. "I heard as much from Rud Homer," he said, his keen eyes on the other.
Black Sam's grin was again in evidence. "Ah, dat Frosty," he replied. "For onct he tell de trufe."
“Well, I'm lookin' for all them things yu mentioned, an' one other—a corral."
“Behin' de house, sah. I tak yo hoss--"
“I'm thankin' yu, but mebbe yore wife wouldn't feel equal to cookin' me a meal if she was a widow," Sudden said whimsically. "I can find it.”
He returned presently bearing his saddle, rifle and blanket, which, preceded by the host, he carried up to his room. He had no more than put the things down when the sound of a shot from below sent both of them racing downstairs again. They found four men lined up at the bar, one with a smoking pistol in his hand. He greeted the negro with a scowl.
“What's the idea, you black scum, keepin' us waitin'?" he growled. "I've a mind to blow you apart.”
Black Sam quivered, but whether with fear or rage, Sudden could not determine. He mumbled something about showing the newcomer his room, and produced a bottle and glasses. The puncher sat down and occupied himself with the construction of a cigarette, while covertly observing his company. The type was common enough: swaggering, hard-faced ruffians, driven by their own misdeeds to dwell in a land where the law was not, and ready to slit a throat for a few dollars. Their garb was that of the country, a coarse flannel shirt, homespun pants tucked into the tops of high boots, slouched hat, and a belt from which protruded the butt of a heavy revolver. On the breast of each, fashioned from leatherstained blood-red, was a small presentment of a devil, complete with horns and tail. A ghost of a smile passed over Sudden's lips when he saw it.
“Play-actin'," he murmured scornfully.
The man who had bullied the saloon-keeper, apparently their leader, was a particularly repulsive specimen. Snaky black hair framed a bloated face, the left side deeply seamed from chin to brow by a knife-wound, which, in healing, had drawn his mouth awry. The others addressed him as "Scar.”
They filled their glasses, drank and filled again, lolling on the bar, and sending contemptuous glances in his direction. He noticed that they did not offer to pay.
“Well, nigger, what's the news?" Scar asked.
“Ain't no news, sah. Town's pow'ful quiet.”
The man grinned at his companions. "Want's livenin' up, huh? We shore oughta come in off'ener, boys."
“Yo're whistlin', Scar," one agreed. "Sam here'd be glad to entertain us, eh?”
He shot the question at the saloon-keeper and got the stammered reply, "Allus pleased to see trade, sah.”
This produced a burst of laughter, and the fellow who had put the query slapped Scar on the back, and cried, "Hark to him. Trade ! He calls us trade. We must have one on that. No, it's my turn not to pay.”
He grabbed the bottle and slopped liquor into the glasses, careless whether he spilled it. They drank, and the leader turned again to Black Sam.
“So you got nothin' to tell us? Well, I ain't agreein'. Who's this stranger stayin' here an' what's he after?”
The four bullies had their eyes on the victim, enjoying his obvious embarrassment. Then a shot rang out and Scar clapped a hand to the back of his neck and spun round.
“What th' hell?" he shouted.
The man about whom he was enquiring had tilted his chair against the wall and was sitting, long legs dangling, a mocking smile on his lips. From the gun levelled at his hip the smoke curled lazily upward.
“There was a yellow-jacket on yore neck," he explained. "I don't like 'em m'self—they got red-hot tails. Sufferin' cats, there's a spider, too." Without any movement the gun spoke again and the amazed spectators saw a smear of red and bits of limbs where the bullet embedded itself in the wall. "Say, mister," the marksman called to his landlord, "yore shebang seems pretty well fixed for vermin.”
He was looking at the four as he spoke, but they chose not to notice the fact. The other three had not seen the yellow-jacket on their companion, but a man who, seated and without apparent aim, could smash spiders at ten paces, was not to be doubted—by sane people. Scar contented himself with a frown.
“That was a fool trick, stranger," he said. "You might 'a' killed me."
“Shore I might, if I'd wanted to," Sudden replied. "Did I hear yu bein' curious 'bout me?"
“Naw, I ain't interested in you none whatever," the bully lied.
“I'm obliged to yu," came the instant retort.
Scar addressed his next remark to the saloon-keeper, who had watched the scene with bulging eyes. "Where's the rider that Double K pony outside?”
Before the question could be answered, the door at the end of the bar opened and a girl appeared. At the sight of the company she hesitated a mere moment, and then, with a lift of her head, came forward.
“I must be going now, Sam," she said. "Daddy Ken will he worrying—you know how he is."
“Suah do, Miss Joan," he replied. "De Kunnel am debestest worrier in de worl' bout yo'self. I'se mighty grateful to yo' for comin' to see Mandy."
“Nonsense, her cake alone is worth riding ten miles for," she smiled, and stepped towards the exit.
She wanted to get away. Though she did not know the men, she recognized the badge, and was uneasy. They had been silent since her entrance, but their bold eyes told their admiration plain—too plainly, even for her unsophisticated mind.
There was every excuse, for she was indeed good to gaze upon. Not yet twenty, of medium height, her slim, straight body, with its ease of movement, had the lissom grace of a fawn. Her neat shirt-waist, riding-skirt, and spurred boots suited her youthful figure admirably, while, from beneath the wide-hrimmed felt hat, peeped curls of pale gold. Deep blue eyes, a short nose, and well-shaped mouth completed a picture most men would find more than attractive. The scar-faced rogue was no exception, and she had only taken one pace when he stepped in front of her.
“Wait a minute," he growled, and stood, hands on hips, surveying her from head to foot with bloodshot, leering eyes. "So yo're Ken Keith's gal, huh? I've heard o' you.”
Though her heart was beating faster than usual, her cold look and steady voice did not betray the fact.
“Then you have the advantage of me, sir," she replied.
“Mebbe, but we can put that right. My name's Roden, an' if I'd knowed there was anythin' like you to be found in this one-eyed burg, I'd 'a' spent more time in it. C'mon, le's have a drink an' git acquainted.”
The girl's cheeks flushed, but she kept her temper. "I have no desire to know you," she said. "Kindly allow me to pass." He did not move, and to her dismay, she saw his companions . close in behind him. "If any of our riders were here they would give you a lesson in manners." she added.
“But as they ain't, yo're havin' one instead," he responded. "To start with, yo're goin' to give me a li'l kiss.”
For the first time fear showed in her eyes as she realized that the brute meant what he said. Inflamed by liquor and the passion her beauty had aroused in him, he leant towards her, a bestial grin on his contorted lips. Desperately she sent an appealing look to Black Sam, but the negro was palsied by terror; he knew that he would be shot without hesitation if he interfered. Scar's claw-like fingers were about to close on the shrinking girl's shoulders when a quiet voice intervened:
“I—just—wouldn't," it drawled. "Men is bigger'n spiders, an' I could lay out the four o' yu in as many seconds. Trouble is, skunks stink just as bad when they're dead.”
The stranger, whose presence they had forgotten, was still sitting in his tilted chair, a gun levelled over his knees. Scar, who had an unpleasant conviction that it was aimed at himself, drew back his hands, whereupon the interrupter remarked meaningly:
“Just in time, hombre. Any other move an' yu'd 'a' been missin' from our midst a whole lot."
“What you hornin' in for?" Scar snarled. "It's none o' yore business."
“Shore it's none o' my business—it's a pleasure," Sudden replied, and to the girl, "Go ahead, ma'am; if anyone gets in yore way yu'll on'y have to step over him.”
The cutting edge on the last three words procured a clear path for her, and with a smile of thanks to her champion, she walked to the door. Black Sam went with her, mumbling excuses. When he returned, the stranger's weapon was still dominating the situation. Scar had a bright idea; the girl could not have got far away.
“Now the bird has flown I s'pose we can git goin'?" he asked.
The black-haired man in the chair chuckled. "yu must figure i'm dumb," he said. "Besides, yu ain't settled for yore liquor."
“Pay—Black—Sam?" Scar gasped. "Well, I'm—"
“It go on de slate, sah," the saloon-keeper said anxiously. "This is one time it don't do no such thing," Sudden told him. "Four rounds at twenty-five a throw is four dollars. Ante up."
“Twenty-five? Whisky is fifteen," one protested. "This is good stuff—twenty-five goes for yu."
“We ain't got a cent anyways—Sam'll have to trust us, as usual," Scar contributed.
“Suah, sah—" the negro began.
“Like hell he will—not," Sudden said brusquely. "Yu can hock yore hardware.”
This astounding proposition hit them like a blow. "Four guns for four measly dollars?" a cross-eyed fellow named "Squint" exploded. "You got a nerve."
“I got a gun, too," the puncher reminded. "An' it ain't a matter o' four dollars neither; it'll cost yu ten apiece—I'm bettin' there's some back payments. Get busy, Sam.”
Little as he liked the task of depriving his customers of their weapons, the saloon-keeper obeyed; he was beginning to realize that this saturnine guest was not to be argued with. Sullenly the victims submitted, and then their leader offered a comment:
“Fella with the drop can allus call the tune," he sneered. "If you didn't have—”
The front legs of the lounger's seat thudded on the floor. In three seconds he was at the bar, handing over his own guns. His smooth-shaven, tanned face was hard, his eyes threatening.
“Take care o' those, Sam, an' don't interfere," he ordered. "I can handle these coyotes my own self." He faced round. "Well, got any ideas?" he asked.
For a moment it seemed they had not; the confident audacity of the challenger had a paralysing effect; they could not credit that, facing odds of four to one, he had willingly placed himself at a disadvantage. Scar was the first to recover. His eyes gleamed.
“Fancyin' yoreself, huh?" he said. "C'mon, boys, we'll soon trim this young cock's comb for him.”
With muttered oaths, they began to move towards the man leaning indolently against the bar. He did not wait for them. One swift stride brought him to the nearest, his right fist shot out with all the momentum of the movement behind it. to land with a dull thud on the fellow's jaw. As though kicked by a mule, he tottered on his heels for an instant and crashed senseless.
“Tally one," the cowboy called, and stepped lightly to the middle of the room, where they would be unable to hem him in. "On with the dance, hombres, or do I have to fetch yu one at a time?”
The jeer brought about the result he desired—they made a concerted charge, rushing blindly forward, only to receive another lesson. Jumping back, Sudden overturned a table in their path, which not only checked but split up the attack. Scar and Squint elected to pass the obstacle on one side; the third man took the other, to his own undoing, for Sudden—expecting just such a move—sprang in, drove a left to the face, and, as the recipient's head snapped back, followed up with a perfect punch on the solar plexus. Under that venomous blow the man collapsed like a hinge and rolled in agony on the ground, gasping for breath.
“Tally two," the cowboy chanted grimly.
This further depletion of their force produced a certain hesitancy on the part of the attackers, and then Squint evolved what he regarded as an inspiration. Stooping behind his comrade's back, he snatched up and hurled one of theheavy stools. Sudden saw it coming, ducked, and the missile struck the log wall and became kindling-wood. That was a game two could play at, however, and Sudden's stool came so swiftly that Squint, unable to dodge, was rapped sharply on the forehead by one of the whirling legs, and ceased to take any further interest in the proceedings.
“Tally three," Sudden grinned. "Sorta evens things up, huh? Come an' get yores, crooked face.”
Staggered as he was by this speedy removal of his supporters, Scar did not refuse the invitation. So far the stranger had sprung the surprises; now it was his turn. But he advanced slowly, and sideways, stepping on the balls of his feet in case retreat became necessary. Sudden watched him edging closer, wondering what the game was. A cry from Black Sam told him.
“Min' de knife, sah.”
So that was it? The curious crab-like approach had enabled the ruffian to keep his right hand out of sight, so concealing the six-inch blade gripped in it.
The warning came only just in time, for at the very moment it was uttered, Scar flung himself forward and struck. A swift snatch and Sudden caught the descending wrist with his left hand, thrusting it upwards, while his right fist impacted on the other's chin with the force of a battering-ram. The knife sang on the boards, the owner's head swayed on his shoulders, and another raking right sent him down in an untidy heap. The negro, his eyes like saucers, came from behind the bar to survey the battlefield.
“Sam, a little more an' I'd 'a' lost my temper," the victor confessed.
“My lan', sah, I done think yo' kill 'em all," Sam said, in an awed tone.
“Shucks, they ain't hurt—much," Sudden replied, returning to his belt the guns the saloon-keeper had brought him. "They're comin' round a'ready, but I figure they've had enough. Well, seein' I made the mess, I s'pose I gotta clear it up.”
The prostrate forms on the floor were showing signs of life, and the man whose internal economy had been so rudely assailed had already climbed slowly to an upright position. He had no more than achieved this when he felt himself seized by collar and belt, propelled to the door, and hurled down the steps into the street, the soft sand of which he ploughed with his face, a feat which evoked ironical cheers from a group of loungers who witnessed it.
The applause brought others, popping out of their holes like rabbits, to learn what was happening. They arrived in time to see a second form catapulted from the saloon entrance.
“Black Sam has hired a bouncer, an' boy, does he know his job?" one of them exclaimed admiringly.
A third figure thudded into the sand, then a fourth, and when this last scrambled to his feet and shook a furious fist, he was recognized and the enjoyment of the onlookers gave way to an expression of unease.
“Scar Roden," the blacksmith, Naylor, muttered. "That fella can't know what he's takin' on. This'll mean trouble for Dugout.”
The puncher had appeared, standing in the doorway, his thumbs hooked in his belt. The saloon-keeper was hovering fearfully in the background. Sudden had a word to say:
“I'm stayin' in this neck o' the woods a piece an' I'm givin' notice that if anythin' unpleasant happens to Sam here, I'll send yu four misfits to hell so fast yu'll singe on the way. Now, beat it.”
He watched until they disappeared among the low hills which masked the western approach to the town, and then turned to his host."I reckon I've lost yu four customers," he said, but his grin was anything but repentant.
“Yo' done save me money, sah," Sam replied. "Dem Imps neber pay nobody.”
Men were heading for the saloon, eager for information, and Sudden slipped away to his room, leaving the negro to make what explanations he chose.
CHAPTER IV
His apartment was not luxurious, for it contained only a pallet-bed, a chair, a bucket of water, soap and towel, but it was spotless. He smiled as he remembered Frosty's attempt to mislead him.
“An' me a stranger," he said reprovingly, though it was the very thing he would have done himself. "Allasame, I'll gamble he's white, an' somethin' is sayin' mighty loud that I'll need friends.”
His window overlooked the corral and he could see his horse, Nigger, placidly nibbling the grass. He raised the sill and looked down; the ground was but a dozen feet below—it would be easy to leave that way if necessary. So far, save for Lagley, things had gone well. The men he had punished belonged to the mysterious "Satan" he had come to find and deal with, and he had deliberately made the most of the opportunity the girl's advent offered.
“If he's the sort I figure, he'll wanta see the man who, single-handed, beat up four of his toughs," he reflected aloud. "An' it's possible Keith might be grateful, which'll level up for Lagley." His mind reverted to material needs. "Fightin' must make a fella peckish; I could eat a hoss—a'most.”
He went downstairs to find a meal waiting for him in the parlour behind the bar, and a shining-faced, buxom negress who bobbed a curtsey when he entered.
“Suah hope it ain't spoiled, sah," she said. "Done ask dat man o' mine to tell yo' but he don' think o' nothin' but de ol' bar."
“It was my fault, ma'am," Sudden smiled. "I was just dreamin'. My! that steak looks good.”
She waited while he ate a mouthful, and departed with his praises ringing in her ears. The puncher had made another friend, unmeaningly, for the meal was perfect. Having despatched it, he went into the bar. Business was booming, and evidently the proprietor had been talking, for the afternoon's fracas appeared to be the sole topic of conversation. The smith, a big fellow, with a rugged but not unpleasing face, stepped at once to the cowboy.
“Mister, my name's Naylor, an' I'd like to shake with you," he said. "The way you played with them sots was good to see.”
They shook hands, Sudden mentioned his name, and was, in turn, presented to Jansen, the store-keeper, Polter, who ran an eating-house, and a dried-up, rather silent little man called Birt, who owned a freight-wagon, and was the town's link with the outside world.
“It was time someone showed 'em they don't own the place," the store-keeper supplemented. "Few weeks ago, Roden comes in, selects some goods, an' starts to walk out. When I remind him he ain't paid he looks ugly, an' sez, `Ain't my credit good?' I tells him I don't give none. `Y o're bebeginnin' to-day,' he replies, an' backs out with his gun on me. Well, life's worth more'n ten dollars."
“They got a lesson this arternoon, but there'll be doin's when the news of it gits to Hell City," Polter opined.
Sudden asked a question; it was the smith who answered:
“It's the stronghold of the worst band of rustlers an' road-agents in Arizona, the last refuge o' the hunted outlaw. The blacker a man's record is, the warmer his welcome. Satan, their leader calls hisself, an' it ain't no boast. Him an' his Imps has got this country buffaloed. That was four of 'em you manhandled."
“Yu think they'll talk?” the puncher asked. “Me, I'd be dumb as a clam."
“Satan fin' out, sah," Sam said dolefully. "He hear eberyt'ing—he have de magic.”
Sudden laughed and slapped a gold piece on the bar. "That's his magic, ol'-timer," he replied. "The most powerful in the world, save this." He drew a cartridge from his belt and stood it beside the coin. "Lead lets the life out'n a man an' all the gold in creation won't put it back. If he does hear, I guess yu needn't to worry—he won't have any sympathy for four men who let one send 'em packin'."
“Somethin' in that," Jansen admitted. "By all accounts, they'll be lucky to git off with a tongue-lashin'."
“What's he like?"
“Young—'bout yore age, I'd say—middlin' size, an' allus wears a mask, even amongst his own men," was the reply. "He's reputed to ride an' shoot like Old Nick hisself."
“An' that's all yu know?”
The freighter spoke for the first time. "Not quite," he said. "We know he don't like bein' discussed." He looked sardonically at the stranger. "Lem Roberts opened his mouth pretty wide a month back an' two days later we found him hanging from a tree on the trail-side with one o' them little red devils pinned to his vest.”
This ended the subject. Sudden replaced his cartridge, and pointed to the gold coin. "Sam, I believe yo're a bit of a wizard yore own self," he smiled. "Just pass a hand over that an' see if yu can turn it into liquor; I'm settin' 'em up for the company.”
This generous gesture sealed the cowboy's popularity and did much to dispel the suspicion with which a frontier community was wont to receive a stranger. Even Black Sam forgot his fears for the future and regained his customary broad smile. It was not until later, when the saloon was closed,that his face grew gloomy again. Sudden went straight to the point:
“Yu fellas are holdin' out on me," he said. "Who is this jasper yu all 'pear to be so scared of?”
The negro shook his head. "I dunno, sah—nobody dunno, but it's claimed he's Kunnel Keith's son, young Massa Jeff." • Sudden's eyebrows rose. "Keith o' the Double K?" he cried. "How come?"
“Keith lose his wife when de chile is born," Sam explained. "I don' reckon he eber forgive de boy for dat—he was mighty 'tached to her. It mak' him hard like de flint, an' young Jeff he grow up de same, bot' proud an' obst'nate as de mule. It was when de boy comes back from college dat de big trouble begins, mebbe four-five years back. 'Stead o' bein' de owner's son, Jeff has to work as one o' de outfit, an' for de same pay. Well, he don' kick, but I 'spect he found it middlin' dull aroun' heah after de East, an' he spends a lot o' time at Red Rock, thirty mile no'th. De tales come o' drinkin', high play, an' den a man is hurt at de card-table. Foh his own name, de Kunnel gits him out'n de mess, but done tells him he neber wants to see his face agin. `Yo' shan't,' Jeff sez, `but dat don' mean I'm leavin' de country like a whipped houn' at yore biddin'."
“Which might explain the mask, huh?"
“Suah looks dataway, sah. We don' heah no news o' Jeff for a good whiles an' den a herd o' Double K steers is stole; one o' de rustlers has his face hid by a red bandanner. Next, word comes dat folk is livin' in de ol' Injun dwellin's an' dat's de start o' Hell City."
“An' what d'yu think yoreself, Sam?"
“I'se feared it's true, sah," was the reluctant reply. "Satan visit Dugout onct, an' he look like Jeff; same size, voice, dress, an' use his favourite queer cuss-word, `By Christmas.' “
For some moments Sudden was silent, pondering over the singular story, and then he put a question.
“She de orphan chile of an ol' friend—de Kunnel took charge of her 'bout ten year back," Sam told him. "I guess he hoped she an' Jeff'd tie up an' dat was suthin' else he had agin de boy."
“She's pretty enough to please most men," the puncher said.
“A mighty sweet gal," the saloon-keeper agreed, "an' if de 01' Man hadn't showed his han' so plain ...”
Sudden nodded. "Ever been to this Heil City?" he asked.
“Lordy, no sah," Sam said. "I don' want no truck with dal outlaw trash. 'Sides, a fella snoopin' roun' dere is li'ble to catch a bullet.”
The obvious warning had no effect. "I must have a look at it," Sudden smiled. "I'm curious, an' I might wanta join up with Mister Satan, after all.”
He left his host scratching his woolly poll in perplexity over this last disturbing proposition.
Sudden had just finished his morning meal in the parlour when he heard a loud and cheerful voice in the bar.
“'Lo, Sam, yu got a cow-person stayin' here—tall fella with hair as black as yore hide—who looks like a rustler an' probably is one?"
“Mistah Green, sah," the saloon-keeper began.
“That's the name," chimed in the cheerful one. "Yu go tell the gent that the sheriff o' Dugout needs him right away.”
“How long dis town own a sher'ff?" Sam queried. "'Bout ten minutes—I just bin app'inted a-purpose, an'see, if he tries to leave by the back window, smoke him up.”
“De debbil! What he wanted foh, Frosty?"
“Just murder, arson, robbery with violence, cheatin' at cyards, desertin' his wife an' kids, an'—"
“Consortin' with a low character by the name o' Rud Homer," put in a quiet voice from the doorway leading to the rear of the premises. "Howdy.”
Frosty stared at him open-mouthed. "Musta bin romancin' —yu ain't marked," he muttered, and then, "Told Naylor just now that I'd come in to git yu an' he advised me to fetch the rest o' the outfit. Said yu fought four o' Satan's toughs yestiddy an' threw 'em out on their ears."
“He was stringin' yu," Sudden said, and added, "I hope there's somethin' yu do better than lyin'."
“Shore there is," Frosty said eagerly. "Set 'em up, ol'timer." He dived into a pocket and a look of dismay followed the action. "Hell, I won't have a nickel till pay-day."
“Yu can hock yore gun," Sudden suggested, with a sly wink at the man behind the bar. "That's the rule, ain't it, Sam?"
“Suah is, gents," was the reply.
Frosty turned belligerently upon him. "An' who in blazes is goin' to fall for that in this country?" he asked.
“Scar an' three of his friends fell for it," Sudden said. "Fell considerable hard, too.”
Light came to the Double K rider. 'Then Naylor told the truth—yu did mix it with them scallawags?"
“There was a li'l argument," Sudden admitted. "They left in a hunry an' forgot their shootin'-irons.”
Frosty grinned and slammed his gun down. "Trot out the pain-killer, Sam," he said. "The new rule goes.”
The saloon-keeper pushed the weapon back. "Not foh mah fren's, sah," he corrected. "Dey's on de house."
“Well sheriff," Sudden began.
-Aw, forget it," the other smiled. "Dugout's got no use for one anyways, she's dead, an' on'y needs an undertaker." Later, as they rode in the direction of the Double K ranch, Sudden said bluntly, "What's Keith want with me?”
“Hell, yu ain't gotta have four eyes to see that," came the reply. "Didn't yu git his gal out'n a jam? Any o' the boys would 'a' given a month's pay for the chance. Yu must be one o' those lucky guys."
“Shore, lucky don't begin to tell about me," Sudden retorted, with such emphatic bitterness that his companion stared. "Shucks, I don't need any thanks; I've a mind to go back."
“Then I'll have to bring the outfit," Frosty said."When the 01' Man wants a thing it has gotta be got, come hell or high water. Are yu goin' to make me fall down on my job?”
The puncher's respect for his new friend's shrewdness increased; this was an argument to which there was only one reply.
“Yu win," he said, and presently, "They were talkin' in the bar last night 'bout Hell City; ever seen it?"
“From the outside on'y, an' that's a-plenty."
“Is the boss of it young Keith?”
The Double K cowboy shrugged. "Common talk sez so, an' all the signs read that way," he replied. "Allasame, I dunno. Time he left here, Jeff warn't bad, just wild an' headstrong. When yu ride a colt too hard yu break its spirit or turn it into an outlaw. The Colonel didn't savvy what he was doin'. He's a good rancher, an' square, but, if he gits to Paradise—which is some doubtful--I'll bet he'll want to run it."
“Stiff-necked, huh?"
“Brother, yu said it; I don't reckon that fella ever does see his own feet. He wants Jeff an' Miss Joan to make a match,an' a blind man could tell they's headin' that way, but he gives the boy orders, puttin' him on the prod immediate. If he'd waited, but there, Ken Keith never could wait, an' I'll wager he's cussin' me out right now because I can't ride twenty mile in as many minutes.”
CHAPTER V
The Double K range occupied an expansive tract of open country towards the end of the big basin and about ten miles south of Dugout. The ranch-house faced a long, grassy incline, and was protected from the sun by lofty pines. It was a wide, one-storied building of trimmed timber, with a roofed verandah along the whole front, and chimneys of stone. The bunkhouse, smithy, storage-barns and corrals were about a hundred yards distant. As the riders aproached, they could see a tall figure striding up and down le verandah.
“Like I said, callin' me everythin' he can think of," Frosty grinned, "an' lemme tell yu, he knows some words. Allasame, if he offers yu a job I hope yu'll take it; I'd admire to have yu here."
“I thought yu were tryin' to scare me away." Sudden smiled.
His companion shot a sly glance at him. "I'd say yu don't scare easy. Don't git any wrong ideas 'bout the 01' Man; he's all wool, an' we're proud of him; also, the pay an' the grub is good."
“The foreman—is he good, too?”
Frosty frowned a little. "Sam's mouth opens too easy.”
“He never named him," Sudden said. "I like to know somethin' of the man I take orders from."
“Him an' me don't exactly hit it, but that ain't to say he an't cover his job," Frosty said bluntly.
In a few moments they reached the ranch-house and dismounted. Colonel Keith was on the far side of fifty, but his erect, spare frame showed no sign of age. He had a large, high-bridged nose, keen black eyes set beneath bushy eyebrows, thin, carefully shaven lips, and he wore his grey hair somewhat long. A suit of fine white linen gave him the appearance of a prosperous planter rather than a cattleman.
“Breedin' there, an' pride," Sudden decided. "Wouldn't lift his lid to a king—less he liked him."
“Well, boss, I got him," Frosty announced.
“My feeble intellect had already divined as much," was the unsmiling reply. "You have not, I hope, been hurrying." Without giving the abashed cowboy time to answer he turned to the visitor. "That's a fine horse you have; Homer will take care of it.”
Sudden shook his head. "I'd best 'tend to that myself," he said. "Nigger is a one-man hoss.”
As they unsaddled and turned the animals loose in the corral, Frosty grimaced ruefully, and remarked, "Didn't I say he had a razor-tongue?"
“yu shorely asked for it. He's got eyes, too, ain't he?”
Sudden returned to the verandah alone, his companion not being anxious for another rebuff. The rancher pointed to a chair.
“We will sit here, if you please," he said, "The view is considered a fine one.”
It was indeed. The expanse of grass-land, hemmed in by a strip of broken country beyond which forested slopes climbed steeply to the craggy, battlemented hills which formed the rim-rock of the great valley, presented a picture to please the eye of any lover of Nature. Keith gave the puncher little time to admire it.
“Mister Green, I am doubly in your debt," he began. "For protecting my adopted daughter from insult, and for giving me this opportunity of thanking you." He finished with an old-fashioned bow.
“Nothin' to that, seh," Sudden protested uncomfortably. "I just happened to be there."
“Very fortunately for Joan," the rancher said. "Sam is an old servant and an excellent fellow, but he has the pluck of a rabbit." His eyes flashed. "They should have died," he added vehemently. "Of course, you are a stranger...."
“I learned 'em a lesson," the puncher pointed out.
“So I heard, seh," Keith replied, and with a wisp of a smile. "I, too, have my magic. You see, my position renders it necessary that I should know all that ,.takes place in the valley; it is not idle curiosity. Neither is it when I ask why you have come to these parts?"
“I'm just a puncher who has pulled his picket-pin, havin' got tired o' lookin' at the same bit o' the world every mornin'. Allus had the travel itch—never could stay put for long. I've no folks an' no friends.”
The rancher nodded. He knew the type and had not expected to receive any definite information. The average cowboy was a nomad by nature, liable to wander in search of new pastures from sheer restlessness. But though he accepted the explanation, he did so with reservations, being convinced that this nonchalant but extremely competent-looking young man, who wore two guns and had proved his ability to take care of himself, was something more than he had claimed.
'Would you care to ride for me?" he asked abruptly.
Sudden hesitated; save in moments of stress, when he could emulate lightning itself, he did not make rapid decisions. Keith misunderstood his silence.
“You have heard I'm a hard man to work for?" he suggested.
“No, seh, the word I had was that yore men are proud o'yu, an' that the pay an' grub is good," Sudden smiled. "I'm just wonderin' why yu offer me a job?"
“you have done me a service," the other reminded, and when the visitor made a gesture of dissent, "and you appear to be the kind of man I need."
“I can handle cattle."
“I want someone who can handle men—miscreants like those you dealt with yesterday," the rancher said harshly. "I want that nest of thieves and cut-throats, Hell City--of which you must now have heard—wiped out. Above all, I want to see their leader, who has robbed, flouted, and jeered at me, broken, lying in the dust at my feet, begging for his life.”
The low, tense tones, flaming eyes, and clamped, set jaw testified to the passion which possessed him. In a moment it passed and Kenneth Keith was again the cold, courteous gentleman.
“The fellow is a menace to the whole community, Mister Green," he went on. "A cancerous growth which must be ruthlessly removed. I have written to the Governor, but apparently he can do nothing; we must take the law into our own hands. Well, what do you say?”
Though this was the offer for which he had hoped, Sudden did not wish to seem too eager, and it was only after a pause that he said:
“I'm takin' a hand, but I gotta play the cyards my own way. To begin with I'll be just one o' yore punchers—yu havin' put me on the pay-roll for helpin' Miss Keith. That'll give me time to look around." He waited, and then, "If I get a chance to down this leader would that be all right with yu?”
The elder man's face paled. "I would prefer to have him brought in for me to pass judgment on," he said slowly.
“I savvy," Sudden replied, and was glad he had asked the question. Somewhere in this proud, hard parent there still glowed a spark of affection for the son of his body.
The appearance of the girl interrupted the conversation, and the cowboy had to submit while she thanked him prettily.
“Green is going to ride for the Double K, Joan," Keith told her. "I scarcely think any of that devil's brood will interfere with you again." His voice grew stern. "If they do, he has my instructions to deal with them as they deserve."
“I hope the lesson they have received will be sufficient," she said, but there was fear in her eyes.
Sudden made a mental note, and then—in response to the rancher's hail—Frosty came up from the corral. His face split in a broad grin when he learned that the Double K had hired a hand.
“Show him where he sleeps, and then"—Keith's thin smile was in evidence—"you can go with him to Dugout to fetch his things.”
As they went to the corral for their horses, Frosty looked at his new friend and said with a laugh:
“That's the 01' Man all over : lashes yu with that tongue o' his one minute, an' the next, does somethin' yu want but dasn't ask for. I'm thunderin' glad yo're joinin' us, Jim, an' Sam will be, too."
“He's losin' a boarder."
“He's gainin' a friend," came the swift retort, "an' bein' the colour he is, he don't have too many.”
His prophecy proved correct, for when they returned to Dugout with the news, the saloon-keeper's delight and relief were obvious.
“I'se pow'ful pleased yo' ain't leavin' us, sah," he beamed. "Shucks, them hombres would say I'd run away,”
Sudden excused. "Ain't called for their guns, I s'pose?”
It appeared they had. Soon after the cowboys set out forthe Double K, a youth arrived, paid the money, and re- deemed the weapons. He left a message.
“I was to tell de stranger dat he'll suah see dem guns some mo'," the negro said.
Frosty chuckled. "I'll take to totin' a couple, Jim; that'll even up.”
They devoured a meal, praised the cook until her grin of gratification threatened to engulf her ears, and headed once more for the Double K. By the time they reached it, riders were coming in from the range.
“Yu'll bring the strength up to fifteen, includin' the foreman," Frosty informed. "They's a middlin' good crew, though—well, mebbe it's my fault."
“That they's a good crew?" came the artless question.
“No, yu flathead, an' don't yu go to copyin' the 01' Man—one like him is all this ranch'll stand," Frosty said. "My fault if I can't like one or two as well as the rest. I expect I don't make friends easy."
“I've noticed it," Sudden remarked gravely. "Yu need to know a fella a long, long whiles before he captures yore youthful affection."
“Oh, go to—chapel," the young man told him, and gave his mount a swipe on the rump which sent it careering into the corral.
As they moved towards the bunkhouse a chubby, round-face cowboy approached, and was promptly hailed:
“Hi, Lazy, say `Howdy' to Jim Green, who's come to help the rest of us do yore job for yu.”
The maligned one grinned and shoved out a paw. "Pleased to meetcha," he said, "My name's `Lacey'; these ignorant cow-wrestlers mis-pronounce it 'cause I do more work than any three of 'ern." He looked at Frosty. "Steve's wantin' to know where yu bin loafin' all the day?"
“Tell him to ask the Colonel.”
The Double K bunkhouse was a large one and the built-in bunks arranged along each side left ample room for the long table which served for meals. At the far end a door led to the kitchen. Most of the riders had already taken their seats and were exchanging good-humoured banter when Frosty and his companions entered. Frosty conducted the newcomer to the head of the table, where Lagley was standing in conversation with a small, middle-aged man with ferrety eyes and a sour expression. This was Turvey, supposed to be more or less in the foreman's confidence.
“Oh, Steve, this is Jim Green," Frosty announced. "I reckon the 01' Man will have told yu about him.”
The foreman spun round and glared when he saw the stranger who had humiliated him. Stark hostility shone in his eyes for an instant and as quickly died away. But Sudden noted it.
“I ain't seen Keith," Lagley said gruffly. "What was it he should 'a' told me?"
“Why, to put Jim on the pay-roll, o' course."
“No `of course' about it till I've spoke with the owner," the foreman snapped. "What yu bin doin' to-day?"
“Better ask him 'bout that, too," Frosty advised. "C'mon, Jim, let's git started afore these fellas wolf the lot." And, as they found seats, "Me, I'm a small eater."
“My Gawd!" the tall, thin man on his left breathed fervently.
“He's sayin' grace," Frosty explained aloud. "Well brought up, Lanky was. Fact is, they brought him up so far he never had a chance to fill out."
“An' he still ain't, sittin' next yu at meals," the long one complained. "See here, stranger, lemme tell yu a true tale. Frosty here once went to a barbecue an' the rancher who was givin' the party took him to where they was roasting the ox—whole. `There,' he sez proudly, `how'll that do yu?' `It'll dome fine,' Frosty replies. `But what are the other folks goin' to have?' “
The story produced a burst of laughter in which the hero of it joined. "Lanky, if yu on'y worked as well as yu lie, there'd be nothin' for the rest of us to do," he complimented. "Fortunately, it ain't possible.”
A harsh voice from the top of the table suddenly stilled the hum of conversation.
“What's this I'm told o' Black Sam committin' sooicide?”
The men looked up in surprise and shook their heads; save Frosty, not one of them had heard of the happenings in Dugout the previous afternoon. An oldish, grey-bearded puncher was the first to speak.
“That's bad news. I don't cotton much to niggers, but Sam was a good sort, an' I'm sorry he's passed out.”
“I didn't say he had—yet," Lagley said.
“When a fella has committed sooicide, he's dead," the other replied. "Never knowed a case otherwise."
“It amounts to the same thing, Goudie," the foreman retorted. "Sam flung four o' the Imps out'n his saloon yestiddy. How long d'yu figure they'll let him live?"
“Good for Sam," one of the younger men shouted.
But the majority of the faces showed only concern. "No, bad for Sam," Goudie corrected. "Yo're right, Steve; they'll kill him—shore."
“Yore facts is wrong, Steve," Frosty interjected, and gasped as Sudden's elbow administered a warning. "It was a stranger what throwed them bums out." He went on to tell the story, without, however, divulging that the chief actor was present. The recital elicited both amusement and jubila- , tion.
“Beat up four of 'em with his bare fists an' made 'em hock their guns?" laughed one. "I'd 'a' give a blue stack to 'a' seen it."
“I'd shore like to meet that stranger—in friendship," Lazy contributed, blissfully unconscious that he was sitting next to him. "He must be a born fighter."
“A born fool, yu mean," Lagley sneered. Suspicion suddenly came to him, and without another word, he got up and went out. Scowling heavily, he strode to the ranch-house, to find the owner sitting on the verandah.
“Well, Lagley, what is troubling you?" Keith asked. "That new hand yu took on. What d'yu know about him?”
“Do I have to tell you?"
“I'm foreman, an' responsible to yu for the men."
“You relieve me, I was beginning to think I was responsible to you," came the caustic response. "My knowledge of him is limited to the fact that he has done what the rest of you cannot—administered a rebuff to some of those gaol-birds from Hell City."
“An' sneaks off here hopin' the Double K will protect him," the foreman gibed.
“Nothing of the kind, he came at my invitation. Have you anything against him?"
“Don't like his looks," was the sullen answer.
“A pity," the Colonel said. "What are you going to do about it—throw up your job?”
This astounding suggestion, made in acid tones, completed the man's discomfiture. Inwardly seething with a rage he dared not show, he was quick to recognize his danger; there were others in the outfit who could take his place, and this cynical old tyrant might even ... He writhed at the thought of being "given his time" by the saturnine stranger.
“Yu know I warn't thinkin' no such thing, boss," he protested. "I was on'y figurin' that when Satan learns we've hired that fella, he'll take action, that's all."
“Which is another reason for hiring him," Keith returned."Do I need to ask that scoundrel's permission before I engage a hand?"
“I guess not," Lagley agreed. "It's yore ranch, but don't say I didn't warn yu. Why, this hombre might be one o' Satan's gang for all yu know.”
A deep crease furrowed the rancher's brow. "And so might you—for all I know," he said curtly. "I'm backing my judgment.”
He turned to go into the house and so missed the malignant glare of resentment which followed him.
The foreman's abrupt departure from the table spoiled no one's appetite, and the plump, red-faced cook was kept busy. Sudden paid him a compliment.
“Don't flatter him, Jim," Frosty begged. "He's improvin', but he's a long ways behind Black Sam yet."
“Which yu can't wonder, seem' I never had his experience," the cook said plaintively.
“What experience?" Frosty incautiously asked.
“Sam used to feed hawgs afore he come here," the man of pots and pans chuckled, and beat a hurried retreat into his own domain amid a storm of merriment and abuse.
The meal over, Frosty led the way outside, declining Lazy's invitation to play cards.
“Yo're ail broke an' two-cent poker ain't no game for a man," was how he put it.
“Which was why I asked yu," the other shot back.
Seated on the long bench in front of the bunkhouse the two cowboys smoked in silence for a while. Frosty commenced the conversation.
“What yu think o' the outfit?"
“Good bunch to get along with, I'd say."
“Shore, but—as I told yu—there's one or two—drawbacks."
“Bound to be," Sudden agreed, and his eyes crinkled a little at the corners. "The foreman's anxiety 'bout yu to-day warn't entirely due to affection."
“No, he don't like me—which is certainly amazin'," the young man grinned. "The amount o' sleep I've lost over that yu wouldn't believe."
“Yo're right, I wouldn't," Sudden said. "He concealed his joy at the sight o' me pretty well, too."
“Yeah, didn't like the 01' Man not consultin' him, I guess."
“Mebbe, but it's odd, seem' he promised me a job.”
Frosty's look of blank astonishment cried out for an explanation. When it had been given, the Double K man whistled, and remarked:
“Well, if yu ain't a tight-mouth. So yu got the drop, set him afoot, an' yo're surprised he ain't glad to see yu. What did yu expect—thanks?" His expression sobered. "Jokin' on one side, Jim, it was a bad break; he ain't the forgivin' sort."
“Yo're ruinin' my night's rest," was the facetious rejoinder. "What we doin' to-morrow?"
“Dunno, but I'll lay we have the rottenest an' riskiest work he can find.”
CHAPTER VI
Breakfast at the Double K was a serious business, and there was little of the gaiety which enlivened the evening meal. Its place was taken by the rattle of knives and forks and picturesque appeals to the badgered cook for the replenishment of quickly-emptied platters. A long day in the saddle had to be prepared for, and—as one jocularly expressed it, "Starvation is a horrible death, Cookie darlin'.”
The perspiring purveyor promptly countered with, "How many weeks d'yu expect to be away?”
Going to the corral for his horse, Sudden encountered Lagley.
“I wanted a word with yu," the foreman said. "So far, the cyards have come yore way; don't overplay 'em. I ain't the fella to nurse a grudge; an' if yu do yore work an' don't chatter, yu an' me'll git along fine."
“Suits me," the new hand replied.
Frosty, red-faced and profane, emerged from the corral leading a wiry, wicked-eyed dun pony. "C'mon, Cactus, ain't yu ever goin' to git any sense?" he panted. "One o' these bright mornin's I'll take an' bust yore slats in." He looked at Lagley. "What yu want me to do?"
“Yu an' Green ride the northern line. I was along there yestiddy an' it struck me cows was missin'."
“Right, git yore bronc, Jim," Frosty said, and as Sudden stepped forward, added, "Don't yu want yore rope?”
The reply was a low whistle, and instantly the big black separated itself from the milling band of horses. Sudden lifted down the top bar of the entrance, Nigger leapt lightly over the others and stood, thrusting a velvety muzzle forward for the customary biscuit.
“Trick horse, huh?" the foreman sneered.
“Yeah," its owner replied. "One of 'em is pretendin' to lose his footin' on a slope; yu did oughta see him do that.”
He cinched his saddle, got up, and sat watching the battle between Cactus and its master. "Want any help?" he asked solicitously.
Frosty did not, and said so, with emphasis. "This chunk o' mischief has gotta learn I'm boss," he gritted.
Presently he was ready and they loped away. The look Lagley sent after them was the reverse of pleasant. "An' I shore hope them fellas got my message," he muttered.
Turvey strolled up. "They make a fine pair, ridin' side by side, don't they?" he queried, his eyes full of malice.
“They'd be just as fine lyin' side by side," Lagley retorted.
Turvey's bent shoulders went up. "I don't give a damn either way, but I would like to find that black hess."
“An' be pitched into hell the first time yu straddled him."
“Don't think it, Steve; I ain't so easy got rid of," was the meaning reply.
The foreman scowled, saddled his own beast, and rode to the ranch-house to report the day's work he had set in motion.
“What have you done with the new man?" Keith enquired. "Sent him an' Homer to look at the northern boundary. We've bin losin' cattle there lately."
“Lately?" repeated the rancher scornfully. "You speak as if it were something new."
“That's the roughest part o' the range," Lagley reminded. "Steers are bound to stray."
“Especially with riders behind them—riders who are allowed a free hand."
“We lost one man an' had two others crippled out there," the foreman protested. "Yu ain't forgettin' that?"
“I am not likely to, with the bill still unpaid," Keith said bitterly.
Meanwhile, the two cowboys were heading steadily northwards. The first few miles, over the open, rolling grassland, were covered in silence. Then Frosty spoke.
“Didn't I tell yu we'd git the worst job?"
“What's the matter with it? Routin' out strays ain't so much."
“It is when there's a chance o' runnin' into hot lead any minute."
“How come?" Sudden demanded. "We'll be on our own range."
“yeah, but that scum in Hell City figure it belongs to them, an' act accordin'."
“Meanin'?"
“One of our boys—Tim Jellis—was wiped out an' two more wounded less'n three months back doin' the very thing we've bin sent to do," Frosty explained. "Rustlers? Yeah, an' wearin' the devil's own brand."
“Why not build a line-house an' have a coupla men stay out there allatime?"
“We tried it, but the durned place catched fire an' burned down—green wood at that.”
They had left the open range and were traversing a sandy waste broken only by patches of scrub and bunchgrass. In front of them the ground rose gradually towards a range of barren hills, the slopes of which were gashed by steep-sided gorges. Sagebrush, mesquite, and an occasional juniper were the only trees; here and there a giant cactus flung wide its arms as though to bar their progress. Frosty pointed to the grey, forbidding heights ahead of them.
“Somewheres in there is Hell City," he informed.
“Too far for a visit?"
“No, too dangerous," was the reply. "Also, we got work to d Hullo, what's that mean?”
Sudden followed the levelled finger; less than a mile away a tiny column of smoke was spiralling into the clear air, and then came a faint bellow.
“Damnation!" Frosty swore. "They're swappin' brands right under our noses. C'mon.”
He dragged his Winchester from the sheath under the fender of his saddle, and was about to spur his pony when Sudden interposed:
“Wait, we'll take a peek at these hombres first; that smoke might be there for us to see.”
Crouching in their saddles and keeping, when possible, under cover of the scrub, they rode to within a couple of hundred yards of the tell-tale fire. Here they left the horses and stole forward on foot until they reached the mouth of a shallow gully, the wall on one side of which afforded an excellent view. One glance told the story. Two riders were holding a bunch of twenty steers, from' which a third was clumsily roping and dragging one at a time to the fire, where another pair awaited it. One of these, when the animal had been thrown, tied it, and his companion, drawing a glowing iron from the embers, bent over the prostrate beast. The pungent smell of burning hair assailed the nostrils of the watchers.
“This is a trap we mighty near ran our fool heads right into," Sudden said. "On'y them two at the fire know anythin' 'bout cattle. They were waitin' for us, an' where's the other jasper?”
He pointed to three saddled ponies standing apart. The spiteful crack of a rifle, the bullet from which perforated the crown of his hat, provided the answer. A spreading puff of smoke from the higher ground on the other side of the gullycompleted their information. Sudden flattened himself behind a slight upward slope and swore when a second shot hummed past his ears.
“Hell's bells, he's above us an' we can't see him," he said. "But we can stop the brand-blottin'.”
He pressed the trigger as he spoke and the man with the iron spun round and dropped. His companion was already running when Frosty fired and whooped when the target stumbled and pitched headlong, to move no more. At the first shot, the three with the herd abandoned their charge and spurred their mounts up the gully, leaving their look-out to fend for himself. A steady stream of lead showed that he was still attending to business.
“He's behind that big stone on the point," Sudden decided. "First, we'll set him afoot." A thought came. "Any chance o' them others circlin' round an' takin' a hand in the game?"
“Not one," Frosty assured. "Thisyer gorge is 'bout three mile long an' the sides is straight up.”
A couple of bullets into the ground beneath their feet sent the ponies careering wildly out across the plain, and the hidden rustler expressed his opinion of the proceeding with a miniature hurricane of lead which tore up the ground all round the cowboys.
“I'm suspectin' he ain't fond o' walkin'." Sudden remarked, adding grimly, "Well, mebbe he won't have any to do. See that rock to the right o' the one he's usin'? The face slopes back towards him an' there's just a chance a slug might angle off in his direction. Let's try her out.”
They made the experiment, painstakingly bespattering the stone Sudden had pointed out. The unknown replied vigorously, but the two men had dug themselves in and he did no damage. From time to time, a jeering shout commented upon what the utterer evidently regarded as poor marksmanship. Then one of these was cut short by an oath and the bombardment from the boulder ceased. For a while they waited, suspecting a ruse, and then Sudden cautiously pushed his empty hat into sight; no shot came.
“We might 'a' got him, or mebbe he's slipped away," he said. He rose to his feet and nothing happened. "We'll take a look.”
They descended to the floor of the gully, where the body of the brand-blotter sprawled unnaturally by the fire, the running-iron still clutched in his hand. A few yards away was his assistant, and both had ceased to breathe. They were Mexicans of the peon class, and on the breast of each was Satan's sign, the little red imp. Sudden drew his knife and cut the stitches which secured the symbol.
“Get the other," he told Frosty. "Might come in useful one time.”
They climbed laboriously to the top of the bluff, only to find the boulder which had sheltered the enemy deserted. The ground behind it was littered with cigarette stubs and empty shells, while the other stone was splashed with the marks of their bullets.
“We scared him out, anyways," Frosty decided.
Sudden was staring at a red stain some paces away; there were others further on, with zigzagging footprints and an uneven furrow which might well have been made by a trailed rifle-butt. He did not follow them.
They went down, fetched their horses, and rounded up the steers, on four of which the brand had already been changed.

Frosty surveyed them with lifted eyebrows. Diamond," he said. "That's odd."
“Shore is," Sudden agreed gravely. "But why?”
His friend laughed. "We fit so well together that I keep forgettin' yo're a stranger," he explained. "Yu see, there is a Twin Diamond range, an' part of it runs cheek by jowl with our'n south-west o' here. The odd thing is that the owner, Martin Merry, is mighty fond o' Keith, an' the least likely to rustle his cattle."
“It could be an attempt to make trouble atween 'em," Sudden surmised, and pointed to one of the altered brands. "Pretty raw work; even when it's healed up, a kid could see it had been tampered with."
“I reckon yu got it," Frosty assented. "Merry's cows never stray this far—the feed is poor—an' his men would have to do some explainin'. What's our move?"
“Drive these four to the Twin Diamond an' let 'em see we ain't romancin'. That'll put a crimp in the game.”
The idea seemed sound, and having bunched the four animals which had been operated upon, and sent the others scampering into the open, they set out. To a question about burying the dead rustlers, Sudden replied harshly, "D'yu reckon they'd 'a' done that for us? Besides, buzzards has to live.”
One look at the stern face and Frosty said no more. Brief as was their acquaintance, he had already divined that here was a man who, though not much older than himself in years, was immeasurably so in experience. Hazing their little herd ahead of them they rode in silence for a while. Then Sudden spoke:
“Them three skunks who skedaddled were Scar an' two o' the fellas I flung outa Black Sam's. How did they know I was comin' here?"
“They couldn't have—it just happened so," the other replied. "Though it is claimed that Satan hombre is a wizard.”
Sudden grinned in derision. "Yu ain't believin' it, are yu?"
“Mebbe not, but it's amazin' the things he finds out," was the dubious answer, and then, "Why, damn it, nobody 'mowed till we started out this mornin'."
“On'y the man who sent us," came the sardonic reminder. Frosty's eyes widened. "Oh, hell, Jim. I don't like Steve, but he wouldn't ..."
“Mebbe not, an' then again, lie might. Worth rememberin', anyways. What's Merry like?"
“Short, fat, an' got the easiest laugh I ever heard—might 'a' been made to fit his name. He's 'bout the on'y fella around here who can talk back to the Colonel, but when he scores yu he does it with a smile that takes the sting out. His outfit swears by him."
“That tells me plenty," Sudden said.
Two hours later they halted their charges in front of a long, squat timber edifice which was sadly in need of repair. Cracked, even broken, curtainless windows gaped at them, and in several places the roof quite evidently was a poor protection from the elements. The bunk-house, barns, and corrals were in little better shape. Frosty noted his companion's surprise.
“One o' these days the scrap-heap will tumble in an' Merry will crawl out'n the ruins an' just tell the boys to build another," he said. "No, there ain't a female on the premises, as yu might guess; he's got a Chink cook." He raised his voice in a cry of "Hello, the house!”
In response, a man nearly as broad as he was high, with a huge sombrero tilted back from his round, red face, came waddling out. His mouth split into a wide grin when he saw the visitors.
“Why, Frosty, what's fetched yu here?" he bellowed. "Light an' rest yore saddles.”
They got down and seated themselves on a bench by the ranch-house door. The cattle, tired by the long tramp, were contentedly cropping the sparse brown herbage. Frosty duly presented his companion. The rancher studied the young man in silence for a moment, and then, with twinlding eyes, remarked:
“Pleased to know yu, Green. Yu got the second best boss in the country; if he don't treat yu right, come an' see the best.”
The Double K puncher chuckled. "I told yu he was a modest fella, Jim," he remarked.
“Well, boys, spill the beans, or mebbe yore throats need irrigatin'," Merry said, and when Frosty promptly retorted that they did, he shouted, "Hi, Chang, there's a couple o' thirsty gents here; fetch a jug o' water.”
For a moment the cowboy's face fell, but resumed its grin when he saw that the water was accompanied by a bottle. They sampled the contents, and then Frosty told his story. Merry spoke only when it was ended.
“Good notion o' yores to bring 'em here. I'm obliged."
“Warn't mine—Jim thought o' that. He figured that if the rustlers were aimin' to put yu in wrong with Keith, that would crab the deal.”
The fat man nodded. "I'm obliged to both o' yu. If Green could rope an' throw one o' them cows ...”
He watched narrowly as the puncher stepped into his saddle and walked the horse towards the grazing brutes. At the moment they began to move, the black leapt forward, the rope circled through the air, the loop dropping neatly over the horns of the nearest steer. A flip of the lariat to the right and a swerve to the left by the horse threw the captive on its side and a turn of the rider's wrist sent a couple of coils along the rope which effectually snared the kicking hind legs. "Knows his job," the rancher remarked to his companion, as they stepped to where the victim of the cowboy's dexterity awaited them. "It ain't every wrastler can throw an' hobble from the saddle.”
One glance at the altered brand and Merry's laugh rang out. "Clever work," he said. "Even a tenderfoot could see that cow ain't wearin' its proper monogram, an' that's what they wanted. Tell Ken I'm buyin' these beasts—that'll save yu the trouble o' drivin' 'em back, an' put things straight.”
Leaving Sudden to release his prisoner, they returned to the ranch-house, for a thrown steer is apt to be resentful and has no fear of a man on foot.
“Hear about the stranger rough-housin' four o' them Hell City outlaws at Black Sam's?" Merry asked, and without waiting for an answer, "I sent word I'd like to see him, but he'd went, cuss it."
“Allasame, yu've got yore wish," Frosty grinned, his eyes on Sudden, who, having deftly freed and coiled his rope, smacked the outraged beast on the rump, and swung round to rejoin them.
“Yu tellin' me that's the fella?" the rancher demanded. "Well, I'll be tee-totally damned. So Ken got ahead o' me? What was his idea takin' on a stranger?"
“First off, he wanted to thank him, I expect," the other replied, and told how the trouble at Black Sam's had started.
Merry nodded, and when Sudden returned, said, "Green, it 'pears I'm more obliged to yu than I guessed. Miss Joan is a particular friend o' mine, an' if I hadn't been born so darned early, I'd be ha'ntin' the Double K pretty persistent. I ain't forgettin' what yu did for her, an' I'll be pleased to see yu here any time, which, o' course, goes for yu, too, Frosty.
Tell Ken to keep me posted. I'll bet that hell-hound in the hills is plannin' some devilment right now.”
On the way back to the Double K, Frosty was inquisitive. "What d'yu think of him?"
“He keeps good whisky," was all the answer.
CHAPTER VII
Hell City was difficult of access. A rough, narrow wagon-way, winding serpent-like among the foothills, ever climbing, and walled in by rock on one side and—towards the end —a precipice on the other, formed the only approach from the direction of Dugout. It terminated in a heavy gate of timber which was always guarded. Within was a kind of street running between vertical cliffs which bulged out and then curved in again, almost meeting. Here was another gate—the western entrance. In the stone walls of this oval an ancient people had fashioned a place to live. The present inhabitants had, in fact, adopted and adapted a Hopi Indian cliff-settlement. There were a few wooden buildings scattered about, among them a store and a saloon, but most of the newcomers were content with the caves they had found there, which required no more than the provision of door or window to make them habitable.
It was outside one of these that Scar and his two companions halted their tired mounts at the end of the ignominious retreat from the scene of the rustling. All wore a look of unease.
“Gotta report, I s'pose," the leader said.
“You bet," one of them retorted. "He'll find out, mebbe knows a'ready, like' he did that Dugout doin'."
“Who's to tell him?" Scar argued. "The blasted cowboys won't, the Greasers is cashed, an' Squint must be, or he'd 'a' showed up."
“He'll git wise, I tell you," the other persisted, "an' thenwhat? We've lost out an' there's no sense in makin' it wuss.”
“Daggs is right," the third man put in. "We gotta take our medicine."
“You said it, Coger," Scar replied. "Git ready for a stiff dose.”
They followed along a short tunnel in the rock and reached a door on which the leader rapped. It was thrown back by a creature who, in the half-light, appeared to be a mixture of man and beast. Not more than five feet in height, it possessed a barrel of a body set on stunted, inadequate legs, enormous shoulders, and abnormally long arms. The animal resemblance was increased by a face almost covered with shaggy hair from which a large nose protruded.
“Hello, Silver," Scar greeted. "We wanta see the Chief.”
The freak's mouth opened in a malicious grin, showing teeth like yellow fangs. "He's wantin' to see you," he said.
Apprehension was on their faces as they filed in. It was a spacious room, and despite the bare walls only partly concealed by gaudy Navajo blankets, and the two unglazed holes which served as windows, to them it represented luxury. Rich rugs in which the feet sank dotted the rock floor, costly articles of furniture were spread about, and on a chair covered with a great bearskin sat the owner of all this magnificence.
That he was young—well under thirty—was evident, notwithstanding the slitted, crimson velvet mask which veiled his face down to the supercilious, almost bloodless lips. Though wearing cowboy attire, his silken shirt, goatskin chaps, and high-heeled boots were of the finest quality. A pair of ivory-handled, silver-mounted Colts hung in a cartridge-studded belt round his middle. The men had entered with hats on, but one glance from the cold, washed-out blue eyes led to their furtive removal.
“So you failed again?" The voice was low, devoid of passion, yet menacing. Scar began a mumbling explanation but was not allowed to finish. "Don't trouble to lie—I know the details. The first time there were four of you; on this occasion, six. How strong do you have to be to beat one man?”
The gibe made them squirm. "There were two of 'em," Daggs corrected.
The Chief shrugged disdainfully. "You were three to one," he said. "Where's Squint?"
“Thought you knowed," Scar said hardily, and got a look which made him regret he had spoken.
“I do know, but I wanted to see what lying excuse you could find for scuttling away like scared cottontails," was the scathing retort. "Now listen: this fellow Green is not to be touched till I give permission—I have plans regarding him. You have blundered twice; a third time will be—the last. Silver, the door.”
Like whipped curs they slunk out and repaired to the hovel they shared in common. Here, sitting on his pallet-bed, they found Squint, who cursed them heartily for a set of cowards.
“What th' hell could we do?" Scar excused. "We was aimin' to swing round an' git behind 'em, but a chipmunk couldn't climb out'n that gully. Why didn't you keep under cover?"
“I did, you fool, but they started bouncin' bullets off'n a rock an' one got me in the thigh," Squint retorted irritably. "How d'you git here?" Coger asked.
“Ran into Silver—he toted me on his back. Gawd, he's strong that fella, an' can run an' climb like the bear-cat he is."
“So that's how the Chief knew," Scar remarked.
Squint bristled.
“If yo're meanin' I told him—"
“I ain't—you wouldn't be so dumb. Satan don't trust nobody, damn him, an' Silver was watchin'."
“Good for him—I'd never 'a' made it," Squint said. "All I want now is a peek at that Green hombre over the hind-sight of a gun."
“An' all you'll want arter that will be a wooden box to rot in," Scar told him. "The Chief has put the bars up on the gent."
“Sufferin' serpents ! why?"
“He didn't say—must 'a' forgot to, mebbe," was the ironical reply.
“Bars or no bars, I'm gettin' even for this," the wounded man growled, tapping his bandaged thigh.
Scar laughed harshly. "We shall shorely miss you, Squint.”
* When the two punchers returned to the Double K they found its owner in conversation with his foreman. Sudden fancied that the latter's brow darkened a little when they rode up, but he could not be sure. Frosty told the tale of the day's doings, merely giving the facts.
“They were putting Merry's brand on my cows?" Keith asked, when the cowboy concluded. "Why should they do that?"
“Jim figured it was to get yu in bad with the Twin Diamond."
“Pretty far-fetched reason, that," the foreman commented.
“Can you think of a better one?" his employer snapped. "What was Merry's view?"
“He agreed it was like enough, an' said for me to tell yu he's buyin' the cows," Frosty replied. "The brandin' was mighty careless."
“Did you know the men?"
“The two at the fire was Greasers, three more was in the ruckus at Sam's, Jim sez; we didn't see the other.”
The rancher pondered for a moment. "If it didn't seem impossible, one might think they were waiting for you."
“Shore looked thataway," Frosty said bluntly. "The fire was bound to be seen if anybody rode within miles.”
Lagley's laugh was scornful. "They claim Satan is a wizard, but I reckon he can't guess as good as that," he said. "Ain't but once in a while we ride that line.”
He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Keith whirled on him. "Is—that--so?" he said slowly. "No wonder I'm losing stock when you leave the door wide open for rustlers. Why don't you put up a board with `Welcome' on it?”
The foreman's hard face flushed beneath the tan at this savage sarcasm. "We ain't strong enough to fight Hell City," he said sullenly. "Though I'm bettin' we'll have to now." This with a baleful glare at the two punchers.
“If you are blaming these two men for to-day's work you can forget it," the Colonel said brusquely. "I am only sorry they couldn't exterminate them all. Green, I've something to say to you." He waited until the others had gone, and then, "What's your opinion of Lagley?"
“Ain't got one—yet," was the non-committal reply. "Some of the men don't like him."
“A popular foreman is either mighty good or mighty poor," Sudden stated, and changed the subject. "How many men does this Hell City jasper have?"
“Rumour says anything from thirty to fifty."
“Split the difference an' call it two score. Ain't it odd that out of all them, three at least should be the ones I tangled with?"
“True," Keith agreed. "I think you were expected. Well, probably Lagley is right, it means war." His face became set with a swift resolve. "Have you been told that this masked miscreant is my—son?"
“Yeah, by folk who don't believe it."
“The evidence leaves little doubt," the rancher replied, with icy calmness. "Even if it be so, the welfare of the community demands that he be brought to justice." The stern voice did not falter, but the gaunt, white face told what an effort the word had cost. It was some moments before he spoke again. "What do you propose to do?"
“It's his turn to move," the puncher pointed out. "Me an' Frosty will scout around like we did to-day; I want to get wise to the country.”
When he returned to the bunkhouse, he found it in a state of excitement over the defeat of the rustlers.
“Sorta levels up for poor ol' Tim," one said.
“Huh!" Lanky snorted. "A dozen Greasers wouldn't do that.”
The jubilation was not quite universal, several of the older men taking a pessimistic view of the matter. Turvey spoke plainly.
“Askin' for trouble, I'd say," was how he put it. "What's a few steers compared with a man's life?"
“How about that time yu shot a fella for tryin' to cheat yu out'n a measly ten dollars?" Frosty asked, recalling a story Turvey was fond of telling.
“That was different," the other defended.
“Yeah, the dollars was yourn, the steers is the 01' Man's," was the pointed reply.
“Yu kids think yu know it all, an' then some. When yu git yore growth ...”
Lazy headed off the impending quarrel. "What d'yu reckon Mister Satan will do?" he enquired of the company at large.
“Tuck his tail into his rump an' punch the breeze, pronto, o' course," Turvey sneered. "Me, I'd be scared to death to know Frosty was after my scalp.”
That young man shared in the laugh. "Yu ain't got no scalp, yu bald-headed ol' buzzard," he said genially.
Lagley had listened to the discussion in frowning silence. Now he spoke. "Green, yu'll ride the north line for a spell. I figure, after the fright yu've given 'em"—the sarcasm was pronounced—"one man'll be enough.”
Frosty started to open his mouth, but closed it again when he caught his friend's warning glance. Later, Sudden contrived to find the foreman alone.
“Oh, Lagley, I didn't say nothin' before the others, but the Colonel said for me an' Frosty to double-team it," he explained.
The foreman's eyes flashed. "O' course, if yo're afeard to go it alone—" he began.
Sudden laughed. "I'm shakin' in my shoes, but when the owner—Keith is that, I s'pose?—gives orders ..."
“They gotta be obeyed, huh, even if the foreman don't agree?"
“I wasn't sayin' that, but the hand the orders is given to has to carry 'em out. The foreman can argue—"
“Me argue with that bull-headed ol' fool?" Lagley savagely interrupted. "I got somethin' better to do. If he wants to run his damned ranch to hellangone ...”
He stalked angrily away, leaving the cowboy in a thoughtful mood.
CHAPTER VIII
The following morning found the friends on the scene of the previous day's encounter, which, Sudden now learned, was known as Coyote Canyon. The bodies had gone, but not far, as two newly made mounds of stones testified. The ashes of the fire had been covered with sand.
“Someone has tidied up," was Sudden's comment. "How far to Hell City from here?"
“ 'Bout eight mile, straight along the canyon," Frosty told him. "Thinkin' o' payin' a visit?"
“Not till I get an invite," was the smiling reply, and the other grinned too, never dreaming that the remark was meant.
Since their task was ostensibly the driving of strays from the stretches of scrub which clothed the foothills, they decided to separate. Two quick shots would be the signal for rejoining with the utmost speed. Frosty having departed eastwards, Sudden turned his horse's head in the opposite direction. For a mile or so, he threaded a way through clumps of thorny brush, forcing the few cattle he unearthed out on to the plain, and then turned abruptly to the north. A steady, devious climb along rocky, cactus-strewn defiles brought him at length to a lofty ledge of level ground, bare save for patches of grass, a sprinkling of gay flowers, and scattered groups of spruce and pine trees. On the far side of this expanse were more hills, with a break in the middle of them masked by forest growth. He was making towards this when the scream of a frightened horse dissipated the silence, and a noment later the animal came into view, galloping furiously hrough the boulders and brush which littered the approach o the pass.
“A woman!" the puncher ejaculated. "What the hell ...?" His question was soon answered; little more than a hundred paces behind, a long, lithe tawny form flashed in the sunlight as it leapt over an obstacle in pursuit of its prey. The dangling reins told that the rider had lost control of her mount; clinging desperately to the saddle-horn, she could only urge it on in the vain hope of outrunning the peril. But the spectator saw another danger of which she evidently knew nothing : crazed by terror, the pony was racing blindly for the edge of the plateau and a sheer drop of a thousand feet on to the jagged rocks below.
A word, and Nigger shot away to the right in an endeavour to intercept the fugitives, the mighty muscles bunching under the silken skin and transforming the animal into a black thunderbolt. A few tense moments at full speed and Sudden, standing in his stirrups, whirled his rope.
“Steady, boy," he warned, as the loop settled over the head of the runaway, and Nigger slowed down sufficiently to check the captive pony without throwing it. For a few more yards the maddened beast fought onwards, but the increasing drag of the rope and the choking effect of the tightening noose prevailed; it pulled up, spent and trembling, almost on the brink of the abyss.
One peril was past, but another still threatened. The mountain lion—doubtless made bold by hunger—was not content to be baulked of its booty and was preparing to spring when Sudden's bullet smashed into its brain. With a word to his horse, the puncher got down, stepped swiftly to the woman and lifted her limp form from the saddle.
“Everythin's right now, ma'am," he assured her. "How yu feelin'?"
“Damned queer,” was the surprising answer, as she subsided on a near-by stone. "What possessed my pony to jerk the reins from my hands and bolt like a mad thing?"
“A big cat was needin' a meal—badly, I guess," he told her, and, when she looked round fearfully, added, "He ain't needin' it no longer."
“So that was the shot," she said, and for a space was silent, studying him.
Through narrowed lids, he returned the scrutiny. She was young, about his own age, he estimated, and, in any company, would be adjudged a beautiful woman. Thick braided coils of ebon hair matched the velvety darkness of her slumbrous eyes; a straight nose, full lips, and rounded cheeks which the sun had but faintly tinted, formed a face which compelled admiration. She was tall, for a woman, and her smart riding-costume displayed her fine, well-built figure to perfection. Presently she smiled, showing white, even teeth.
“It just comes to me that I haven't thanked you for saving me from being devoured," she said. "But perhaps the lion would have preferred the pony.""
“I reckon not, if he'd any taste," Sudden said.
She smiled again at the compliment. "Why did you stop us before shooting the beast? Suppose you had missed ..."
“Mebbe it was a risk, but I didn't expect to miss.”
His gaze went involuntarily to the edge of the plateau; she rose and stepped towards it, only to come hurrying back, horror and contrition in her eyes.
“Forgive me, my friend," she cried. "You have saved me from a dreadful death, and I find fault. I did not know ..."
“Shucks," he smiled. "Nothin' to that, ma'am; yu may be able to help me one day."
“If that time ever comes, you may rely upon me," she said soberly. "But for now, I should like to know to whom I am indebted.”
He gave his name, adding that he was riding for Keith. "The Double K? Aren't you off your range a little?"
“I'm kind o' new, an' don't know the lay-out," he explained. "Took a notion to come up here an' look around.”
“Which was as well for me. Do you think my horse can be trusted to carry me home?"
“I reckon." He whistled, and Nigger trotted up, the other animal having perforce to follow. The woman's eyes swept over the black approvingly.
“Your own?" she asked, and when he nodded, "Take care of him, my friend; he's a temptation."
“Any stranger who tried to ride him would have a real interestin' time," the puncher told her.
He went to her pony, which was still wild-eyed and nervous, but when he had slipped the noose from its neck, soothed and spoken to it for a moment or two, it quietened down and allowed its mistress to mount.
“You seem to understand horses," she commented.
“I was raised among 'em," he said. "Like dawgs, they know their friends." He coiled his rope, and got into his own saddle. "An' where now?"
“I'm going to look for my hat—it fell off," she replied, but when he offered to help she shook her head. "You have done enough, and I shall remember, but we part here."
“For good?" he queried.
“Quien saber'" She smiled. "Fate, having brought us together so dramatically, must mean us to meet again.”
He clasped the firm, gloved hand she extended and turned his horse southwards. It was only when she had vanished among the trees that he remembered she had not told him her name—the brand on the pony was his only clue to her identity. Cursing himself for a bonehead, he retraced his steps to the plain, where he soon met Frosty.
“Thought I heard a shot," that young man greeted."'Yu did—ran into a mountain lion.
“Git him?"
“Yeah," Sudden replied. "Anybody own a B D iron around here?"
“No, an' we don't usually brand our lions neither," was the flippant answer.
“Nor yore jackasses—at least, I ain't noticed yu wearin' one," Sudden returned pleasantly.
It was some time later that, without even a warning chuckle, Frosty emitted a bellow of laughter which sent both their mounts into the air, and it was some moments before they could convince the startled animals that the end of the world had not arrived. Even Nigger, who would stand like a rock when a pistol was discharged by his ear, was not proof against that explosive shriek of merriment. When quiet had been restored, Sudden looked disgustedly at the cause of the trouble.
“What's the idea, yu snowy-pated pie-eater, tryin' to bust our necks thataway?" he demanded.
“I just remembered somethin'," the culprit spluttered, suppressing a second outburst with difficulty.
“Must be a helluva joke if yu've on'y just seen it."
“Shore is," his friend grinned. "Might them letters, B D, stand for `Bewitchin' Damsel'?" Getting no response, he went on, "She's a good-looker all right, but so is a cactus or a cougar an' they're safer to have truck with.”
Sudden spoke to his steed. "Don't yu never eat locoweed, ol' hoss, now yu see what it does. Here's a fella who looks a'most intelligent at times, an'—"
“Quit joshin', Jim," Frosty broke in. "B D means Belle Dalroy, an' her address is Hell City. Come clean.”
Whereupon Sudden told his adventure, which drew a long whistle from his companion. "She's reputed to be hand and glove with Satan an' as cold-blooded as a frawg," he said.
“She seemed very grateful; might be useful if ever we go visitin' there."
“If ever we go? Leave me out, cowboy; I'd as soon try the real place."
“Oh, I dunno; it'd be kind o' interestin'."
“Yeah, Scar an' his crew would make it that for yu.”
He got no reply; Sudden's mind was busy with the woman, wondering what had brought her to this refuge of the reckless. Was she, too, in hiding? It was more than possible, for with all her beauty, he had sensed a hardness which told of contacts with a world which had not been too kind. He became aware that Frosty was speaking.
“If I hear o' yu tryin' to go there alone, yu an' me'll take the floor together.”
At which Sudden laughed and was well content.
The guard at the entrance to Hell City did not keep Belle Dalroy waiting, the ponderous gate swinging back as she reached it. With a smile of thanks she passed through and rode to the Chief's quarters. Here again she encountered no difficulty; even before she knocked, the door opened. She passed the dwarf with a mere glance and failed to see the look of desire in the animal eyes.
The Chief was standing at one of the deep, curtained openings which did duty as windows, from which could be seen a considerable portion of the great basin. Less than a dozen miles distant, to the east, lay the settlement of Dugout. From the windows themselves, the cliff face fell, almost vertically, to the tree-tops a hundred feet below.
“Did you have a nice ride, Belle?" he asked.
“yes, and no," she replied. "I wish you wouldn't wear that hideous disguise when I come to visit you.”
Her petulance appeared to amuse him. "Hideous?" he repeated. "I think it rather intriguing, and—as I am tired' of telling you—I have made a vow. And it is useful to me; the unknown fascinates the ignorant and keeps them interested; you know, one can weary of even the most lovely things, and it is a theory of mine that if married couples wore masks there would be fewer unhappy unions.”
The quaint suggestion made her smile. "If I thought you were serious, Jeff, I would get one," she replied.
Instantly his humour changed. "I think I referred to married couples," he retorted crushingly, and laughed at the furious look the reminder evoked. "Ah, now you are angry—a beautiful wild-cat, who would use her claws—if she dared.”
The pale blue eyes challenged her; they had, at times, the curious quality of appearing to be dead, expressionless, as though made of stone. The girl was silent, held by the un-winking gaze of those lifeless orbs.
“Where did you ride?" he asked.
“South, through the gorges, to a high, flat-topped hill. I don't know the name."
“Battle Mesa," he told her. "Many years ago, the Hopi Indian tribe which dwelt in these commodious but somewhat incomplete apartments was almost exterminated there by Apaches—hence the name. Foolish of them to fight in the open—this rock stronghold is impregnable."
“You are very sure of yourself, Jeff, but one day the Governor will move," she said.
“When he does I shall know of it, and all his plans," he boasted. "You do not believe me. Listen: didn't I warn you that the mountain lion could be dangerous? Well, you know now that it is so. But for the advent of a stranger the coyotes would be wrangling over your broken bones at the foot of the Mesa cliff."
“You saw?" she cried in amazement.
“I have not been out of this place," he replied. "Yet I watched your pony, crazy with fear, carrying you to destruction. Luckily, a tall, dark cowboy, on a black horse, arrived in time to rope your mount and shoot the beast pursuing you. A capable fellow, that Mister Green, of the Double K.”
The completeness of his information struck her dumb. She did not doubt him, for she knew how seldom he went abroad. It was incredible—and disturbing.
“I trust you did not tell him anything about yourself?" he continued.
“You should know," she answered.
“I do," he said quietly. "You even refused his escort, which was wise. I only asked--"
“To see if I would lie to you," she cut in passionately. "Precisely," he confessed. "I have faith in none, save, perhaps, Silver, who would die rather than betray me.”
“A mere brute."
“True, but one who, at a word from me, would tear you to shreds," he replied. "Now, I must find a way to thank this man who has put me in his debt." The sneering smile expressed anything but gratitude. "In future, you must not ride alone—it is too dangerous."
“Life here is so damned dull, Jeff," she urged. "One might as well be—"
“In a penitentiary, were you about to say?" he enquired icily.
The blood left her cheeks and she said no more.
CHAPTER IX
A week passed and life on the Double K ranch pursued the even tenor of its way. The two punchers continued to patrol the northern boundary, but encountered no further sign of rustlers. Twice Sudden climbed again to Battle Mesa. His explanation to his companion—received with profane disbelief—was that the lady might give information of use when it came to an open clash with Hell City.
“Just wastin' yore time," Frosty said. "If she's Satan's woman, she'll be talkin' on his side; yu'll on'y get lies.”
“Dessay yo're right, for once," the other conceded. "Allasame, she could let slip a pointer, unmeanin'.”
A small discovery puzzled Sudden. Rummaging in his. war-bag one evening, he found that something was missing. This was a roughly printed notice offering the sum of five hundred dollars for the capture of—himself, wanted for robbery and murder. Though it had been issued some years earlier, the descriptions both of man and horse were sufficiently near to make recognition almost inevitable. It bore the name of the sheriff of Fourways, Texas. Sudden had brought it for a definite purpose, and he wished to use it in his own way. He went at once to the ranch-house.
“Well, Green, what's the trouble?" his employer asked. "None a-tall, seh—yet," Sudden replied, adding, "Yu hired me in the dark."
“I backed my judgment."
“Yeah, an' I'm askin' yu to keep on doin' that, no matter what tale comes to yu. Mebbe yu'll be shown what 'pears to be, an' is, certain proof, but I want yu to remember I'm playin' straight with yu, right to the end o' the game.”
The rancher sat silent, considering the maker of this odd request, but he could read nothing in the lean, tanned, immobile face. From the first he had taken to this competent-looking stranger, instinct with youth yet moulded by experience into a man. Had his own son been of this type ..
He dismissed the thought with a gesture of impatience.
“This is all very mysterious, Green," he said.
“I'm askin' a whole lot, seh," the puncher admitted.
“Very well," Keith said. "After all, a person's past is no concern of other folks, except perhaps—a sheriff's.”
Sudden was not to be drawn. "I'm thankin' yu, seh.”
From his seat on the verandah the Colonel watched his visitor return to the bunkhouse, moving with a long swinging stride which told of supple joints and perfectly coordinating muscles.
“He moves like a cougar," he murmured. "Wonder what he's done? Doesn't look a desperate character, but ..." The gravel crunched as the foreman came hurrying up. "Anything to report, Steve?"
“Betcha life," Lagley replied triumphantly. "That fella vu took on, who calls hisself Green, dropped this. Might interest yu.”
The rancher read the damning document slowly. "The descriptions arc certainly similar, but that may be just a coincidence," he said.
“What's he totin' it around for, then?"
“As a curiosity, perhaps. If it really concerned himself, I imagine he would have destroyed it."
“Oh, these killers have their pride," Lagley fleered. "As for it bein' him, there ain't no doubt; Turvey was in Texas 'bout the time this hombre was raisin' hell there, an' had to skip 'cause things got too lively. No, he never seen him, but afriend o' his was rubbed out tryin' to stop this Sudden when he made a getaway from San Antonio, with a sheriff's posse behind him.”
Keith deliberated. This was the tale he had been warned might come to him. The new hand had discovered his loss and acted promptly; that was the kind of man he wanted. "What do you suppose brought him here?" was his question.
“Headed for Hell City, I'd say," the foreman replied. "Then he runs into trouble with Roden an' figures it ain't goin' to make him over-welcome there, so when yu push a job at him he naturally jumps at it."
“Admirably reasoned."
“An' yu can add that Mister Satan would be damn glad to put on his pay-roll a fella already on yourn.”
-
“That seems possible."
“Shore as death," the other rejoined. "Point is, what yu goin' to do? Me, I'd boot him off'n the ranch."
“Having first obtained his permission, of course," the Colonel said drily. "No, if he's the man you claim, he's dangerous, and it would be poor policy to present him to the enemy. Here, we can keep an eye on his activities. Do the men know?"
“I ain't told nobody, but Turvey may have talked."
“If so, it can't be helped. Give Green to understand that his past doesn't matter, and especially, that I am ignorant of it. Keep him tied to Homer—I think that lad is loyal, and we shall have news of any treachery."
“Well, yo're the boss, but it's takin' a devil of a risk," Lagley grimaced.
For some time after the foreman had departed, Keith sat in the gathering gloom, chewing at the butt of his cigar, thinking the situation over. He could not doubt what he had heard, for Green himself had admitted that the tale would be true. The puzzling point was the presence of a notorlous outlaw, presumably fleeing from justice, in that part of the country, if it were not to seek sanctuary in Hell City. Texas was a long way off, but other offences might have been committed since, perhaps in Arizona, necessitating a hiding-place.
“It certainly seems that Steve must be right," he mused aloud. "All the same, I don't believe it."
“Don't believe what, yu ol' slave-owner?" boomed a big voice from a few yards distant. "That the North beat the South? Well, they did; I was there, an' seen it.”
Keith stood up. "Hello, Martin, I hear you've been rustling some of my cows," he retaliated. "Come right in.”
“Druv over a-purpose to pay yu for 'em."
“Why?" the Double K man snorted. "You and your damned Yankee Government didn't mind stealing my niggers, so—”
A slim form slipped from the lighted window which led on to the verandah. "If you two are going to fight the Civil War all over again, supper will be ruined," Joan said. "Good evening, Mister Merry; I fancied I recognized your voice."
“Yu know darned well there ain't another like it in Arizony," the visitor responded, and shook a warning finger at her. "Don't yu go gettin' sarcastic—one in yore family is a-plenty. An' yu needn't to `mister' me neither, just because yu got a good-lookin' new rider; he ain't half the man I am, anyways."
“Just about, I should guess," she dimpled, with a calculating glance at the other's squat bulk, "but he's more—distributed."
“Yu sassy young chipmunk—”
The voice of the host intervened. "Stop wrangling, you--infants; I'm hungry. And Joan, you'd better hear what I have just learned before you decide to fall in love with Green."
“I haven't the remotest intention of doing so," she laughed. "It would break Martin's heart."
“Shore would," the fat man agreed. "I'd have to shoot him up, an' I'm admittin' that's a task I wouldn't fancy.”
“You'll fancy it less presently," Keith said sardonically. During the meal, he told his news. The Twin Diamond owner nodded his head, as though not surprised.
“A gunman, huh?" he commented. "Guessed he warn't just an ornery cow-punch. Sudden! Seem to have heard of him some time, but ... What arc yu goin' to do, Ken?”
“Watch him," the rancher replied, "an' if he's straight, use him to clean up that den of infamy in the hills." Merry looked at the girl, whose face was now pale; he knew of what she was thinking. His own expression belied his name.
“A clean-up means on'y one thing to such a man," he stated. "Does he know about—Jeff?”
Keith's aristocratic features might have been carved in white marble. "Yes," he said, in a cold, passionless tone which effectually closed the subject.
In the bunkhouse, Sudden soon sensed an air of restraint in regard to himself. He caught some of the outfit eyeing him furtively, and, while no one deliberately avoided him, even the men he knew best appeared to be afflicted with a feeling of awkwardness utterly foreign to their care-free souls. Evidently the purloiner of the placard had lost no time in making use of it. Frosty was not there, having gone to Dugout, and Sudden speculated, rather bitterly, whether the new friendship would stand the strain. Presently the foreman threw back the door and called him outside.
“They figure I'm goin' to be fired," he reflected.
Lagley went to the point at once. "The 01' Man sent for me," he began. "Someone has told him that yo're a Texas outlaw named Quick, no, that ain't it—Sudden—knowed it was somethin' to do with speed. He's mighty sore, said for me to give yu yore time, pronto.”
The darkness hid the cowboy's smile; he knew the man was lying, and had his answer ready. In an aggrieved tone, he said: "So that's his sort? All right, I'll take the trail straight away; Black Sam'll put me up.”
This, as he had expected, was not to Lagley's liking. "Hold on," he cried. "Hell, they got yu named right. I spoke up for yu—told Ken he was doin' a damn-fool thing, seein' yo're the kind o' fella we can use. He give in—usually does, when I stand up to him," he concluded boastfully.
“Why, that's mighty good o' yu, Steve. Who put him wise?"
“I dunno; all he said was that one o' the boys reckernized yu, an' that don't tell much—we git 'em from all over.”
Sudden nodded. "I'm obliged to yu. I warn't honin' to travel; this is a good ranch."
“It would be a better one if young Jeff was in charge," the foreman said meaningly. "Some of us would like to see it. Keith has changed a lot of late; goin' loco, I'd say. If anythin' happened to him, well, I don't fancy bein' bossed by a gal."
“Wouldn't suit me neither," Sudden replied. "Yu figure the boy ain't such a hard case, huh?"
“Oh, he's tough all right, an' yu can't wonder. But he's a swell leader an'—generous. I ain't askin' yu to take my word; go see for yoreself.”
The puncher laughed grimly. "I guess I wouldn't be very popular in Hell City."
“That needn't to worry yu. If yo're there to see him, nobody will dare cock an eye at yu; he's got the whole b'ilin' waitin' on his word."
“Yu seem to know him."
“Know him?" Lagley repeated. "Shore I do, since he was a pup; worked with him on the range, an' hope to again. Now, see here, Green, I didn't cotton to yu right off—mebbe it was that trick yu played when we first met, but a fella's a fool if he can't change his mind for good reason. I guess we understand one another better now. Think over what I've said, an' if yu wanta see Satan, I can fix it. Yu sabe?”
Sudden did. He had learned what he wanted—that the foreman was a traitor, willing to double-cross his employer, and that he and others of the outfit were already planning to put the son in the father's place. The idea of Lagley interceding with Keith on his behalf amused him; either he was making the best of what he regarded as a bad job, or setting a trap for a man he did not like.
“An' that man is goin' to walk right into it," he told himself. "But not with his eyes shut, Mister Steve.”
When he returned to the bunkhouse, he found the atmosphere altered, evidently the foreman had been talking. Genial looks greeted him from all save one—Turvey's warped, malignant mind retained its rancour despite the instructions he had received.
“I'm told yu come from Texas, Green," he said, in his high-pitched, reedy voice. "A fine country."
“Shore is," Sudden replied, and waited.
“Over-run with sheriffs, though—fair lousy with 'em," the other went on.
Sudden smiled sweetly. "Well now, I was wonderin' why yu didn't stay.”
A ripple of laughter proclaimed that he had scored and Turvey's expression was not pretty.
“Who told yu I ever was there?" he grated.
“Why, yu seemed to know the place," Sudden retorted, and shot a shaft at a venture, "Didn't meet up with Rogue's Riders, I s'pose?”
He saw the man's eyes flicker, but the denial came promptly. "Never heard of 'em," and the sneer, "Friends o' yourn?"
“I knew Rogue," was the quiet reply. "He was as crooked as they make 'em, but he played straight with those who trusted him. I've met worse men, an' how that fella could use a six-gun!”
Turvey laughed scornfully. "Rogue shoot?" he jeered. "Why, he couldn't hit a barn 'less he was inside it.”
He saw the snare into which he had stumbled when Sudden said, "I expect yu !mowed him better than I did."
“I was told that—I never seen the man," he protested.
“Yu said yu hadn't heard of him," Lazy pointed out. Turvey scowled, but showed no desire to continue an argument in which he had very obviously been worsted.
For some time that night Sudden lay awake, trying to place this man who had apparently played a part in a page of his own past, but without success; after all, he had not seen all the members of Rogue's gang of bandits.
CHAPTER X
In the morning, on the pretence that he needed another shirt, Sudden again searched his belongings, but the telltale notice was not there. Either the thief had destroyed, or could find another use for it. The circumstance did not worry him; he had a shrewd suspicion it would be put to the purpose he had intended. On his way to the corral, the rancher stopped him.
“You and Homer get along all right?" he asked. "Good, I've told Steve you are to work together."
“I'm thankin' yu," the puncher replied.
As he threw the saddle on Nigger, and tightened the cinches, he was puzzling over Keith's attitude, unburdening himself to his four-footed friend.
“Either Steve was lyin' complete, or the 01 Man is playin' ignorant, Nig," he muttered. "The on'y certain thing is they ain't trustin' me; Frosty is to keep cases. Wonder where the chucklehead has got to?"
“Stick 'em up !" hissed a low voice, and something hard was jammed in the small of his back.
Sudden froze for an instant, and then, with lightning speed, whirled on the balls of his feet and flung himself on the man who had cat-footed up behind him. They went to the ground together, Sudden on top, but at once he was erect again, brushing the dust from his clothes.
“yu perishin' idjut," he said. "I might 'a' broke yore fool neck.”
Frosty rose also, filled his depleted lungs, and spoke feelingly. "Namin' yu `Sudden' was shorely an inspiration."
“So yu know?"
“All of us knows—Turvey, for once, was plenty chatter-some."
“Was it him put Keith wise?"
“Dunno, but if he did, why ain't yu been sent packin'?”
“Mebbe they'd rather have me here than in Hell City.”
“Which would be sound reasonin'. Let's go.”
For several miles nothing was said, but Sudden was conscious that his companion was covertly observing him. Presently the boy blurted out: "Jim, I just can't believe it; vu don't seem that sort o' man.”
Sudden divined his thoughts. To be a famous gunman was one thing, and murder for money was another. Moved by an impulse he did not attempt to analyse he told the story of his notorious nickname.' Charged with a crime of which he :new nothing, forced to fight to free his neck from the noose, hunted like a beast of prey and driven to take refuge with the type of outcast the world had made him. Baldly, briefly, the f acts were stated.
“I ain't squealin'—a man has to play the cyards he gets," he said in conclusion, "but I reckoned yu'd a right to be told, case yu—"
“Forget it," Frosty said gruffly. "I'm proud to know yu. I figure yu can't choose yore friends—either yu like a fella or vu don't, that's all there is to it. Luck has played yu some scurvy tricks, Jim. Can I tell the boys?"
“No, keep it behind yore teeth—I ain't carin' what the others think—an' there's another reason to that. I'm told that some o' the outfit would like to see Jeff ownin' the ranch. Yu one of'em?”
Frosty shook his head. "Ken Keith hired me, an' that goes for most of us," he said. "Mebbe the 01' Man's rasp of a ongue has roughed up a few o' the older men.”
Soon afterwards they separated, riding in opposite directions. Sudden had said nothing of the foreman's proposal. He believed that Homer could be trusted, but he was playing in a desperate game and dared not add to the risks. Also, he wanted to learn if he was watched. So he kept under cover, weaving his way through thickets of tall grass, thorn and mesquite.
Presently the clink of iron against stone sounded faintly. Forcing his mount further into the undergrowth, he waited, a bitter sneer on his lips; his "friend" was spying upon him. To his amazement, however, the rider who came into view was Lagley, sitting slackly in his saddle, and with no attempt at concealment. He was apparently heading for Coyote Canyon, and, after a mental apology to Frosty, Sudden decided to follow.
“Fly at it, Steve," he grinned. "I never did like advertisin' myself”
As he had surmised, the foreman turned into the canyon and proceeded along it at a leisurely pace. Sudden, at a safe distance in the rear, kept him in sight. At the end of the gully the ground sloped up to a little forest of dwarf pines and continued to rise until a scrub-covered level was reached. Here the cowboy lost his quarry but the whinny of a horse from a black blob of brush told him that Lagley could not be far away Leaving Nigger, he circled the spot and found a faint trail.
Stepping lightly as an Indian, he moved slowly forward until he reached a small cleared space at one side of which the foreman's pony was tied to a shrub. The dim light which filtered through the foliage overhead enabled him to see that Lagley was not there, and an opening in the ground suggested the reason. Knotted round a near-by tree was a lariat, the end of which vanished in the hole. Sudden peered down but could see nothing but a kind of cave, only barely visible. It was but a drop of a dozen feet, and the rope made descent simple.
He now found himself in a large, irregularly shaped room, - !lowed out of the living rock. The uneven floor was littered rubble and at one side the wall was pierced by a tunnel orifice through which came a diffused daylight. Searching around, he discovered another opening, with a rude ladder leading to a lower chamber. He went down, to find it similar in every respect to the one he had left, even to a second ladder. He was about to descend this when an indistinct mutter of voices warned him that it might not be wise. Instead, he crawled along the tunnel-like opening and peeped out. Below was a kind of street, with rock walls on both sides pitted with holes identical with the one he was using. On the ground level these were larger, and in some cases, had rough doors fitted to them. Even as he watched, the foreman emerged, crossed the street, and disappeared through one on the far side; he had the familiar red badge pinned on his breast.
Having seen enough, Sudden returned to where he had left his horse. This must be Hell City, and he had guessed Lagley's errand correctly; the stolen placard would shortly be in the possession of the chief of this outlaw community. Since he had brought it with that object, he was well content. The more so as he had lighted upon what seemed to be a private means of entering or leaving the place; no doubt :here was a man on guard below, but ... The puncher was not one to ford a river before he came to it.
The Double K foreman found the man he had come to see alone, save for the loutish attendant hovering in the background. The red mask made the stony eyes paler than ever; they always gave Lagley an uncomfortable feeling. The boy he used to know had eyes of the same colour, but they werealive, mirthful, unless he was angered. Lae bandit nodded negligently to a seat.
“What brings you?" he enquired.
“Yore business, o' course," the visitor replied. "Have a good look at that.”
Satan unfolded the stolen placard and read it. "Well, are you suggesting I should send to Texas for him? Too much trouble, my friend, Besides, he'll drift in, sooner or later."
“Make it sooner," Lagley said. "He's here a'ready.”
The other straightened in his seat. "And I was not told?" he cried. "By Christmas, I'll—"
“Hold yore hosses, Jeff; nobody knows but me. He calls hisself Green, an' he's ridin' for—us."
“That fellow?" Satan said coolly. "Well?"
“He's useful—look how he handled Scar's crew, an' it was him an' Homer busted up that brandin' play. The 01' Man is stuck on him, which is another reason for ropin' him in."
“Have you sounded him?"
“Kind of," Lagley replied. "He didn't jump at it—ain't the sort—but I figure yu could fix him."
“What's he done to you?”
Under the scrutiny of those staring eyes the foreman shifted uncomfortably; he had the feeling that his inmost thoughts were being dragged out.
“I got nothin' agin him," he protested.
“He may come to see me—if he has the nerve.”
Lagley essayed a grin. "That'll fetch him, but he's gotta be handled with gloves—he ain't no common roughneck."
“I shall deal with him as I think fit," came the snub. "By the way, I want more three-year-olds; arrange that some are —available." He threw some bills on the table. "There's your pay; see that you continue to earn it.”
The foreman picked up the money and would have given something for the courage to fling it in the face of the master who treated him so cavalierly, but self-interest and a desire to we both forbade it. Silver, with a smirk which uncovered his usks, showed him out, and then returned with his great shoulders shaking.
“What's amusing you, Silver?" the masked man asked. "They's all the same, Chief," rumbled the deep voice. 'Come in, steppin' high, with their heads up, an' slinks out ails tucked in. Never seen the fella could out-face you. Dunno how you do it.”
The thin lips curved in a gratified smile. "The ability to rule is born in a man," Satan said. "I have the gift. Tomorrow, you shall see me tame this gunfighter.”
But the morrow brought no Sudden to Hell City. The foreman delivered the message, not quite in the condescending form in which it had been given—"He'll be glad to meetcha," was how he put it—and Sudden had received it omewhat nonchalantly.
“I'll chew it over. Mebbe drop in one day."
“Don't leave it too long," Lagley warned. "He ain't the patient kind.”
He got a look he could not put a meaning to. "I'm a bit short on patience myself," the puncher replied. "Also, I ain't kow-towin' to any road-agent who's afeard to show his face."
“Wait till yu see him; yu'll talk different."
“P'raps, but first he's gotta wait till he sees me," Sudden retorted. "I'll choose my own time.”
So it came about that several days passed before the black horse carried him along the narrow causeway which wound through the foothills, and, rising with increasing steepness, led to the ponderous portal of Hell City. Approaching it, one could not help being struck by the natural strength of its position. Many centuries back, the place must have been a pass through the crest of a high plateau, but some mighty convulsion had torn away the cliff on the right, leaving a mereshell of rock with a precipitous face mounting abruptly from the valley. This shell formed one side of the bandit stronghold.
Pacing slowly along, Sudden's eyes were busy, but he did not halt until he reached the gate. It opened at once, to disclose a burly-looking ruffian, holding a rifle levelled from the hip. The visitor knew that his approach must have been observed; he had already decided upon his attitude.
“Are you Sudden?" the man asked.
“Folks have found me all that," was the reply.
“I've had word to let you pass, but yo're after yore time; the Chief don't like to be kept waitin'."
“Is that so? Well, I don't like it neither, an' yo're keepin' both of us waitin'," Sudden reminded, adding sharply, "I'll have to tell him....”
With a look of alarm, the custodian fell back, his bluster gone. "No call to do that, stranger.”
His eyes followed the black as it stepped unhurriedly along the street; the rider appeared to have forgotten his haste. "A killer, shore enough," he muttered. "Had me covered, too, damn him." He slammed the gate and then chuckled. "The Chief'll take the starch out'n him, good an' plenty.”
The puncher paced on until he reached the point where he had seen Lagley vanish, and then pulled up beside a group of three men, slouch-hatted, unshaven, heavily armed, who surveyed him with insolent hostility.
“Where's yore boss hang out?" he asked brusquely.
All three scowled, but one jerked a thumb over his shoulder. They watched him dismount and trail the reins, their greedy eyes on the horse. He spoke again.
“Keep away from him or he'll kill yu, an' if he don't, I will.”
The faces of the men he warned grew darker, and one of them growled, "Who the devil are you to give us orders?"
“My name is `Sudden,' " the puncher rasped. "Put yore paws up, all o' vu, pronto !”
As he spat out the last word his own hands came up, a gun in each. Utterly taken by surprise, the ruffians dared not disobey; the jutting jaw and icy narrowed eyes were not those of a bluffer.
“Run, yu rats," came the harsh command, and a bullet tore the heel from the boot of the last to start.
The gunman waited until they had dived, like the vermin to which he had compared them, into one of the openings, and then hammered loudly on the door with the butt of a gun. It was opened immediately by Silver, who beckoned him in. The masked man was lolling in a big chair, reading, and took no notice when they entered. The puncher seated himself, pushed his hat back, and began to roll a cigarette. Presently the book was thrown aside.
“You are `Sudden'?"
“Men call me that," the cowboy replied. "I s'pose yo're `Satan'?"
“That's what I call myself. you have taken your time.”
“Why should I come a-runnin' when yu whistle?" Sudden said rudely. "I ain't nobody's dawg.”
The expressionless eyes did not alter, but he saw the mouth harden; the blow had gone home.
“I heard a shot outside. What happened?"
“Three o' yore scum got impudent; I had to educate 'em some."
“Was it to find me you came to Arizona?"
“Never heard o' yu till I got to Dugout—robber bands ain't no novelty in the West," Sudden said carelessly. "I was just travellin'—for my health.”
A flash of anger shone in the dull eyes but was gone in an instant. This truculent bully must be given a lesson, the masked man decided.
“I have something to show you," he announced. "When you have seen it, we will continued our conversation.”
At a sign, Silver dragged aside a rug and raised a trapdoor, disclosing a ladder. He went down, and Satan motioned his guest to follow. Little as he appreciated the courtesy, the puncher—conscious that he was between the two fires—could not but comply. A moment, and the third man had joined them. The chamber they were now in was a counterpart of the one they had left, save that it was unfurnished. Daylight, entering by a hole on one side, revealed only what Sudden took to be a pile of rags, until a deep groan apprised him that they covered a human form.
“Still alive," the masked man said, and there was a horrible satisfaction in his tone. "Good!"
“What's he done?" the visitor asked.
“you don't know the Governor of Arizona, I expect?" Satan replied, watching him keenly.
Sudden laughed. "Sheriffs is my limit thataway, so far."
“The Governor is good enough to take an interest in me," the hard voice went on. "He has already sent two spies. The first went back ready for burial, and this one will be returned in the same way when I have finished with him. Lagley said you could shoot. I am about to test your skill. Lift him, Silver.”
The dwarf raised the supine form as though it had been that of an infant, and the puncher needed all his iron control to suppress a cry of horror. Never had he seen a more dreadful sight. Through the tattered fragments of clothing the shrivelled frame of the poor wretch gleamed like the bleached bones of a skeleton, the limbs swinging loosely, as if tied on with string. Long, matted white hair and beard draped a pallid, blood-drained face, with sunken cheeks, glazed eyes, and drooling lips.
Sudden schooled his features to an expression of callous indifference; he had found Dolver—too late; the man was dying; he might live for days, enduring unspeakable agony, but there was no hope. He fought an impulse to shoot down the devil who now stood, gloating over his handiwork, but it was Keith's son, and to slay the leader only would but make way for another. Even if he got out of Hell City alive—which was doubtful—his work would be still to do. In a voice he hardly recognized, he asked:
“What's wrong with his arms an' legs?"
“Broken at the knees and elbows—it saves the trouble of bonds," the monster explained. "How I wish the Governor could see him.”
He gave an order and Silver, supporting his burden easily with his left arm, gripped the lolling head with his enormous other paw and held it upright, as in a vice.
“you have heard of dying by inches," Satan said coolly. "This man is dying by fractions of an inch. You see that groove extending from the forehead back over the scalp? Well, every day I deepen it the smallest shade by a bullet. Eventually, I shall touch the brain, and then ...”
Into the piteous eyes of the prisoner, near blind with pain, came a spark of life, and from the mumbling lips a weak wail. "For God's sake, kill me.”
The masked man laughed hideously. "Always the same prayer," he gibed, and finished with a blasphemy.
Stepping back several paces, he drew a pistol, aimed and fired. The shot drew a despairing moan from the victim, and Sudden could see the faintest trickle of blood from the groove. The marksman looked at him triumphantly.
“That's shooting, my gun-slinging friend," he sneered.
The puncher did not appear impressed. "Fair," he admitted. "But if that hombre was fit an' had a forty-five in his fist ..."
“Can you equal it?""Shore, firin' at a fixed mark is dead easy."
“Prove it," the other snarled.
Sudden shrugged; this was the invitation for which he had been angling. Drawing one of his guns, he raised it slowly, took careful aim, and fired. The bullet struck an inch below the groove and Dolver's head slipped from the dwarf's grasp and fell forward. For one second, the bandit could not believe what he saw, and then: "you clumsy fool, you've killed him," he cried, almost beside himself with rage. "I've a mind to...”
Apparently the visitor was too chagrined to resent either the epithet or the threat.
“Which I'm allowin' it was a poor shot," he said dejectedly. "Allus do forget that this gun throws a mite low. yu certainly can shoot, mister.”
The humility and flattery restored the masked man to his normal state of imperturbability. "My followers call me `Chief,' " he pointed out.
“Suits me, but I ain't one of 'em yet. Let's get out'n here an' talk it over—corpses ain't the best o' company.”
Leaving the man whom Sudden, at the risk of his own life, had mercifully released from horrible torment, lying on the floor of his prison, they returned to the upper room.
“What yu want I should do?" the puncher asked. "Rustle some cows for yu?”
Satan looked at him. Was the fellow really as stupid as he seemed to be—a mere creature of brawn without brain? Even so, he might be useful.
“The rustling is a small matter, done to annoy Keith," he explained. "I want to make him desperate, force him to fight, and then—I'll kill him.”
The last three words were spoken with incredible ferocity, hissed through shut teeth.
“It is said he's yore father," Sudden reminded.
“No, he disowned me, said I wasn't fit to bear his name, and that he wished never to see my face again. Well, I have acquired another name and concealed my face, but, by Christmas, he shan't rob me of my inheritance. Now do you understand?"
“Shore," was the reply. "It's a good range.”
This fatuous answer produced a further probing regard, but the speaker's features were wooden. The bandit nodded.
“Since we understand one another, get back to it," he said. "Lagley will give you my orders. Remember, if you play false, I shall know, and—you have seen how I deal with those who offend me.”
The visitor made an evident effort to regain his assurance. "Threats don't scare me none whatever," he boasted. "Keep 'em for those they may. So long.”
With an air of insolent bravado, he swung from the room, but it was a pleasure to see the sky again. His horse welcomed him with a whinny, and mounting, he rode slowly to the gate. His gloomy expression was misunderstood by the keeper.
“Ain't feelin' so fresh, huh?" he commented, but not until the rider was out of hearing. "Thought he'd larn you." When he was well beyond the range of prying eyes, Sudden straightened up in his saddle. His face was drawn and set with resolve. He had been driven to shoot the man he had come to save, just as he would have put out of its misery a suffering beast, and it hurt.
“If ever I'm in a like case, I hope someone will act the same," he muttered, and then, "I had to do it.”
But the devil who had made such a deed necessary must pay, and in full.
CHAPTER XI
Joan Keith reined in her pony, leaned back in the saddle, and drew a long breath of profound satisfaction. She loved this untamed land, with its sandy scrub-dotted wastes, fragrant pine-woods, gloomy gorges, and inhospitable hills. Out of an unclouded vault above, the sun flung its fire relentlessly, but the night would bring a gracious coolness. The aromatic scent of the sage stung her nostrils. Behind stretched an undulating plain, the short brown grass of which fattened the Double K herds, and in front, a welter of low, broken ridges rising step by step to pinnacled grey peaks. It was upon these that her gaze rested longest. Among them—just where, she did not know—lay Hell City, and her eyes grew misty as she thought of the wayward boy who was wrecking his life there. Not his only, but her own, though this was something she fought not to admit, even to herself.
“Yes, it's a great pity, but when old men are tyrannical ..." The voice, familiar, but with a harsh intonation that was strange, startled her, and set her pony rearing. Her capable hands soon brought it under control and she turned to face the intruder, who had stolen up behind her, the sandy soil deadening the footfalls of his mount. Her face flushed and then paled as she saw the red mask beneath the high-crowned Stetson. Dumbly she noted the dandified cowboy rig, the silver spurs, and lavishly decorated saddle on the fine black he bestrode.
“You could always ride, Joan," he went on, and, reading her thought, "Yes, a good horse, Arab and mustang speed and stamina. I call him `Pluto'—rather appropriate, I fancy.”
Below the pulled-down brim of the big hat she could see the pale eyes appraising her with cold curiosity. The sneeringly polite manner jarred on her, and she remained silent.
“You don't seem very glad to see me, yet we were good friends once," he said.
“Did you expect I would be?" she cried, stirred to anger and speech by the reference to earlier and happier days. "You are not the man I knew; you have changed—horribly."
“And you too have changed—charmingly," he smiled. "You were a pretty girl; now, you are a beautiful woman. By Christmas, it must be getting on for two years since I saw you. We must meet more often.”
She shook her head. "Impossible, unless you give up this hideous masquerade and abandon the dreadful life you are leading," she said. "Won't you do it, Jeff? Your father—"
“Hates me, and would hound down and hang me if he had the power," he broke in fiercely. "Within the past few weeks he has hired a noted killer from Texas to help him accomplish that very thing. No, like Napoleon, I am a Man of Destiny. I must follow my fate, even—”
“If it leads to the gallows," she finished.
“Yes, even so, but it will not. The leaden-witted fools round here regard me as the chief of a band of criminals, hiding under a fantastic name, ready to rob for mere gain. Bah ! I care little for gold, but a great deal for the power it can give me. You have said I am changed, Joan. you are right; I have found myself; I have ambition."
“A poor one—to be an infamous outlaw."
“That is simply a stepping-stone to greater things. When I am the largest landowner in northern Arizona the past will be forgotten; the world forgives all to the successful."
“Such dreams are madness. The Government—"
“Has far too much on hand to worry about the West for years. When it does, I shall be established and—respectable. Some of our biggest cattlemen started as rustlers and then stole the land they now occupy. I shall begin with the Double K, which is mine by right."
“At present it belongs to Kenneth Keith, and he is neither old nor ailing," she reminded.
The thin lips under the mask parted slightly. " `In the midst of life ...' " he quoted. "He may—meet with—an accident.”
There was no mistaking the sinister insinuation and the girl's face blanched. "Your own father!" she exclaimed, horror-struck.
“My own father," he repeated mockingly, "who told me I was no son of his, and desires nothing so much as my death."
“I do not believe it."
“It is true; I have a means of knowing."
“You trust your spies?" she asked scornfully.
“I trust no one," he told her. "My knowledge comes from myself; ignorant folk call it witchcraft, black magic, or the like; actually it is a gift of divination. It enabled me to be sure of your presence here this morning."
“Impossible ! I did not decide to come this way until after I had set out."
“Nevertheless, I knew, and so came to meet you. I wanted to see you because, changed as I am in many ways, one thing remains unaltered—my feeling for you. There has never been anyone else."
“Rumour tells a different tale," she said coldly.
“And rumour—as usual—lies. I saved a woman from imprisonment, but she is nothing to me. I cared for you, Joan, and if that domineering old autocrat—"
“You shall not speak of him so,"' she cried heatedly.
“Incredible!" he murmured. "Why, you are not even of his blood."
“He has been a father to me, and I love him as a daughter," she said warmly, and then, "Jeff, I think I hate you.”
For a long moment the man gazed at her, noting the tanned, flushed cheeks, the firm, ripe lips, and the curling tendrils of golden hair trembling in the light breeze. Desire glowed for an instant in his stony eyes.
“You think so, but it is not the case," he replied. "When Keith gave me the air, you had an affection for me.”
“Which, if indeed it ever existed, you have effectually slain," she said passionately.
“No, it is dormant maybe, but one kiss from me will bring it to life.”
His effrontery infuriated her. "Never," she stormed. "You, a would-be parricide ...”
She turned to go, but he was too quick. Ere she could guess his intention, a touch of the spurs sent his horse close to her own and he had gripped her by the wrist and waist.
“Don't struggle, Joan," he panted, his voice thick with passion. "You are mine. One day we will reign together at the Double K, my lovely queen.”
Frantically she strove to free herself but without avail. The red mask was before her eyes, the avid lips beneath it seeking her own. She wrenched her head aside and struck with her loose hand. The blow drew an oath from her assailant.
“Damn you," he gritted. "I'll—"
“Let the lady go, right now, if yu wanta live," a steely voice finished.
With a start of surprise, the masked man released his captive and swung round to face the speaker, a cowboy on a black horse. He was spinning a gun by the trigger-guard and appeared to be deeply interested in the operation.
“Who the hell told you to interfere?" Satan exploded.
The cowboy looked at him. "I don't need tellin' to protect a woman from insult," he said.
“There was no question of that," the other snapped. "We are old friends, aren't we, Joan?”
The girl ignored him. "I was very pleased to see you, Green," she said, in a still shaky voice.
“Better head for the ranch, ma'am; I'll take care this hombre don't pester yu no more," Sudden advised. "Yu didn't oughta use this part o' the range—too many varmints about."
“Yes," she agreed, and without a glance at the masked man, rode away.
No sooner was she out of hearing than Satan turned furiously upon the interloper, who was still playing with his pistol.
“What's the meaning of this?" he asked. "Are you working for me or not?"
“Shore I am," the puncher returned easily. "I've just done yu a service. See here, I'm ridin' for Keith. How long d'yu s'pose I'd be doin' that if I stood by when his daughter was needin' help?"
“She didn't see you."
“She did; I was right close before I recognized yu."
“I don't allow people I pay to correct me, even if I'm wrong."
“Then yu can call the deal off—I ain't riskin' my neck for a fool," Sudden said bluntly. "Yu were tryin' to do somethin' no decent girl would ever forgive. Miss Keith is a lady, not a dance-hall dame." He returned the glare in the sated eyes. "If yu an' me are to tread the same trail there's one thing yu gotta keep in mind, that I ain't one o' the gaol-sweepin's yu got herded up in Hell City.”
The bandit did not reply at once. He knew that the cowboy was right—he had behaved unwisely, to say the least of it.
The girl's loveliness had shattered the shield of icy indifference behind which he was wont to hide. This saturnine gunman had saved him from committing an irretrievable blunder, and though he felt no gratitude, he did not wish to lose him. So, when he spoke again, the anger had gone.
“It is true. I acted like a half-wit, but I had not seen Joan for a long time and her beauty swept me off my feet. I am sorry." He laughed shortly. "Rescuing damsels in distress seems to be a habit of yours. Miss Dalroy—"
“She told yu?"
“There was no need; I saw it all, though I was in Hell City at the time." He read the other's expression, and added, "You don't believe there are men who see things their fellows cannot?"
“I've met 'em; it was allus a case of too much tangle-foot.”
Satan shrugged. "I can't convince you, of course, but I venture to predict that Joan will beg you not to mention her meeting with me. Adios, my friend; it may be I have misjudged you; we shall yet do things to our mutual advantage.”
He waved a hand, spurred his mount, and was soon lost in the vegetation which clothed the lower slopes of the hills. The cowboy spat in disgust.
“Play-actor, but a damn dangerous one," he muttered. "Friend, huh? I'd sooner tie up with a rattlesnake. Oughta rubbed him out, but I'm bettin' the girl still thinks of him as he used to be, which ain't goin' to help me any.”
Confirmation of this view came as he approached the ranch that evening and saw Joan herself riding towards him. She turned her horse when they met.
“I want to thank you for—this morning," she began. "What happened?”
Sudden saw her anxiety, and smiled. "Why, just nothin'a-tall," he replied. "I told that hombre he'd find the hills more healthy, an' he drifted.”
Her relief was obvious. "This is the second service you have done me," she said, "and I am going to ask a third: will you please keep silent about this unfortunate affair? Knowledge of it would only embitter my father still more, and might drive him to some desperate reprisal."
“Anythin' yu say, goes, ma'am," the cowboy said quietly. "If I hadn't guessed who he was ...”
She smiled her gratitude. "I can't understand," she confided. "He was always wild, impetuous, but never mean or dishonourable. He seemed older too, and almost—inhuman."
“Broodin' over an injustice ages an' sours a man plenty fast," he told her, and—not knowing his own story--she was surprised at the venom in his voice. Then he added something he did not in the least believe, "Mebbe he ain't so bad as folks figure—I've knowed such cases.”
The words made her think. Was he himself one of the cases he had "knowed"? She could not decide, but it seemed difficult to credit that this grave young man, whose rare smile transformed his face into that of a boy, could be a notorious killer. Perhaps he had only said it to comfort her. Impulsively she held out her hand.
“Thank you again," she said, and spurred her pony.
Sudden's eyes followed her. "Nig, there's fools yu couldn't drag into heaven at the end of a rope," he told his horse.
CHAPTER XII
Kenneth Keith looked up as the latest addition to his outfit stepped on to the verandah. A week had passed since he learned of the cowboy's sinister history, and nothing had happened to change his first impression.
“I'd like to be foot-loose for a day or so, seh," Sudden said. "Where do yore fellas go when they got coin to spend an' aim to have a good time?”
The rancher's face darkened at this unexpected request; it was more than a little early for a new hand to be seeking a holiday. But he knew the breed; when the urge for a spree possessed them, they would sacrifice their positions to ;ratify it.
“Work-shy already?" he asked sarcastically. "Red Rock kill clean you out quickly enough; women, drink, and cards, with a probable gun-fight thrown in; you'll find them all here."
“Thank yu, seh," Sudden replied. "That tale will do for the boys, but the truth is, I'm goin' to Hell City.”
If the puncher had suddenly developed horns and a tail his employer could not have appeared more astonished.
“Are you tired of life?" he cried. "Why, they'll shoot you on sight."
“Yo're forgettin' my past," the puncher pointed out, and when Keith remained silent, "Didn't yu get the news' I warned yu about?"
“yes, but I decided to ignore it, and I'm asking no questions." a o d. Well, fella will be glad to see me."
“That is possible, if he knows who you are."
“Black Sam claims he's a wizard—finds out everythin'."
“That nigger is a superstitious old lunatic, saturated with witchcraft, voodoo, and like nonsense. To risk your life on that ..."
“Not any; the outfit is wise, an' I'm bettin' one of 'em is in Satan's pay."
“Which one?" the rancher asked sharply.
“Couldn't say," Sudden replied, and grinned. "It ain't Frosty nor Lazy—they's allus most amazin' broke.”
Keith was silent for a space, considering this singular proposition, and a little suspicious. He reminded himself, however, that had the cowboy wished to desert he could have done so without warning, and the Red Rock fable was unnecessary unless he intended to return to the ranch.
“Why are you going, Green?”
There was a shade of anxiety in his tone which Sudden knew was not there on his account.
“Just to have a look at the fella an' his hide-out," he explained. "Sort o' spyin' out the land, yu savvy; I ain't gettin' no place, hangin' about here. He'll take it I'm ready to double-cross yu, an' that's what I'm gamblin' on." He hesitated for a moment. "Yu don't happen to have a picture o'—yore On?”
Keith frowned. "No, I—destroyed them," he said harshly. "Take care of yourself, Green; I will explain to Lagley.”
As the puncher walked away, a low voice called from a window at the end of the building.
“These wooden walls are not sound-proof," Joan smiled. "I happened to hear your last question. Is this what you want? It was taken only a few months before he—went away.”
Sudden scrutinized the photograph, which seemed oddly familiar. The costly cowboy clothes, ornate belt and weapons were there, but the face of the wearer was younger, smiling, and the eyes did not lack expression. A mark showed on the right side of the chin. He pointed to it, and the girl nodded.
“A faint scar, the only thing about him that hasn't altered," she said sadly. "You see, I was the cause of that. It happened when we were children: I had teased him, and running after me, he fell on a stone; the wound healed badly. All along I have been persuading myself there must be some mistake, but when I saw that ...”
The quiver in her voice and the trembling fingers as she took back the picture told him that she was very near tears.
“A fella who takes the wrong trail can come back an' start again," he consoled.
“Yes," she said, and her eyes met his meaningly. "I would like Jeff to have that chance.”
Sudden understood—she was asking him not to kill. To his great relief, the Colonel called her, and he was spared the necessity of replying.
At supper that evening, he asked questions about Red Rock, and casually mentioned his holiday. The announcement met with a mixed reception.
“Why, yu ain't been here no time," one of the older men commented. "How'd yu work it, Green?"
“Held a gun on the 01' Man, I should think," Turvey sneered.
“Yeah, that's yore trouble, Turvey," Sudden retorted. "Yu should, but yu don't. I just asked, that's all."
“Ken must be drunk or loco; strike while the iron's hot is my motto," Frosty grinned, as he made for the door. "I'd like to go with yu, Jim.”
He was back in ten minutes, still wearing the grin, but hisred face told a different story. A dozen eager voices put the same question.
Frosty shook his head. "Said he was mighty sorry, but he couldn't have two of his best men absent at the same time, which shows he's in his senses all right. 0' course, that don't shut out all o' yu.”
A yelp of ironical mirth greeted this modest explanation and in the midst of it, Lagley entered. He shot a sour look at Sudden.
“Why didn't yu come to me if yu wanted to lay off?”
“Thought I'd save yu the trouble of askin' the boss," was • the careless reply.
The implication that he had not the power to give permission only deepened the foreman's frown, but it was Turvey who spoke.
“Allus did hate a ranch where the owner keeps pets," he said viciously.
“Well, yu ain't tied to it, are yu?" Sudden enquired acidly.
Lagley averted a possible storm by calling the new hand outside.
“Keith said yu were goin' to Red Rock. How long d'yu aim to stay away?" he asked.
“Two-three days, mebbe."
“Have yu told—him?" He jerked a thumb towards the hills.
“Lord, no. I ain't sold him my soul."
“Wait an' see," was the reply, and the puncher could have sworn there was a tinge of bitterness in the tone. "D'yu figure that he won't know?"
“I ain't carin', but shore he will," Sudden said. "Why, yonder goes Turvey, takin' the glad tidin's.”
Even as he spoke, a hunched-up little horseman shot away from the corral, heading through the gloom towards the hills. The foreman swore.
“Damnation, yo're way off the target, Green. That hombre has to night-herd the bunch o' three-year-olds yu an' Frosty have rousted out'n the brush.”
Sudden accepted the explanation but did not believe it. "A fella can't allus hit the mark," he said. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"
“On'y this," Lagley replied. "Yo're sittin' in a bigger game than yu savvy; don't over-value yore hand."
“Oh, I'm growed up an' got all my teeth," the puncher returned lightly. "Any messages for Red Rock?”
He got no answer to this flippant enquiry. Seated on the bench outside the bunkhouse, he smoked, and turned things over. Despite the fact that they were supposed to be working together, the foreman did not like him. That he had guessed correctly as to Turvey's errand he felt positive.
“Steve don't want me in neither camp," he reflected. "Probably he's plannin' to play me some scurvy trick right now. Wonder if that little rat is goin' on to Red Rock to make arrangements?”
The possibility sent him to bed chuckling.
Sudden's reception in the morning at Black Sam's was not the one he had expected, for though the negro professed to be glad to see him, it was very evidently untrue. His hands shook as he supplied the drink ordered, and his anxious gaze was never off the door. A blunt enquiry elicited that nothing had been seen of Scar and his friends, but that other denizens of the bandit stronghold had visited Dugout and behaved themselves decorously.
“Then what's yore trouble, ol'-timer?" the puncher demanded. "Why treat me like I had a catchin' complaint?”
The saloon-keeper furtively pushed a piece of paper the bar. "Done foun' it dis mawnin', shove undeh de do', quavered. "I silo' gotta leave heah.”
Clumsily scrawled in pencil on the soiled scrap were the words : "One more offense an' you dekorate a tree.
SATAN.”
Sudden laughed as he read it. "I wouldn't be in too much of a hurry, Sam," he advised. "Why, yu numskull, don't yu reckon Jeff Keith can write an' spell better'n that?”
The negro's gloomy features lightened. "Yo're sho'ly right, ser," he agreed. "Dis niggeh got no savvy. Massa Jeff he done went to college."
“It's friend Scar, o' course, tryin' to frighten yu. Lemme have the message, an' next time I meet the gent I'll make him eat it.”
He pocketed the warning and casually mentioning that he was bound for Red Rock, departed. Climbing the long slope to Hell City, an idea occurred to him which brought a mischievous grin to his hard face. The custodian of the gate opened without question or comment, though it was not the man he had seen before. Evidently he was expected. The bandit chief received him without any sign of surprise and his first remark told that Turvey's time had not been entirely devoted to night-herding.
“Aren't you rather wide of the route to Red Rock?" Sudden affected astonishment he did not feel. "Yu are well served," he said.
“As a man should be who serves himself," was the reply. "Did the girl ask you to be silent?"
“It was a good guess.”
The masked man grimaced. "Well, call it that. Now I'll tell you another thing—you never had any intention of visiting Red Rock."
“Me bein' here, it shore looks thataway," the puncher countered. "Mebbe yu know about this too." He produced the scrap of paper and told where he had obtained it. "Not quite yore style, I'd say, threatin' an old darkie who musta been pretty good to yu as a kid," he added sarcastically.
The effect was volcanic. Through shut lips the bandit barked an order which sent Silver scuttering. His master paced to and fro, his fists bunched till the knuckle-bones showed white beneath the skin, obviously seething with anger. In a few minutes the dwarf returned, with Roden slouching behind. With a furious gesture, Satan flung the paper at his feet.
“What's the meaning of that?" he snarled.
The man picked it up. "I dunno " he began, and stopped as he saw the gun levelled at his breast.
“One lie and you'll never speak again.”
The rascal did not doubt it. In those pale eyes shone a lust to take his life, and he knew that the finger on the trigger was itching to press it. His tanned skin turned to a sickly yellow.
“Aw, Chief, I didn't mean no harm," he muttered. "The nigger's bin gittin' uppity—you know what he done to some of us a bit back, an' I wanted to give him a bad moment, that's all."
“All? You dared to act without permission, and use my name? One more break like that, you damned dog, and I'll feed you to the buzzards. Get out, and remember, that warning now applies to you.”
Only when the fellow had crept, utterly cowed, from the room did Satan replace his revolver and turn again to his visitor. The storm had passed.
“I am obliged to you," he said. "These brutes must learn that there is only one head."
“Would you have shot him?" the cowboy asked curiously. "Certainly, and he knew it," the bandit replied, and with a cold smile, '' You dont believe that. Well, I have another case to deal with—a worse one. You shall see.”
He nodded to his satellite, who went and opened the door. Two men entered, gripping the arms of a third; behind them came some half-dozen others. Ragged, ill-favoured fellows, all of them, who found in the lawless West a haven where they might keep their freedom.
The prisoner was a half-breed, with more Mexican than Indian blood in him the cowboy conjectured, for he displayed none of the red man's stoicism in misfortune, and his spare frame shook as with an ague when his guards halted him in front of the masked judge. The poor wretch did not know that by his own cowardice he was condemning himself. Satan wasted no time.
“In the Big Bend affair you were one of the men who entered and cleaned up the bank?"
“Si, senor," was the reply, almost in a whisper.
“And you kept back five hundred dollars in gold, thereby adding to your share and lessening ours," the cold voice continued.
The man's lips writhed. "Sefior, eet ees a meestak," he cried. "Dere was one beeg haste—I no theenk—"
“That I would find out," the other concluded. "Fool ! All that happens is revealed to me by powers you could not comprehend. Listen: you gave one of the gold pieces to your woman, Anita; the others are buried beneath your blankets. You see, I know all. You have broken your oath to me, and robbed your comrades. The penalty for either is—death.”
The accused tried to speak but his trembling lips were incapable of forming words. Save for the support of the two who held him he would have fallen to the floor. His judge contemplated him with contempt.
“I shall be merciful," he said, "but you must be punished.”
He paused, and the cowboy saw a gleam of hope in the dark, fearful eyes. "You will receive—fifty lashes.”
The gleam died instantly and stark terror took its place.
Speech came again in a shrill cry: "Not the wheep, senor; keel me, but not the wheep." He would have dropped on his knees but the guards rudely jerked him upright, and at a sign from their master, dragged him away, still mouthing wild, incoherent entreaties.
Satan motioned to his servant. "See to it, and let me know when all is ready," he said, and to Sudden, "Well, what do you think?"
“It will kill him."
“Of course, but it will save me from slaying others for the same offence," was the callous reply. "That is civilization's excuse for hanging a murderer—he dies that the rest may live, so even this contemptible coward will have served the community." From without, the muffled, brazen voice of a bell came to them. "Have you ever seen a man thrashed, Sudden? Come, it is an interesting sight.”
Little as he wished to witness such a spectacle, the puncher could not refuse. A deed of violence was no new thing to him, and in the course of his adventurous career he had encountered men who, spurred on by greed or revenge, would commit any crime in the calendar, but never had he met the like of the inhuman devil at his side. Throughout the mock trial he sensed that the Red Mask was revelling in his power to hurt, and his so-called promise of mercy was no more than calculated cruelty to a culprit already doomed.
They stepped out into the sunlight to find a curious scene awaiting them. At a point where the street widened, stood a stout post, and beside it, fixed to the cliff, a big bell. Sudden had noticed them earlier but without suspecting their sinister purpose. Tied to the post, stripped to the waist, his bound wrists- high above his head, was the half-breed, and by hisale a burly fellow holding a short-handled whip of plaited rawhide, the tapering end of which was knotted at intervals. Ringed round the pair were some two-score onlookers, summoned by the sonorous notes of the bell. Mostly men, their coarse, cruel faces were alight with anticipation. They were about to be entertained, and Sudden, seeking for some sign of sympathy, remembered that the condemned had endeavoured to rob these people; there could be no compassion from them.
The excited chattering ceased and the circle opened as the Red Mask and his companion appeared. A little behind where they stood the cowboy could hear two men muttering. "Five dollars he don't stand twenty-five strokes.”
“Yo're on; Pedro is tougher than he 'pears."
“But he got the gal Muley wanted an' that hombre ain't the forgettin' sort. Look at him.”
The man with the whip was drawing the lash almost caressingly through his fingers, with a gloating expression which only too plainly betrayed eagerness to begin his ghoulish task. Sudden's remonstrance brought only a sneer to the Chief's thin lips.
“I picked him for that reason," he said coldly. "I shall get good service.”
He was about to give the awaited signal when, from behind a group of spectators, a woman rushed forward and flung herself at his feet. Not yet thirty, she had a bold kind of beauty, but now her face had the pallor of death, the cheeks sunken, the eyes filled with bitter anguish.
“Spare him," she pleaded. "He did not want the gold—he took it for me, because I taunted him with his poverty. It was my fault, let me take the punishment. I do not fear the whip, but Pedro is ill—it will kill him.”
The impassioned appeal might have been made to a statue. One piteous glance at those implacable eyes told her that she had failed.
“Take her away," Satan ordered.
The woman stood up. Despair had transformed her from a broken suppliant into a raging fury. She raised a hand heavenwards.
“You devil!" she raved. "May God's fire strike you—”
Ere she could finish, the words were stifled in her throat. The men who had seized her were about to drag her from the scene when the Chief stayed them.
“Let her remain," he said harshly. "She shall see her lover suffer, and if she utters but one word, I will double the sentence.”
But the spirit of passion was spent; with a low moan, the woman sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands. The man with the whip, whose advances she had rejected, gazed at the bowed form with brutal satisfaction; every blow he dealt would lacerate her also; his vengeance would be complete.
A curt command and the lash whistled through the air, sweeping across the bared back and cutting a livid weal from shoulder to hip. The half-breed's whole frame quivered and from his ashen lips sprang a shriek of agony.
“I figured Muley would draw blood at the first lick," one of the wagerers commented.
“Bah! He ain't started yet—that was just a taster," the other replied. "He don't want Pedro to pass out too soon.”
The cruel work went on, blow succeeding blow, and with fiendish accuracy the wielder of the weapon contrived that each should fall on a new spot, so that by the time a dozen had been delivered, the victim's back became a red, raw mass. The pain must have been atrocious but after the first cry there was no further sound save the hiss of the lash. Dangling limply from his bound wrists, head bowed between hisbiceps, the sufferer was spared the sight of the brute beasts gathered there to witness his torment.
“Gittin' tired Muley?" one asked jeeringly. "Somebody did oughta spell you.”
The flogger, already exasperated by the silence of his subject, spat an oath at the speaker and, measuring his distance, rained stroke after stroke, slashing the pulped flesh to ribbons and sending the blood flying. Then he paused, panting, his eyes glaring murder. But his work was done; the drooping head of the half-breed sagged sideways. Muley darted forward and grasped it by the hair.
“Cashed!" he cried disgustedly. "He's cheated me, damn him.”
With a gesture, the Chief stilled the babel which broke out. "Justice is done," he said grandiloquently.
As they walked away, the puncher was aware that his companion was eyeing him closely.
“Well, what do you think of my method of treating traitors?"
“'Pears to make yu popular with yore people," was Sudden's non-committal answer.
Satan laughed mockingly. "They hate, but are afraid of me," he boasted, "and that is how I would have it. Poets prate of love, but fear is the strongest of the passions; it is the great governing factor of life; fear of pain, punishment, death and damnation turns us all into cowards and makes so-called civilization possible. Have you ever thought of that?"
“Too high-falutin' for me," Sudden said. "What I'm worryin' about right now is where I'll sleep an' put my hoss; I ain't due back at the Double K till to-morrow evenin'."
“Silver will see to it, and there is a corral at the other end of the place."
“I'll take Nigger along, an' have a look round."
“Better wear this," Satan replied, producing one of the red badges. "It will tell the men that you are now one of us, and may save you trouble.”
Sudden's truculent tone was back. "If anybody starts somethin' I hope yu got a good big graveyard.”
The cold eyes glinted. "There's room in it," was the answer.
CHAPTER XIII
It did not take the cowboy long to find the corral, formed by fencing an indentation in the cliff on the left of the street. There was a trough of water, and scanty tussocks of coarse grass afforded some sort of feed. Sudden surveyed it whimsically.
“Short commons, of friend," he said, as he turned the black loose, "but yu ain't gotta live here—yet. Don't yu go to learnin' bad habits from them other rough-necks.”
By the side of the corral was a largish timber building, a weather-worn sign on which announced it as "Dirk's Saloon." Carrying his saddle and rifle, Sudden went in. A middle-aged, pock-marked man behind the bar was the sole occupant; he promptly produced a bottle.
“Drinkin' alone is a poor kind o' pastime," the customer said genially, and when the other had helped himself, added, "Got a bed for me to-night?"
“Guess I can fix it," was the reply. "Seen you with the Chief. New chum, huh?"
“Yu might call it that," the cowboy agreed. "So yu were there? It warn't a pretty sight, but a fella who double-crosses his pals don't deserve pity."
“You said it. Pedro got what he shorely asked for.”
They drank again, and Sudden, having dumped his belongings in his bedroom, went out. Turning westwards, he discovered that the street narrowed again to a mere defile closed by a gate similar to that by which he had entered. He stopped short of it, and retraced his steps. A little beyond the saloon, on the opposite side, the sound of sobs arrested him. Acting upon an impulse, he stole along a burrow-like assage outside which he had halted. It led to one of the rimitive caves, and there he found the woman, Anita, on her i ees by some scattered blankets. Two stools, and a few attered cooking utensils comprised all the furniture. She looked up as he entered, and said dully: "What now? Haven't you done enough?"
“Somebody seemed to be in trouble," Sudden replied. "I thought mebbe I could help."
“Help?" she repeated harshly. "From one who wears the Devil's trade-mark? Can you bring the dead back to life, you who stood by and laughed as he died?"
“Yu got me wrong, ma'am," he said gently. "I ain't much iven to laughin' an' doin's like that shore don't amuse me. I ouldn't stop it—they'd got the goods on him.”
She hesitated, her tear-drenched eyes still suspicious. "It s true," she murmured at length. "That hell-dog knows everything—he has a spirit. Even at this moment maybe—"
“Shucks ! he's no more'n an ornery human bein'—a mighty ornery one at that. He's got spies an' I'm bettin' he pays 'em well. Go an' tell him what I've said an' make yore peace.”
Her eyes flashed. "After what he did? I would die first," she cried passionately. "Wasn't it enough to take life without ...?”
She broke down, but he gradually learned the story. They had brought the dead man to his wretched abode, and when she had begged them to let her bury the body, had hurled it headlong through the opening which provided light and entilation, with the cruel gibe that the coyotes would save her the trouble. Sudden looked out; more than a hundred feet below he could see the tossing tops of trees above theundergrowth. Satan had spoken truly; there was indeed room in the grave-yard.
“Mebbe I can find an' bury him for yu," he said.
She stared at him, wonderingly. "Stranger, if you'll do that, I—"
“Shucks," he interrupted hastily, and beat a retreat. Getting his horse, he rode to the western gate, which the man in charge opened without demur. For a mile the wagon-track rose and fell, swinging round then where it dipped down into the valley which the bandit town overlooked. Thrusting through the thick brush along the foot of the cliff he arrived near the place where he judged the body must fall. Presently he found it—a shapeless heap in a patch of tall grass. He had no implement to dig a hole but there was a convenient crevice and in this he laid the poor broken frame, piling heavy stones to defend it from desecration. Then, with his knife, he carved a rude cross to mark the spot.
Night was nigh when he again entered the town, and in the shadows opposite the saloon, saw the woman waiting. He told her what he had done and the drooping figure straightened.
“So, I have only to avenge him," she said, and her low voice was venomous. It softened again as-she continued, "Stranger, in this den of wild beasts it is good to have a friend; remember you can count on one who will not forget what she owes you."
“Why, I ain't done nothin'," he protested.
“You think not? Yet if that murderer learns of it he will treat the pair of us as he did Pedro."
“We won't tell him," Sudden smiled. "Adios.”
He swung his horse over towards the corral, and when he had vanished in the gloom, Anita returned to the hovel she called home. Sinking down on the pile of rugs, she shook her head in perplexity.
“Why is he here?" she asked herself. "He's not like the rest." She had heard he was a gunman, renowned in the West, and he looked it, but there was a cleanness, a self-reliance, and lack of bluster which made him stand out among the criminals and outcasts who found a refuge in Hell City. The thought that this stranger was no admirer of the man she had vowed vengeance upon brought a tigerish smile to her lips.
Sudden's appearance in the saloon earned him no more than a glance or two; a new face was a common occurrence, and his was not even that. Some two dozen men were present, playing cards, dicing, or drinking at the bar. Among the latter was Muley, who seemed to be the chief attraction. He was evidently proud of his morning's performance and could speak of nothing else, his one grievance being that it had not lasted longer.
“You hit too hard," one of the group round him remarked.
“Hard?" bellowed Muley. "Why, I hadn't mor'n begun to stroke him when he goes an' dies on me. I'm tellin' you, the Chief's gittin' poor stuff these days; calls theirselves men an' ain't got the guts of a louse.”
His malignant gaze travelled round the room, rested for an instant on the puncher, and passed on to a youth sitting alone on a stool at the end of the bar. Sudden had already noticed him and speculated as to what boyish escapade had brought him there. With a wink to his companions, the flogger lurched across, and said roughly: "What's yore name, you?”
The lad looked at him with drink-bemused eyes. "Ben Holt," he replied, adding, "I on'y come in to-day."
“Well, if that ain't good news. The rule is for newcomers to set up drinks for the crowd. What about it?”
Ben Holt laughed dismally. "Yo're too late, mister, I'm near busted," he explained. "If I'd knowed earlier ... “
The bully growled an oath, and swinging his right arm struck the boy a flat-handed blow on the side of his head which swept him to the floor. Then he seated himself on the vacant stool, and with an impudent grin at Sudden, said: "That's what we do to fresh fellas who don't pay their footin'.”
All eyes were on the puncher as he stepped unhurriedly forward. "I'm a fresh fella, an' I'm not buyin'. So what?”
For ten tense seconds, Muley stared into the grey-blue eyes of the man who had called his bluff, seeking a way out. The other found it for him.
“Yu yaller dawg," he grated. "If I'd a whip yu should have a taste of yore own medicine, but as it is ...”
His hand rose and fell, landing on the fellow's bloated cheek with such force as to send him sprawling. Lying in the dirt, spitting out inarticulate curses, he clawed feebly at the gun he dared not draw. Covert grins were on the faces of most of the onlookers—a bully has few friends in the day of discomfiture. Sudden took no further notice of him, but went to the boy, who had got up and was watching the scene with wide eyes.
“A mouthful o' fresh air won't do yu no harm," he said, and led the way to the door.
Outside the corral the puncher paused, ostensibly to make a cigarette, but actually to give his companion time to shake off the fumes of the spirit he had imbibed. The cool cleanness of the night appeared to bring him out of the semi-dazed state. Sudden surveyed him sardonically.
“I'm guessin' yu an liquor ain't very well acquainted," he remarked. "Drownin' yore sorrows is a poor way—the blame things can anus swim.”
The boy made a desperate attempt to smile. "I expect yo're right," he said. "But you were drinkin' too."
“I was takin' a drink. To sit there lappin' 'em up one after the other is somethin' different. What brought yu here?”
It was a common enough tale. A gambling debt he could not pay, an attempt to get the money dishonestly which failed, and he was outside the law.
“The sheriff an' his men was hot on our trail an' we lined out for here. They got the other two, but I made it. I most wish I hadn't," he finished miserably.
“That's no way to talk," Sudden told him. "Keep yore chin up an' stay away from liquor an' cards. When did yu lose that posse?"
“Two days back, 'bout forty mile off," was the reply. "I rode in the water some."
“Good for yu. I'm bettin' they've turned tail.”
Holt remembered something. "I'm thankin' you," he said shyly.
“Don't yu. That windbag was aimin' at me. So long.”
Purely as a matter of policy, the puncher returned to the saloon, the owner of which greeted him with a grin.
“He's went," he said. "Got the face-ache, I figure; that was a daddy of a wallop you give him." He lowered his voice. "Don't forget that anythin' goes in this man's town.”
Sudden realized that the warning was well-meant. "I'm obliged, friend," he smiled. "Right now, bed goes for me.”
Lying on his blankets in the darkness he turned over the day's doings. He had put two people under an obligation, and had made another enemy; the latter troubled him not at all. His examination of the place had only convinced him of its strength. As for its ruler ... It seemed incredible that Kenneth Keith could be father to such a son.
“He's a throw-back," Sudden mused. "The 01' Man musta had a pirut ancestor, one o' the bloodthirsty kind that made prisoners walk the plank just to amuse hisself, though that would be too tame for this fella.”
Satisfied with this solution, he went to sleep. In the morning he idled about, studying the life in this human warren. Itwas a peaceful enough scene. Men, and a few women, sunning themselves in the open, or chatting in groups outside the store or the saloon; it might have been any one of a hundred frontier settlements he had seen. Once, a hard-eyed rider galloped in, scattering dust and dogs in all directions, to disappear into the Chief's abode. He encountered the woman, Anita, but she went by without a glance. Then he ran into Holt, and saw that something was troubling him.
“Head bad?" he asked.
“Feels like it had been split open with an axe an' joined wrong," the boy said ruefully. "But that ain't anythin'." He hesitated a moment and then blurted out, "I tried to git away this mornin', but the fella at the gate said I had to have a permit.”
The puncher shook his head. "It ain't that easy. Better stay an' lay for a chance. Mebbe I'll be able to help yu.”
In the afternoon he went to see the Chief. He found Miss Dalroy there, and would have retired, but the masked man stayed him.
“Come in," he said. "You know Belle, I believe."
“We met at a very fortunate moment—for me," the girl smiled, her fine eyes dwelling on the lithe, athletic form of the visitor. "I owe you a great deal, Mister Sudden."
“My name is Green, ma'am," he corrected stiffly, "an' yu don't owe me nothin'."
“Well, I give in about the name," she replied. "For the rest, I shall—"
“I take the debt upon myself, Belle," Satan interrupted, and to the cowboy, "So you didn't avail yourself of Silver's hospital?"
“I like to sleep near my hoss," Sudden replied curtly. "And you occupied your time antagonizing another of your comrades," the cold voice continued. "Was that wise?"
“He was tryin' to run a blazer on me, an' I don't stand for that—from anyone.”
The belligerent tone and very obvious challenge brought the merest ghost of a smile to the straight lips beneath the mask, an effect the speaker did not expect.
“I'm goin' back to the Double K to-night," he announced.
Sudden saw the man's fists tighten, but, furious as the bandit was at this slighting of his authority, he showed no other sign.
“The great gunman is already weary of us," he said mockingly to the girl. "We can only hope that he will return soon—and stay longer.”
Though the cowboy sensed the threat his expression was blank. "Shore I'll be back," he said, and added a clumsy compliment, "Hell City ain't so much, but if it's good enough for Miss Dalroy ...”
He bowed to the lady, nodded to the man, and swaggered out. For a space there was silence, and then Satan remarked, "That fellow has much to learn.”
The woman shivered; the words were commonplace, but the tone in which they were spoken made them sound like a death sentence. With what seemed uncanny power, he read her thought.
“Feeling sorry for him, Belle?”
The start of surprise told him he had guessed correctly, but her reply was contradictory. With a disdainful shrug she said: "Not very, but naturally, I'm grateful.”
Dusk was falling when Sudden set out for the Double K. As he neared the gate of the town, a hooded figure stopped him; it was Belle Dalroy.
“I've been waiting to tell you just one thing," she whispered hurriedly. "Don't come back—ever."
“Why, ma'am, it's right kind o' yu, but I'm afraid that ain't possible," Sudden told her. "Yu see—"
“That you are one of those self-satisfied folk on whom a warning is wasted, yes," she finished cuttingly. "Very well, I can do no more.”
She turned swiftly and was lost in the growing darkness. The puncher rode slowly on, wondering.
CHAPTER XIV
When he reached the Double K, Sudden rode straight to the ranch-house. Through the french windows of the living-room he could see that Keith had visitors—Martin Merry and Lagley. The girl was not present. The eyes of the men opened wide when the cowboy tapped on the window and walked in. Instantly three guns covered him.
“What the devil are you doing here?" his employer rapped out. "Talk fast, and keep your hands still.”
It was Sudden's turn to look astonished. "I'm here to report, seh," he said simply.
“And you brought your nerve with you," the Colonel retorted. "Having got the herd hidden I suppose you could be spared?"
“I'm in the dark, seh," the puncher said patiently.
“Really? So it will be news that our northern range was raided last night and over one hundred head driven off, together with as many Twin Diamond steers?"
“It certainly is."
“Yu an' Frosty have bin roustin' out an' bunchin' cattle on that boundary," Lagley remarked.
“At yore orders."
“So yu knowed where to find 'em.”
Sudden's eyes narrowed. "Yu tryin' to tell me I stole the stock?" he asked.
“Just that," the foreman replied. "Lyin' about it won't buy yu nothin'. Yu were seen—that white blaze on yore black is plenty unusual."
“Who saw me?"
“Several o' the boys—yore side-kick, Frosty, among 'em."
“Their sight must be good, me bein' in—"
“Red Rock, was yu about to say?" Lagley sneered. "We happen to know yu never went near there."
“That was a stall," Sudden explained. "I told the Colonel I was goin' to Hell City."
“On my business, but it seems to have been on his own," Keith said acridly. "He deceived me."
“I'll say he did," the foreman cried exultantly. "Gives him a chance to pull off the rustlin' an' if he's seen there, yu can't chirp—he's workin' for yu. Damned smart, I gotta hand it to yu, Sudden; the on'y mistake yu made was usin' yore own hoss. I guess that fixes yu, good an' proper.”
He looked expectantly at his companions. Merry slowly shook his head. "It looks like yu might be right, Lagley, but I hate to find myself mistaken in a man," he said. "What yu goin' to do, Ken?"
“Hang him at sunrise," was the stern reply. "A rope's the only remedy for rustling. Take his guns, Steve, and shoot if he makes a move.”
Sudden's brain was busy. The rancher's threat was no empty one, and to allow himself to be taken meant a shameful death; there would be no mercy for a man who had helped to rob his own range. Only a single chance remained, desperate, but he must take it. Three of them would be firing at him, but...
Silent, with arms hanging loosely from drooping shoulders as though overwhelmed by the catastrophe which had overtaken him, he waited until the foreman moved to do his master's hidding. Then his left hand flashed to his belt and a bullet shattered the hanging light, plunging the room into darkness. Three spits of flame followed, but the fugitive had instantly dropped to hands and knees, dived for the window, and disappeared amid a shower of broken glass. When the three reached the verandah, the diminishing drum of pounding hooves apprised them that they were too late. An excited group of half-clad men came surging from the bunkhouse, and Lagley was yelling to them to get their guns and horses when Keith stopped him.
“Don't be seven sorts of a damned fool," he said savagely. "you had him covered, in the light, and he got away. Fine chance you'd have in the dark. Tell the men to turn in, and do the same.”
When the foreman had gone, Merry turned to his host. "I'm just as pleased he made it. It's true things looked bad, but I can size up a fella with most, an' I'm bettin' there's an explanation."
“There is always that for the lunatic willing to believe it. Better put him on your pay-roll."
“I will, if he shows up," Martin grinned. "He's worth three o' yore foreman."
“Steve's stupid, but he's honest," Keith replied.
“Mebbe, but he ain't the man he used to be, an' I'd have no opening for him at the Twin Diamond," Martin said. "Hullo, here's Miss Joan come to see which of us she's gotta weep over.”
The girl, wrapped in a great-coat, and carrying a candle, was standing in the wrecked window. Keith explained what had happened.
“I don't believe that Green would steal cattle," she said. Merry burst out laughing and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Two to one against yu, ol'-timer; yo're outvoted," he cried.
“Which ought to convince me, I suppose?" Keith replied stiffly. "Well, it doesn't. If I lay hands on the scoundrel again, he swings, even if he's riding for you, Martin.”
'Satisfied that he would not be pursued ln the dark, Sudden eased his mount after covering a few miles. He saw clearly enough what had occurred: Satan and Lagley had "framed" him, and his absence from the Double K had provided the opportunity. A daub of white paint and the bandit's black would convincingly resemble Nigger in the starlight. Satan's reference to his early return to Hell City recurred to him and he now understood the sly smile which had then puzzled him. The reason for the plot was not so obvious. Either the bandit wished to force the cowboy to join him openly, or to get rid of him altogether. Sudden did not think the latter likely, though it might well have suited Lagley.
Dismissing the matter from his mind, he began to seek a place to spend the night, for he had no intention of returning to Hell City until daylight. It did not take him long; at a spot where the trail to Dugout dipped between brush-covered slopes, he found a grassy hollow from which he could see without being seen. He picketed his horse, but did not remove the saddle, rolled himself in his blanket, and, back against a sapling, was soon asleep.
The sun was climbing the eastern sky when a merry but unmelodious voice awoke him; it seemed familiar. Creeping forward, he parted the bushes; Frosty was riding leisurely towards him. Sudden grinned, thrust out a gun, and called hoarsely: "Push 'em up, yu yowlin' he-cat.”
The rider's start of surprise nearly threw him out of the saddle, but the protruding weapon admitted no argument; he raised his hands. The hidden voice went on grumblingly: "Oughta blow yore light out, spoilin' my sleep an' pizenin' the atmosphere thataway. Explain yoreself.”
Try as he might, he could not keep the mirth out of his tone. Frosty detected it; he lowered his hands.
“Shoot an' be damned," he said.
Instead of a bullet, came an order. "The sheriff o' Dugout will get off that bone-bag he calls a hoss an' step up here, fetchin' said bone-bag along.”
The cowboy did as directed and found himself facing the smiling owner of the voice. "Knowed it was yu allatime," he said hastily. "Just had to let yu play yore kid game. No, there ain't nobody followin' me; I slipped off."
“To find me?"
“I was hopin'—figured yu might go to town. Jim, I don't savvy—thought mebbe yu could wise me up."
“I ain't very clear my own self," Sudden admitted. "Yu were there when the herd was run off?"
“Yeah, four of us was watchin' them steers yu an' me bin collectin'—Steve had a hunch somethin' was goin' to happen," Frosty said.
Sudden's grin was ironical. "He would have," he commented. "An' he wanted plenty witnesses."
“Over a dozen of 'ern closed in onus from all sides, firin'," Frosty continued. "They got Denver in the leg, crippled two hosses, an' swept the cows off before we'd got our breath; it was the neatest gather. The leader's mount was the spit o' Nigger."
“Was he masked?"
“I didn't get that close an' the light was poor, but I'd say he had a bandanna round his chops. He shorely looked liked yu, Jim."
“It warn't me nor Nigger—both of us was in Hell City.”
“Yu didn't go to Red Rock?"
“Never meant to, an' Keith knowed it," Sudden said. "I've been framed, cowboy. Mister Satan wants me to throw in with him."
“I'll bet yu'd not do that, Jim."
“Then yu'd lose, for that is pre-cisely what I'm goin' to do," was the sardonic answer. "Are yu suggestin' I should let the Double K string me up?""There's other places," Frosty pointed out.
“I know it," Sudden retorted harshly. "I'm to go on the dodge for somethin' I didn't do, huh? That's happened before, an' I'm through. This time I'll hit back, an' hit hard.”
The bitter vehemence of this declaration told that further argument would be useless. Frosty was silent for a while, and then : "If yu need help, Jim, yu on'y gotta mention it—that's what I really came to say, an' I reckon it goes for some o' the others, too."
“I'm obliged, but there's no call for my friends to put their necks in a noose because I do," Sudden replied.
“Pickles !" Frosty laughed. "Friends oughta hang together, anyways. We're backin' yu—the limit."
“Which is mighty good hearin'," Sudden said soberly. "I got a sorta ambition to abolish Hell City, but yu needn't mention it yet awhile.”
Frosty stared at him incredulously. "Is that all?" he asked. "What yu goin' to do in yore spare time?"
“I'll have to think up somethin'," Sudden grinned. "Listen: I happened on a private way o' gettin' into the place." He described the spot. "Find, but don't use it till yu have a word from me. Still got that badge? Good, yu may need it."
“Jim, d'yu reckon Steve is Toxin'?"
“He was powerful eager to see me dance on nothin'.”
“No foreman likes to have his cattle stole."
“That's true; but I wouldn't trust him. Now, I gotta be on the move. So long."
“When yu want us we'll come a-runnin'," were Frosty's parting words. "Yu goin' to town?"
“Yeah, I couldn't stay for supper las' night an' my insides is remindin' me; fresh air's good, but it ain't fillin'.”
Frosty watched the black till it disappeared round a curve and then climbed his own mount. "Just can't figure him, Cactus," he mused, "but I'm bettin' high he's—straight.”
Sudden's demeanour when he reached Dugout was anything but that of a fugitive. He procured the needed meal at Black Sam's, and learned that though the raid on the ranches was the one subject of conversation, his own supposed share in it was not known. This was fortunate, the town being indignant at the spoliation of its two best customers.
“Couple o' hundred head at one lick," Jansen said. "Real money, that is. I'll wager Keith is some difficult to live with."
“He's takin' it hard," the puncher admitted.
“Beats me why him an' Merry don't team up an' drive them rats out'n their hole," Naylor remarked. "Some of us would give a hand."
“Ever bin in Hell City?" Birt asked. "I have---on business," he added hastily. " 'Less yo're a bird, there's but two ways in, an' four men with rifles would hold the pair of 'em agin ten times their number.”
Sudden left them arguing, and rode in the direction of the place he had been warned to avoid. He was less than half-way when he met Miss Dalroy, riding a horse he recognized. At the sight of him she pulled up, anger and scorn in her eyes.
“You are going back?" she cried.
“Shore looks thataway," he replied, and then, "So he lets yu ride his hoss? He's a beauty—the hoss, I mean.”
He leant over and stroked the shiny muzzle, his hand straying upwards, pushing the short hair aside to find traces of white paint at the roots.
“I tried to see the Chief night afore last," he said casually. "Silver said he warn't there.”
She looked sharply at him. "What are you trying to find out?”
He shrugged. "Just whether it was an excuse or not. There can't be any mystery 'bout his movements, anyway, an'yo're forgettin'--this." He pointed to the badge he had donned after leaving Dugout.
“He was abroad," she admitted. "If you had any sense at all you'd throw that thing away and—ride."
“Why not take yore own advice?" he smiled. "What keeps yu in Hell City?"
“The reason we all have—necessity," she replied, and in a burst of bitterness, "I killed a brute, and because I was a woman, they called it murder and would have hanged me; at the best, it meant a life sentence. Jeff contrived my escape, and brought me here."
“One good deed to his credit."
“Don't think it. Many of his men owe him the same debt, and that gives him absolute power over them."
“Ever seen him without the mask?" Sudden asked casually.
“No, but once he showed me a photograph; it was signed `Jefferson Keith.' "
“Odd that a fella should hide his face from the woman he cares for," the puncher murmured. "Shucks, I shouldn't 'a' said that; musta been thinkin' aloud.”
Her laugh did not ring true. "If you're meaning me, you'd better think again," she said scornfully. "I'm just his property, to pet or punish at his pleasure. He is incapable of any passion, save hate, and to satisfy that will stoop to the vilest deeds, and yet ..." she broke off with an impatient gesture, and then, "In some way you have offended him." She saw his little smile of tolerance, and touched her horse with the spur. "Oh, well, a wilful man must learn his lesson."
“I'm shore grateful, ma'am," he said gravely, and resumed his journey.
Apart from proof that Satan was in the plot to discredit him at the Double K he had discovened nothing. Belle Dalroy he had already classed as a fugitive from the law. Wayward, im petuous, and quick-tempered, she was not to be trusted. He smiled thinly at the thought that in this place to which he was going there was not one person on whom he could rely. The woman, Anita, perhaps, but promises made in the stress of emotion were not wont to be lasting. He consoled himself with a philosophical reflection:
“Playin' a lone hand has one good point—yu on'y got yoreself to worry about.”
CHAPTER XV
Satan welcomed the puncher with a satirical smile. "Back so soon?" he cried.
“Yeah. Don't tell me yo're surprised."
“I said yesterday that you would be. I take it they were not pleased to see you at the Double K?"
“Pleased don't express it; I was a dream come true. I had to tear myself away," Sudden told him. "Why, Steve wanted to waste a new rope on me.”
He gave an account of his escape, and the change in the masked man's expression was amazing.
“I told him you were not to be harmed," he rapped out. "Damn his soul, he's getting " He stopped, conscious of betraying himself, and then, "Well, it doesn't matter, no hurt was done. Still, it's a pity you stole those cows."
“So I did take 'em?"
“Certainly, so far as the country round is concerned, and my men believe the same," came the cool reply. "You see, I wanted to make sure of you, Sudden, and as this is now the only place where you will be safe, I think I've done it. Do you follow me?"
“I'm treadin' close on yore heels."
“I credit you with courage and intelligence. I need such a man to be my
“Pardner?"
“Right hand, I was about to say, but it may lead to the other. Those animals outside can execute but are incapable of thinking, for me or for themselves. You will take orders from me, and they from you."
“I'm a stranger; mebbe they won't stand for that."
“Are those guns of yours ornaments?" was the cynical query. "There is only one man who may prove really awkward, since you will be succeeding him."
“Ain't meanin' Steve, are yu?"
“That clod?" Satan sneered. "No, this is a fellow called `Butch'—short for butcher, I imagine, he being a slayer of some note. Have you heard of him?”
Despite the indifferent tone, the puncher was aware of the other's scrutiny.
“Not any," he replied nonchalantly.
“I shall leave you to deal with him, as you choose," the bandit said meaningly. "He is in the town now. You understand?"
“Why don't yu tell him to pull his freight?" Sudden asked bluntly.
“Knowing what he does, he would be a menace. Also, I need someone to take his place, and that someone must be the better man. Now do you see?”
Sudden did, all too clearly; he had again been jockeyed into false position. Butch, a dangerous tool who had transgressed, must be got rid of, and he—probably regarded in the same light, was to do the work. He could see no way out, save to abandon his mission.
“I get yu," he said.
“Right. How about quarters?"
“The saloon ain't so bad. Don't cotton much to these holes in the ground; make me feel like a gopher."
“One gets used to them.”
Sudden glanced round. "Yu oughta be middlin' comfortable," he said. "That's a han'some picture.”
Standing on the floor, where the light was poorest, he hadnot noticed it on his previous visits. A large canvas, depicted the life-size figure of a gunman. The half-crouch pointing pistol, and malignant expression on the face, produced an amazing effect of reality.
“The subject should appeal to you."
“Yeah," Sudden agreed. "The gun is wrong—he'd be dead afore he got it that high. Allasame, it's mighty clever---I could 'a' sworn I saw the eyes move.”
Satan laughed. "That's a common illusion," he returned. "Well, I wish you luck."
“The fella who depends on luck has a poor pardner," the cowboy said, and went out.
A few moments passed and then the masked man said quietly, "You can come out, Butch.”
In response to the invitation, a man emerged from behind the picture. His appearance was not formidable. Untended, greying hair showed beneath his slouched hat, a black coat hung loosely from his rounded shoulders, giving him a pronounced stoop. But his lined, dissipated face, with its bloodless lips and heavy-lidded eyes, told a different tale. Here was one to whom cruelty was a commonplace, who would slay without compunction.
“So that's the pilgrim?" he asked. "Why didn't you let me salivate him right away; it would 'a' bin easy."
“Yes, too easy—for him," \the Chief retorted. "I could have done that myself, but I want him shamed before others, beaten at his own game. Let him see death coming, and wait for it, suffering those few seconds of agony which turn a man into a white-livered cur and make him sweat blood. Do you understand?”
His voice trembled with the virulence of his passion, and it made Butch think a little. "Yeah," he said slowly. "You mean you don't like him—much, but has it occurred to you that he might get me?”
Satan's expression was an insult. "You don't expect to pick up five hundred dollars without some risk, I suppose?" he said coldly. "Of course, if he's quicker than you ...”
The gunman leered. "I guess not, but you hadn't mentioned the dinero," he replied. "Well, that's fixed; I'll be on my way." He had a word as he went, "Hell, t'o're a good hater, ain't you?”
Had he heard the valediction which followed him he would have been less satisfied with the vile bargain he had made.
“Yes, I'm a good hater," Satan repeated. "Go, you dog, and kill or be killed; either way, I gain.”
* * * Sudden was glad to find himself in the sunlight; he had meant what he said—these dismal caverns in the rock, the homes of a dead and gone race, depressed him, and the interview had intensified this feeling. He smiled mirthlessly as he recalled the incident of the picture; there had been no illusion, the moving eyes were those of a hidden marksman, ready to shoot him down at a sign. He did not suspect it was the man he had to meet, and—subdue, but it warned him that the bandit was not taking risks regarding his own safety.
“An' two-three times I came near to puffin' on him," he reflected ruefully. "Oughta guessed that dealin' with the scum he has to he'd have a card up his sleeve. If `fools for luck' is right, I must be a prize specimen.”
He spent the rest of the day loafing about the town, watching, listening, but he learned nothing until the evening when, returning to the saloon, a whisper came to him out of the gloom.
“A bad man is here. If he falls foul of you, remember that his right hand is the dangerous one.”
The voice was Anita's, and he realized that he was passingthe place where she lived. But he could see no one, and with a word of thanks, he went on. The caution could only refer to Butch.
He entered the saloon from the rear, and in the seclusion of his room, examined his guns, reloading them with fresh cartridges from his belt, and spinning the cylinders; his life might depend on their being in perfect order. He did not want to kill this man, and if possible, he would avoid the encounter, but ..
The bar was well patronized, most of those present being men. The few exceptions were of the type common in the cattle-towns, brazen, loud-voiced, gaudlly attired creatures who had followed hunted men into hiding, or had been driven into it by their own misdeeds. The atmosphere was hazy with tobacco smoke and reeked of liquor and kerosene.
With his back against the bar, Sudden surveyed the scene with apparent indifference, but his eyes were alert. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, but in one corner, Scar and his cronies were playing poker. He could see no one likely to be the man he was expecting.
“Business 'pears to be boomin'," he remarked to the proprietor. "Any particular reason?”
At that moment, a half-tipsy reveller raised his glass and shouted, "Here's to the Double K.”
The toast produced a burst of raucous laughter, and a cry of "Don't forget the Twin Diamond."
“There's yore answer," Dirk replied. "The Chief pays prompt.”
Nevertheless, the cowboy had a conviction that this did not explain things; an air of expectancy, frequent furtive glances at the door and himself, suggested that the crowd had not come solely to spend ill-gotten gains. The saloon-keeper's wife called her husband from the exit leading to the rear of the premises. When he returned he said: "There's a fella at the back askin' for you.”
Sudden went out, but not too hurriedly, for it might be a trap. He found young Holt, alone, and bursting with his news.
“Bin lookin' for you all over," he began. "They aim to git you to-night in there—a gunman named Butch has come a-purpose. Muley got drunk this arternoon an' he's bin tellin' everybody to come to yore funeral."
“I'm thankin' yu," Sudden said. "But what can I do?”
“Keep out'n his way," Holt said eagerly. "you can hide—”
The grim smile stopped him. "Never look for trouble, son," the puncher replied, "but when it's lookin' for yu there's on'y one thing to do—stand up an' face it."
“But you ain't got a chance—they say he never misses," the lad urged.
“The best of 'em is liable to slip up once, an' that's aplenty. It was right kind o' yu to come."
“You stood up for me," Holt muttered, and, as he turned to go, "I hope you git him."
“I hope I don't have to," Sudden replied gravely. Returning to the saloon, he declined to have his glass replenished, contenting himself with a cigar. He had no more than lighted it when the buzz of conversation abruptly ceased as a black-coated, stooping figure flung back the swing-door and walked slowly to the bar. The effect of his entry upon the company told that this was the man for whom they were waiting.
Sudden absorbed every detail as he advanced; the poor physique and malevolent features interested him not at all, but the one gun, slung on the left hip, did. It suggested a left-handed marksman, but the woman had warned him against the right. Moreover, the butt of the weapon was turned backinstead of forward, as would have been the case had the wearer intended to use the other hand. He had seen gunmen who did that, but it was an awkward method. Then his eyes hardened and his teeth shut like a vice; he had solved the problem.
Meanwhile Butch had reached the bar and called for drink. He poured himself a modest dose, tossed it down his throat, and turned his half-shrouded, reptilian eyes upon the lounging form of his quarry, a few yards distant.
“What you think o' this liquor?" he asked.
“Pretty good," was the quiet answer.
“I say it's damned bad," Butch snarled. "So now what?”
“Matter o' taste, I s'pose," the cowboy said. "Anyways, I ain't sellin' it.”
A sinister silence ensued; gamblers ceased their games, and men forgot to drink as they watched a duel which they knew could end only in one way. The mild snub, however, had produced a snigger which died swiftly when Butch glared towards the spot from whence it came. Then he turned his rancorous gaze on the man he had undertaken to destroy.
“One o' them funny fellas, huh?" he sneered. "You carry a couple o' guns, too, I see."
“Yore sight ain't deceivin' yu.”
There were professional gunmen who had to flog themselves into a fury to arrive at the point of killing; others simulated anger with the object of flurrying an opponent into a false move. Butch belonged to neither class; he slew with the cold deliberation of one pursuing his trade, and the inoffensive demeanour of his victim aroused in him merely a feeling of contempt. Sudden knew that a clash was inevitable but he would do nothing to provoke it.
“I've put ten hombres outa business an' eight of 'em toted a pair o' sixes," Butch announced loudly. "I allus call a two-gun bluff." His frowning stare fastened upon the puncher.
“Shuck yore belt an' git down on yore knees, you sonof-a—" he barked.
The insult was deadly, and every eye in the room turned on the man at whom it had been hurled, still leaning easily against the bar. Breathlessly they waited for him to speak. Tense seconds, pregnant with menace, ticked by, and then the lolling figure slowly straightened, as though to obey the shameful command.
“Gawd, he's goin' to take it," whispered a card-player.
The neighbour to whom he spoke shook his head; the narrowed, ice-cold eyes were not those of a quitter.
“Yu can go plumb to hell," the puncher said contemptuously.
Another silence, for the killer, too, had not expected defiance. Then he rasped, "I'm sendin' you on ahead.”
Vicious face thrust forward, shoulders hunched, his left hand moved in the direction of his holster, but not swiftly. Sudden's right, fingers outspread, was dropping over his gun-butt when the other's right hand flashed upwards to his arm-pit, whipped a second weapon from beneath the black coat, and fired.
A woman's scream was followed by a gasp of amazement from the spectators. They had heard but one report, yet it was Butch who lurched blindly, gave at the knees, and slumped heavily to the floor. One spasmodic attempt to raise the pistol still gripped in his nerveless fingers, and that was the end. Then they noticed that blue smoke was wisping from the cowboy's left hip, and that there was a red streak along one cheek. Sudden gave a glance at the man he had been compelled to kill, sheathed his revolver, and wiped the warm smear from his smarting face.
“It ain't but a scratch," he said, when the saloon-keeper offered to tend it. "That was a cute move, goin' for the other gun; it mighty near fooled me.”
Morbid curiosity brought the crowd pushing and jostling one another to get a glimpse of the dead man. Among them was Scar, who thrust a way through, took one look, and with a malicious leer at the cowboy, said: "I reckon the Chief'll want to hear o' this."
“Yu needn't to worry, Roden," Sudden said quietly. "I'll carry the news myself."
“Since when do we take orders from you?" the fellow scowled.
“From now on," the puncher retorted.
“I'll see you in--”
He was given no time to finish. Sudden took a long stride, gripped his throat, shook him till his head rocked on his shoulders, and flung him away so forcibly that a table he collided with collapsed utterly. Lying amongst the fragments, he looked up into a blood-stained face, the fierce eyes in which conveyed a plain message. Scar read it, and having no desire to die, forgot that he had a gun.
“No ideas?" the cowboy gibed. "Yo're shorely wise." He faced the evil throng. "Listen: the Chief has put me in charge—after hisself. Any one o' yu who ain't satisfied can speak up now, an' leave Hell City by sunrise.”
Deliberately turning his back, he stepped to the bar. He knew that if they chose to call his bluff he could be overwhelmed in a few minutes, but he was gambling on their fear of Satan, and now, of himself. Violence was the only argument they understood, and his prompt and savage scotching of Scar's incipient mutiny would impress them more than anything else. No one spoke until that worthy arose from the débris of the table, and with a poor effort at a grin, said: "You win, Sudden; I'm stayin' put. What the Chief sez, goes, for all of us, I guess; if he's give you Butch's job, there ain't no more to say.”
The others appeared to accept this decision, and the cowboy nodded to the man behind the bar.
“Good enough," he said. "The drinks are on me; we'll celebrate my promotion.”
Scar drank with the rest, but Sudden had no faith in the ruffian's submission. He had remained in Hell City because he was afraid to leave it, or, more possibly, to await an opportunity of squaring his account with one who had bested him three times. The body of the gunman was removed, and the saloon soon presented its customary appearance. The puncher remained for a while, and then, having bathed the graze on his cheek, went to see Satan.
“So you—won?" was the greeting he received.
“Not much of a guess, seein' I'm here," he replied.
“Only fools guess," Satan said, his gaze dwelling on the livid mark of the killer's bullet. "He almost got you."
“I was a mite careless," Sudden admitted. "Posin' as a one-gun man an' usin' a hide-out ain't nothin' new, but it would trick some."
“Was it necessary to beat up Roden?"
“Shore, he was insolent. If I gotta handle these fellas they have to understand I can do it. Scar can figure hisself lucky not to be travellin' the one-way trail after Butch; I was in the mood.”
The bullying air did not blind the bandit to the fact that this man who had beaten Butch might be a braggart, but was also dangerous, and likely to be—difficult. Yes, that was the word. Well, there were ways ... He glanced almost involuntarily at the picture behind which the dead gunman had stood only a few hours earlier. Sudden saw the look.
“Gives me the creeps, that paintin' o' yores," he remarked. "Him there with his six-shooter trained on me allatlme. D'yu mind if I put a coupla pills through his eyes, just to show him?"
“I certainly do mind," was the instant reply. "I have fondness for that canvas, it is a work of art, and bullet-holes wouldn't improve it.”
Sudden laughed; he had noted the gleam of apprehension in the dull eyes, and it told him that his suspicion was correct—the Chief was well protected.
“Shucks, I was on'y joshin'," he said. "Sold them steers I stole?”
Satan looked sharply at him, but the cowboy's expression was serious. "Not yet, the beasts must be worked on first," he replied.
“I'm pretty good at blottin' brands."
“No doubt, but that can wait—the herd is in a safe place. Are you short of money?"
“Not any," Sudden assured him, adding with a grin, "Them Double K boys don't know the first thing 'bout poker.”
He came away from the interview conscious of two failures. The attack on Scar had been intended, mainly, to drive the man and his intimates from Hell City, thus weakening the bandit force. His enquiry about the cattle was inspired by the hope of a hint as to their whereabouts, but Satan was giving nothing away. Well, he must find them.
Others also were concerned about the stolen stock, though they knew where it was to be found. Roden, and his three shadows, sitting round a table in the saloon, were ostensibly playing poker, but the game was but an excuse for a conference. And, naturally, Sudden was the subject of the discussion.
“There ain't room in Hell City for him an' us," Scar said. "We gotta down the—."
“Yeah, an' make a quick getaway," Squint added. "Even if he don't know—an' there ain't much he misses—the Chief will pin it on to us, an' we ain't too popular in that quartc just now."
“For which we gotta thank that cursed cowpunch," Coger said.
“We'll thank him—our own way," Scar growled. "I'd like to see Muley take the flesh off'n him in strips. The point is, we don't wanta go empty-handed."
“You said it all," Daggs agreed. "The Chief must have a lot o' coin hid up in his place. What about us interviewin' him, strictly private, an'—”
Scar's scornful laugh cut him short. "Ever seen him play with a gun? Thought not. I'm tellin' you, he's better than Butch or Sudden. One bright fella tried yore idea an' was dead before he could pull. Besides, there's allus Silver behind you. No, gents, that flea won't jump. Also, I know a safer dodge—the cattle.”
Daggs, who was dealing, slapped the pack on the table with an expression of approval. "Scar, yo're a great man," he said. "There's on'y them two Mex boys in charge."
“Git the herd away to a safe place where we can lie doggo for a spell, change the brands, drive north, an' sell," Scar went on.
“The Chief'll think the Double K has stole 'em back," Squint chortled. "Won't he be wild?"
“That's a good notion—we'll make it look thataway," Scar greed. "I'll mosey over to-morrow an' sound the Greasers—they's pretty sore over Pedro gettin' his. If they'll throw in with us, we can use 'em; it's a big bunch to handle."
“Shore is, but it means splittin' the dinero six ways," Coger objected.
“Does it?" the other retorted meaningly. "Four of a kind allus beats a pair.”
Which promised ill for the Mexican herders.
CHAPTER XVI
“Wonder what's fetched that hombre out'n his blankets this early?”
Sudden, peering through the grimy panes of the saloon window, watched Roden ride past, evidently making for the western exit of the town.
“Looks like he's changed his mind 'bout leavin' us after all. Anyways, time spent watching him won't ever be wasted.”
Devoutly thankful for a meal already eaten, he secured his rifle and saddle, and in a few moments, was on his way. The guardian of the gate regarded him with respect and lost not an instant in opening; the man who had slain Butch was not to be kept waiting.
“Yep, Scar's just ahead," he said in reply to a question. "Which road? There ain't but one till you come to the fork, an' you'll catch him afore then.”
The puncher had his own opinion about this, but he made a show of haste until the first bend afforded concealment, dropping then to a more leisurely pace; Scar had not appeared to be in any hurry. Fortunately for his purpose, curves in the trail—a mere shelf along the mountainside—were frequent, enabling him to approach his quarry unseen. Presently he saw that they were nearing the fork, the left prong of which headed westwards into the hills. Hidden behind a jutting spur of rock, he waited until Scar had swung into it, and then followed. It proved to be a mere bridle-track, winding amongst miniature mountalns, through brush-cluttered ravines and thickets of birch and scrub-oak. Only at rare intervals did he get a glimpse of the man in front, but this did not worry him; the path was plain.
The miles fell behind and Sudden was beginning to speculate as to whether the ruffian was really bidding farewell to Hell City when he noticed they were climbing again. Through a break in the trees he could see that the ascent ended in a ragged rim of bare rock like the broken battlements of a great fortress, the approach to which was masked by a scanty covering of mesquite, catclaw, and other thorny growths.
He waited until he saw Scar disappear behind a boulder and then toiled laboriously up the slope. It took longer than he expected, for the trail twisted serpent-like around patches )f cactus, the dreaded cholla, its cruel spines glistening frostily in the sunshine. Arrived at the top, he saw a breach in the stone rampart, and through it, a scene which drew from him a low whistle of wonderment.
Before him lay an almost circular hollow, thickly carpeted with grass, and divided by a line of willows which indicated a running stream, from which the ground rose gently at first, and then steeply, to a saw-toothed ring of grey cliff. The place, as he learned later, was known as the Devil's Bowl, and me look told him that it was an ideal spot from a rustler's point of view. So the presence of a herd of cattle, grazing near _he water, did not surprise him. He was too far away to decipher the brands.
“Must be over five hundred head," he muttered.
He watched Roden ride along the side of the valley to a log shack built in the shade of a group of pines, heard his hail, and aw two men run out to meet him. Their attire told him they vere Mexicans, and the visitor appeared to be welcome, the nore so when on dismounting, he produced a couple of bottles from his saddle-bags, for one of them slapped his comrade on the back. Seating themselves on a grassy bankoutside the hut the three fell to drinking. Sudden could see no way of overhearing the conversation, and having learned what he wanted, left them to it.
Instead of taking the back trail he worked southwards round the Bowl, and presently, as he had expected, came upon a cattle-track leading up to another break in the wall of the valley. He noted that all the hoof-prints pointed in one direction—towards the hiding-place; this was where the stolen steers had been brought in, and therefore ... A humorous quirk creased the corners of his mouth as he urged his mount along the tell-tales traces.
“Step lively, Nig," he said. "We've a fine chance to give Mister Satan a kick where he sits if that Twin Diamond fella ain't dippy.”
For an hour he followed the trodden road, which ran through low hills like a carelessly flung rope, winding this way and that, to avoid obstacles likely to hinder the progress of a herd, and came to a broad stretch of powdery sand, the surface swept smooth by the wind; on the edge of this the hoof-prints ceased abruptly.
This diminutive desert was not extensive, for he could see more hills and broken country on the far side, but it was big enough to make the task of finding where the cattle had entered it a long and tiring one. The puncher decided it was not worth while, and skirting the arid area, headed for where he believed the Twin Diamond ranch to be. Mile after mile he rode, trusting to his plainsman's sense of direction, and presently pulled up outside the dilapidated homestead. His shout brought its owner to the door, a pistol in one hand, an oily rag in the other. At the sight of the gun the visitor's eyes narrowed.
“Just cleanin' her up," the rancher explained. "Thought I reckernized the hoss but there's other blacks in this neck o' the woods. Light an' help yoreself to a seat.”
He laid his weapon on the bench as he spoke. Sudden got down and trailed his reins.
“Do yu allus clean a gun when she's loaded?" he asked sardonically.
“Me, I'm a poor liar," Merry laughed. "Fact is, I warn't just lookin' for yu to call—yu left us a shade abrupt the other night."
“My neck suits me the way it is, an' I don't reckon Keith can improve it any."
“Yu can take it I ain't got no ambition thataway. What's yore errand?"
“I thought mebbe yu'd like to get yore cows back.”
The other's face grew hard. "Double-crossin' yore new boss, huh?" he said, and when the cowboy's eyebrows rose, "Yo're wearin' his brand."
“Shore forgot that, an' yu'd better do the same—I ain't explainin'," Sudden shrugged. "If yu want the steers, I can tell yu where to find 'em."
“What's yore price?" the rancher asked.
The puncher stood up. "I allowed yu had sense, which is why I took a chance an' came here. Yu can go to blazes."
“Wait a minute," Merry cried. "I take that back. I guess I'm thick in the head as well as body, but I don't savvy yore game."
“Keith hired me to fight Hell City, an' when things looked ugly he turned me down—cold," Sudden pointed out. "I didn't know about the rustlin' till I heard it from him—as yu said just now, there's other black hosses around. Well, he may be finished with me, but I ain't finished with the fella who framed me."
“I get yu," Merry replied, after a moment's pause. "Ken is a square man but he can't help rememberin' he was once a little Gawd A'mighty on his plantation. Where are the cattle?”
Sudden described the spot and his journey to the Twin Diamond in detail. The fat man nodded understandingly.
“That's clear; they're usin' the Devil's Bowl, an' it's one damned good place for the purpose, too. Five hundred head, yu say, an' all wearin' Ken's brand or mine, I'll bet a stack."
“I couldn't get near enough to see."
“On'y two Greasers in charge, huh? Why, it'll be easy as takin' a drink, which reminds me ..." He shouted an order, and at once the pigtailed cook appeared with bottle and glasses. "Here's how," he toasted, adding, "This'll put yu right with Ken."
“I'll he obliged if yu don't mention me," Sudden said. "He needn't to know how yu got wind o' the herd.”
“But, damn it all, man, he thinks “
The puncher smiled coldly. "What he thinks ain't lost me any sleep so far, an' I'd ruther he warn't told."
“Well, have it yore way."
“Yu'll need to strike quick," Sudden warned. "Roden's visit may mean the herd is to be moved."
“We'll start in less'n an hour—with on'y two to handle there'll be no need to trouble Ken." He pushed out a paw. "I'm obliged to yu—Jim. If yu get in a tight place, an' can send word, we'll be along.”
Sudden thanked him, and set out on his return to Hell City with a feeling of grim satisfaction; he had prepared a blow for the bandit chief and found another friend. From the first he had liked this tubby little man, with the twinkling, genial eyes, and his support meant a great deal.
Soon after sunrise on the following morning, a ragged, hatless Mexican limped wearily through the western entrance to Hell City, staggered into the saloon, and demanded drink. He gulped a stiff dose of the fiery spirit, poured another, his hand shaking with fatigue, and sat down with a sigh of relief. Sudden, who had been chatting with the proprietor, surveyed him with interest.
“Yu 'pear to be all in, amigo," he remarked. "Come far?" The traveller shook his head. "A short way is a long way sometime, senor," he replied. "My hoss, she break de leg.”
“Tough luck," the puncher commiserated.
At that moment Roden entered, and his eyes went wide when he saw the stranger. "Hello, Benito, what you doin' here?" he asked.
The Mexican drew him aside and spoke in a sibilant whisper. Sudden heard the muttered "Damnation!" and read the look of dismay and disappointment Benito's news evoked. He needed no second guess; the Twin Diamond had hit back, and, anxious to see how Satan would receive the reverse, he went out.
“Mebbe that fairy godmother o' his has told him all about it," was his whimsical reflection.
Evidently this was not the case, for he found the bandit leader in a good humour. He was reading a newspaper—one of those crude journalistic products of the pioneer days of which a settlement of any size boasted at least one example. The perusal seemed to afford him satisfaction.
“Hark to this, Sudden," he greeted. " `Another of those infamous outrages which blot the fair page of Western history.' That is how the Bosville Bugle refers to the looting of the local bank. It appears to have been very simple. Four strangers rode in and two of them entered the building. A shot was heard, the men emerged carrying a leathern satchel, mounted, and the whole party galloped away before the good citizens began to think. The cashier dead, with an undischarged pistol in his hand—he was clearly a fool—a rifled safe, and thirty thousand in cash and bills missing. As easy as that.”
There was a pronounced sneer on his lips. He tapped the paper on his knee. "The nit-wit who conducts this mangy sheet adds, `This is an addition to the many similar daylight robberies which have disturbed the country during the past twelve months. What is the Governor going to do about it?' I can tell him: the Governor will do just—nothing. The sheriff and his blundering posse will lose the trail, as usual, and we shall turn the trick again elsewhere. My plans are well laid; I never fail.”
The last three words moved the puncher to inward mirth; a contradiction was coming.
“Thirty thousand is a sizeable stake," he remarked. "S'pose them fellas decide to glom on to it?”
The stony eyes gleamed. "No man ever double-crossed me an got away with it," Satan said. "One who tried reached Montana; another, Kansas City; a third, Tucson—under the Governor's nose, but they all died—swiftly. These men know that I possess the power to find them, and fear will make them honest—to me."
“They're takin' their time; Bosville ain't so far, is it?”
“About fifty miles, but certain enquiries would necessitate a roundabout route, and possibly, delay.”
Sudden would have liked more definite information, but his hope of obtaining it vanished when Silver ushered in Benito.
“Said he'd gotta see you right away," the dwarf rumbled.
The Mexican did not wait to be questioned, blurting out his news in short, spasmodic sentences, as though anxious to get the ordeal over. The herd had gone—a dozen Twin Diamond riders had raided the valley, and, after shooting his companion, had rounded up and driven away the cattle. He was distant from the camp, had seen them arrive, and escaped by hiding in the rocks. Trembling with fright, the man ceased his mumble and waited for the storm to break.
He was not kept long. 1 he Chief's face, schooled so carefully to stoic indifference, became insensate with fury. Snatching out a gun, he levelled it at the shivering wretch.
“You have lost my cows and made me a figure of fun," he hissed. "Well, for that you—die.”
He was on the point of pulling the trigger when Sudden spoke.
“That's a mighty poor remedy. What d'yu expect a couple o' men to do against the Twin Diamond outfit? This fella had the guts to come an' tell yu; he could 'a' travelled the other way just as easy.”
The sarcastic tone brought the bandit to his senses; he realized that he had betrayed himself. Replacing his weapon he said sternly, "This time I spare you, but speak so much as one word ..." He tapped the butt of his gun suggestively, and added, "Get out.”
With a furtive glance of gratitude to the man who had saved him, Benito departed hurriedly. Satan turned to his companion.
“I should not have killed the cur, but I had to frighten him," he lied. "It is maddening to have been outplayed by that overfed hog, Merry. Someone must have betrayed me."
“Then yu oughta know—bein' a kind o' medicine man," was the ironical reply.
“True," Satan said, and putting one hand to his brow, sat in silence. Then he looked up. "Why did you do it, Sudden?”
The puncher grinned. "That's a bad miss," he replied. "Keith havin' tried to string me up, I'd naturally be eager to give him back his property, wouldn't I? An' yu can add to that I didn't know where to look for it. No, sir, I'd say one o' Merry's men happened on the tracks by accident; cows ain't got wings, yu savvy."
“You may be right, but I shall know," Satan said. "Well, the fat fool wins—this time, but he'll live to be sorry.”
Sudden came away with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Ile had a plan, but to put it into operation he must have help, and promptly went in search of it. This took him to the northern extremity of the Double K range.
Frosty, perspiring and lurid-tongued, was engaged in an endeavour to drive a steer out of a patch of cactus scrub which it seemed loth to leave when a derisive voice from behind advised him to pick up the beast and carry it out. He whirled his pony to find Sudden enjoying his efforts.
“Any idjut can look on an' laff," he greeted. "Why don't yu do somethin', yu perishin'—ornament?"
“The Double K has dispensed with my services," Sudden reminded. "Anybody out here with yu?"
“Nope. Steve don't think it matters if I'm bumped off. Did yu hear we got our cows back?”
His friend's eyes twinkled. "I was told the Twin Diamond made yu a present of'em."
“Well, it amounted to that, an' the 01' Man is hoppin' mad —didn't like Merry's outfit gettin' ahead of us. I heard him give Steve his opinion, an' he made hisself plain."
“He's hard to please. yu got the natural increase, too."
“Yu bet. Why, in that short while the herd had more'n doubled, an' the curious thing was, the calves had all been born branded an' grooved to full size. Ain't Nature wonderful?"
“Shore is," Sudden agreed gravely. "How would the Double K like to give Mister Satan a jolt?"
“Try us," Frosty urged, adding slyly, "Anyways, it's our turn, ain't it?"
“Smart lad, huh?" the other grinned.
“Pickles! I know that Twin Diamond bunch—blind as bats. S'pose yu had to use 'ein, but don't tell me—"
“I won't, yore mouth opens easy as a saloon door. Now listen." He told what he had learned of the bank robbery.
“It will have to be a private play, just yu an' Lazy—they won't know there's on'y two o' yu. Say yo're goin' to Dugout. I'd take a hand but I gotta be where I can be seen. I'm guessin' them jaspers will arrive this evenin' an' use the west gate. If I'm wrong, yu'll be outa luck."
“Shore will, with the nights cold as they is," his friend said feelingly. "But if they do show up?"
“Short o' Hell City there's a split in the trail, with plenty cover; yu can stand 'em up there. One o' yu can heave their hardware into the brush, collect the cash—it'll be in a leather bag—an' stampede the hosses, while the other keeps 'em covered. By the time they've hoofed it into town, yu'll be past pursuit. Take the plunder to Merry an' tell him to send it by a shore hand to the Bosville sheriff. Yu sabe?"
“Sounds simple," Frosty lied cheerfully, and then, "Thirty thousand is a wad o' money. Yu could swipe it yore-self, head for California, an'—"
“Be the skunk the world tried to make me," Sudden finished. "No, yu snow-topped calamity, I'm workin' for somethin' more than easy money."
“It's devilish risky," Frosty offered. "If Satan learns he's been sold out by a man in his pay
“Back up," Sudden broke in. "Get this into the knob yu put yore hat on: I've never had a nickel from him an' ain't goin' to. Now, so long, an' good luck for to-night.”
With puzzled eyes the Double K rider watched him disappear into a near-by ravine. "He shore has got me guessin'," he ruminated. "Passes up a chance to hive thirty thousand bucks, won't take no pay, an'—hell, it gives me a headache. I hope them bank-busters drift in." He smote his pony a flat-handed smack on the rump and sat easily rocking in the saddle while the outraged animal expressed disapproval in a mild bout of bucking. "G'wan, yu son of a wall-eyed mule, we got a li'l jape to put over an' it's goin' to be fun.”
That the "li'l jape" had been duly "put over" Sudden got news in the morning, when Silver arrived at the saloon with an urgent summons from the Chief.
“He's wantin' you immediate," he objected, when the puncher casually promised to come along. "I gotta take you back, or he'll skin me. All het up, he is—never seed him so rathy."
“What's the trouble?" Sudden enquired.
“Guess he'll tell you hisself," was the cautious reply. "Best watch yore step, an' keep yore han's still.”
Sudden thought little of the warning, but later he was to remember it. The bandit chief was pacing savagely up and down. At the sight of the puncher he stopped and snapped:
“Where did you spend last night?”
Sudden looked surprised. "In Dirk's," he said. "Takin' the wool off some o' yore lambs who fancied they could play poker; it cost them near a hundred good dollars to learn different. Easy pickin's, I'm tellin' yu."
“How long were you there?"
“All the evenin'. Cashed in after midnight—got tired o' slaughterin' the innocents—an' hit the hay. What's bitin' yu?”
Through the slits in the mask, the fierce eyes bored into the puncher's impassive face.
“I've been robbed," Satan said vehemently. "You alone knew those men were due from Bosville."
“Yu didn't tell me when or which way they'd come. Ain't they arrived?"
“Yes, on foot, with a tale of being held up, money and weapons taken, and horses driven off.”
Sudden whistled. "Sounds a bit lame, but mebbe they're feelin' thataway, having walked," he grinned, and got a glare which did not disturb him. "S'pose they've cached the stuff—"
“Then why come back at all?" Satan interjected.
“If they can make their story stick, they'd have nothin' to fear from yu.”
The masked man shook his head; conceit would not permit the thought that any of his underlings would dare so far.
“Another thing, I reckon yu ain't the on'y subscriber to that Bosville paper. Some fellas may've seen it, an' guessed right."
“I doubt if there is another copy within twenty miles. You seem very anxlous to pin the blame on someone.”
Sudden's reply was a question, "Did the hold-up happen before midnight?" and when the other nodded, he went on, "What more do yu want? There's on'y one o' me, an' twenty of yore own men can tell yu where I was. Have some sense.”
With an air of disgust, he reached for his "makings" and stepped back just as a gun roared and a bullet chipped the stone wall behind the spot where he had been standing. In a flash his own weapons were out, one covering the bandit, the other the picture, wreathing smoke from which showed whence the shot had come.
“What the hell's the meanin' o' that?" he grated.
The masked man stood motionless. "I don't know," he said calmly. "Silver!”
The uncouth attendant slid into view, a smoking pistol in one shaking hand. "I was just cleanin' her an' she done went off," he stammered. "I warn't meanin' no harm."
“You might have killed one of us; I'll deal with you later," his master said threateningly. "Quite an accident, you see, Sudden. The lout knows nothing of firearms, but will carry one."
“Yeah," Sudden replied, and stepped nearer the painting. "Why, if yu ain't lucky; the bullet came right through the muzzle o' the gun so the picture ain't hurt none; can't see the hole less yu look close.”
Satan could detect no raillery in the voice and again found himself debating whether he was dealing with a clever man or a fool. He expressed his surprise at the remarkable coincidence.
“Comin' back to cases, I'm reckoned pretty useful at readin' sign," Sudden said. "The scene o' the holdup might tell me somethin'—if I can find it."
“The men said it took place where the road from the west gate divides," Satan replied.
“Ain't been so far in that direction," the puncher said easily. "I'll let yu know if I hit on anythin'." On his way out, he slapped Silver on the shoulder and cried, "Cheer up, Beautiful, a miss is as good as a mile, yu know.”
Which boisterous exit left the bandit deeper in doubt than ever, and did not improve his temper. With a bitter oath, he vented his spleen on the one object available.
“Come here, you clumsy clown," he called. "What possessed you to fire without the signal?”
Silver lumbered forward, his ungainly form trembling. "Guessed he was goin' for his gun," he quavered. "Was scared he'd git you."
“Get me?" was the retort. "Did you think I was asleep? He's fast, but I could beat him. You have made me ridiculous —he was laughing at me, damn him. Another break like that and Muley shall take the flesh from your ugly, misshapen carcase and feed what is left to the coyotes. Get out of my sight, you freak.”
Long ago he had learned that reference to his deformities cut the poor brute to the heart, and he delighted in the use of the knowledge. Turning his back contemptuously, he failed to see a look which would have made him thoughtful.
CHAPTER XVII
Satisfaction at the Double K over the rebuff to the rustlers was not as great as might have been expected. There had always been a friendly rivalry between the two ranches, and the fact that the Twin Diamond had undoubtedly scored, though it was to the Double K's advantage, rankled with both owner and outfit. Some of the latter had another reason for not exulting unduly, and of these the foreman was the most disgruntled.
“Can't figure it nohow," he said to Turvey. "Somebody must 'a' put them lunkheads wise. Jeff'll be mad."
“No blame to us anyway," the little man replied. "Our boys didn't find 'em. If there's bin a leak it's from Hell City. Reckon Green could 'a' had anythin' to do with it?"
“He dasn't show his face at the Twin Diamond, an' after helpin' to steal the herd he wouldn't be likely to hand 'em back to us."
“That's so," Turvey agreed. He did not know of the frame-up. "He's in Hell City, I s'pose, an' cherishin' no feelin' of affection for us. Me, I'd ruttier he was danglin' from a tree. How in blazes he got away from three o' yu "
“Oh, can the chatter," Steve said angrily. "That trick o' shootin' out the light gave him a chance an' he took it. He's Jeff's man now an' that makes us safe from him."
“Does it work both ways?" Turvey leered.
“I didn't say that," was the reply.
The subject of their conversation cropped up again at supper. With the object of stirring up Frosty, one man asked his neighbour if he had seen any more of Green?
“No, nor I don't hanker to," came the answer. "Last timewas the night o' the raid an' he was pumpin' lead at me plenty eager.”
Frosty surveyed the rotund form of the speaker disdainfully. "Couldn't 'a' bin him, he'd not miss a mark like yu with eyes shut," he said.
“If it warn't him why did he skip?" the stout one argued. "Would yu wait if the Ol' Man promised to stretch yore neck?”
The other hesitated; Keith's reputation for keeping his word was well established. "It was his hoss," he evaded.
“Mebbe, with another fella straddling it," Frosty retorted Lagley cut in. "Green told me hisself no one else could ride the black. He was as guilty as hell, an' yu know it.”
The cowboy stood up, his face suddenly stern. "What yu mean, I know it?" he asked, and his voice had an edge. "If yo're tryin' to rope me up with the rustlin', yu an' me'll have a ll'l argument, foreman or no.”
Lagley's gesture was one of impatience. "I didn't mean nothin' o' the sort. Yu talk like a kid. Where's the sense gettin' sore over a cussed outlaw who oughta be swingin' in a loop?"
“He's my friend."
“They say a fella is knowed by the company he mixes with," Turvey sneered.
“If there was any truth in that yu'd be damned lonely," Frosty snapped.
A black scowl was all the answer he received. Good tempered as he usually was, when the white-haired puncher went "on the prod," none of the outfit was anxious to get in his way.
* Silver was in a seventh heaven. Passing along the street, the woman Anita had smiled at him from the entrance to her abode, and, when he paused in sheer bewilderment, invited him to come in and talk with her.
“It is cool inside, and I am lonely," she made excuse.
The experience was a novel one; usually members of the other sex shrank from him in fear or repulsion. This fact, of which he was bitterly conscious, rendered him painfully shy whenever a female was even in sight. Anita was not so beautiful as Belle Dalroy, but she was young and comely. For a moment he hesitated, glancing right and left. Was she playing a joke upon him? Well, if so, he had it in his power to make it an expensive amusement. The thought gave him courage, and he went in. The squalid place set him more at ease, and he perched himself on a stool.
“You like whisky?" she asked.
Silver did; it made him forget that he was not as other men. His small, deep-set eyes glittered as she poured out nearly a full glass, handed it to him, and sat down.
“Ain't you drinkin'?" he asked, and grinned when she said the spirit burned her throat. "It don't hurt mine," he boasted. "The more it bites, the better I'm pleased." He tilted the tumbler, absorbing half the contents at a gulp. "That's the stuff; makes a man o' one. Try some." He emptied the glass as he spoke and held it out. This time she filled it.
“I don't want to be a man," she smiled. "You are one already, important, a friend of the Chief."
“Friend?" he repeated, and his expression was hardly one of affection. Then, "So you reckon me a man—like the rest?"
“Not like the rest," she said softly. "You have the strength of three and—I admire strong men.”
Silver drank again and laughed coarsely. "you shore picked a loser in Pedro."
“True, he was weak," she said carelessly, and he did notdetect the tremor in her voice. "I had almost forgotten him. The Chief would not dare do that to you.”
The liquor and flattery were beginning to take effect. "He threatens me," he growled. "Me, that could break him wlth my two hands, easy as snappin' a stick.”
His great paws rose in the air and dropped suddenly, portraying the act with such savage realism that the woman shivered. She was playing with something worse than fire, but she did not falter.
“He would not have you whipped," she said quietly, "but he might keep you shut up, as he does one other.”
“What you know o' that?"
“Nothing, save his existence, and that he is seen only by the Chief, and you, who take him food."
“Why do you ask? Is this fella anythin' to you?" the dwarf asked thlckly.
She laughed at him. "A man I've never seen? No, my friend, put it down to a woman's curioslty. Don't you like my whisky?”
She passed the bottle and he helped himself liberally. "Best not meddle with what don't concern you," he warned. His covetous eyes dwelt on her. "You an' me'd make a good team," he said. "Allus wanted a woman o' my own.”
Anita shrugged. "you travel too fast," she replied. "I'm not a dance-hall drab, and I'd never take up with one who wouldn't trust me completely.”
Silver was silent. He had to choose between a man who mocked him as a monstrosity and a woman who seemed blind to his physical defects and admired the one attribute on which he prided himself—his strength. In some such way his drink-bemused brain reasoned it out. He could take her, she was at his mercy, and since the passing of Pedro, she had no friends, but mere possession would not satisfy his craving; she must come to him willingly.
Inwardly trembling, but outwardly calm, the woman watched him as might a desperate gambler the spinning wheel which spelled riches or ruin. She saw the huge claw- like fingers open and reach for her.
“It's a bargain, girl," Silver said, and breathed heavily. "You an' me—”
She swayed back. "You must have patience, amigo," she murmured, but her smile was kind. "Women like to be wooed, you know, and besides, you have not trusted me—yet. There is still some whisky; drink to our future.”
With a raucous chuckle of triumph, Silver clutched the bottle, drained and flung it to the floor. Anita knew that the act signified surrender, but she had the wisdom to wait. He bent towards her, and in a low rumble, like far distant thunder, said: "There is a fella—I dunno who he is, but the Chief calls him his `ace in the hole,' an' he'd ruther lose an eye than let him go."
“What's the poor devil done?"
“Ain't a notion, suthin' bad, likely."
“His `ace in the hole,' " Anita mused. "That means he's saving him for some special purpose. I'd like to see this man; ake me with you one time, Silver.”
The massive shoulders shook with mirth. "I ain't no wizard, glrl. To do that I'd have to get you through the Chief's room, there's no other way 'less yo're a bird," Silver wheezed, and anxious to prove that she was asking the impossible, went on to explain that the captive was confined in a cavern below Satan's, and only to be reached by padlocked trap-doors. "He keeps the keys hisself," he finished.
Her face fell. "But he goes away sometimes," she urged.
“An' takes 'em with him," was the reply. "Mebbe he won't come back one time an' that hombre'll just starve."
“A terrible death.”
Hell, we all gotta go, sooner or later, but you an' me'll have a good innin's first.”
He stood up, staggering a little on his stumpy legs, and made an awkward attempt to seize her. She evaded him easily enough and shook her head.
“Not yet, amigo, I am only half won," she smiled. "The Chief will be missing you. Come again—if you wish.”
Greatly to her relief, he went docilely enough; the reminder that his dreaded master might be waiting somewhat sobered him. When his lurching, tipsy figure had disappeared, she sank down on a stool.
“God, what a weapon to have to use," she muttered, and fell to thinking. Had she found a way of striking at the man who had flogged her lover to death and humiliated her? It seemed so, but she could see little hope of using her information.
“That brute has no brain, and fears his keeper," she decided.
Alone, she was impotent. She must find a man wo was not afraid of the bandit chief, and where, in Hell City, was he to be found? With knitted brow, she puzzled over the problem, and then the strange cowboy who had buried her dead occurred to her. He appeared to be on good terms with the Red Mask, and yet ..
“At least, he would not betray me," she told herself.
* Sudden's survey of the scene of the hold-up produced little. The ambushing party, he reported, consisted of four riders—he had doubled the number—and having obtained the money, they had taken the northern trail. The latter was true, but he omitted to mention that after a couple of miles, they had swung south in the direction of the Twin Diamond. The Chief received the particulars with indifference.
“It is, after all, a small matter," he said. "I was annoyed at the time because I do not like my plans to miscarry, but ...”
Sudden, suspecting something behind this attitude, spent the next two days in the town. He would have liked to see Frosty or Merry but it was too dangerous; he had more than a dim suspicion that if he rode out, he would be followed.
It was on the second evening, as he was returning to the saloon, that a whispered invitation from the darkness took him into Anita's dwelling. A guttering candle served only to show the discomfort of the place.
“I gotta thank yu for the word about Butch," he said. "It was real useful."
“I couldn't let you be tricked," she replied quietly.
It was a different woman to the one who had cajoled Silver. Anita divined that her present guest was not one to allow his senses to be deadened by drink or snared by desire; he would be more likely to appreciate frankness.
“What are you to this mountebank who hides behind a mask?" she asked.
“Just one of his men," was the reply. "Holm' up, like the rest of 'em." - Her gestute showed that she was dissatisfied with the answer. "You may have reasons for hiding, but you are lifferent," she said. "Why does Satan want you killed?”
Sudden was silent for a moment. This woman had rendered him a service, but she might be playing a part, and his position in this den of desperadoes was too precarious for further risk.
“News to me," he said stolidly.
“Butch was sent for on purpose," she stated. "You don't :rust me, and I cannot blame you, but I am going to put my cards on the table. Odd as it may seem, I cared for Pedro—he was my one friend, and yet, it was because of me he died. I have vowed to avenge him and am ready to run any hazard.”
In the frail light of the flickering candle he saw her sombre eyes gleam and realized that she was in earnest. But what could a mere woman do against one who was all-powerful? She read something of his thought.
“You are thinking I am mad," she went on. "That a weak creature like myself cannot injure him. But I have already dealt a blow, for you are alive, and I know of another and greater one that will wound him far more deeply than the loss of his stolen steers, or the plunder from Bosville."
“How do you know these things?”
She laughed contemptuously. "Men drink—and talk. If Satan wants his secrets kept, he should ban liquor and women from Hell City."
“Why are yu tellin' me?"
“It is something I cannot do myself, and you do not like the beast any better than I do." She raised her head as she spoke, looking him squarely in the face, but learned nothing. "You should win at any card game. Listen." She gave him the gist of her interview with Silver, ending, "Who is this man, and why is he buried alive?"
“I reckon we'll have to ask him that, ma'am," Sudden said. Instantly her face lit up with a fierce joy. "you'll help me?" she cried. "Then we shall succeed."
“I'm obliged for yore good opinion, ma'am," the puncher said a trifle ironically. "All we gotta do is steal the key from Silver or his master, get 'em both out'n the road ..."
“Hopeless," she decided, and sat, her face cupped in her hands, thinking. "Silver said there was no other way save for a bird," she mused. "What did that mean?"
“Plain enough," was the reply. "All these caverns have holes for light an' air."
“That will be it," Anita said eagerly. "Could a man clever with a rope climb up?"
“In the daylight, mebbe, but at night he'd need the eyes an' claws of a cat," Sudden told her. "Allasame, it seems to be the on'y chance. That big ape might win out—he's built for it."
“He fears the whip and would turn traitor," she said.
“I'll look it over in the mornin'," the puncher promised.
In the seclusion of his room at the saloon, he dwelt again on the strange story. The mysterious prisoner could not be one of Bleke's men; the body of the first had been returned, and Sudden himself had accounted for the second. Satan's "ace in the hole"—the phrase recurred to him; if indeed the unknown was a winning card in the bandit's crooked game, he must be spirited away, and hidden—where?
“The Double K? No, Steve would talk," he muttered. "I guess Merry could use another band.”
Having settled this point, he turned in and slept as though Hell City and its problems did not exist.
CHAPTER XVIII
“Nigger, it's goin' to be dead easy—to break my fool neck.”
At sunrise, Sudden had slipped out of the town by the ' western exit, followed the beaten track for over a mile and then struck north until he reached an open strip of sand and scrub. Crossing this, he hid in the bushes and waite Presently, satisfied that his movements were not being spied upon, he circled round and was now at the foot of the precipice on the brink of which stood Hell City. He had no fear of discovery here, for the trees and undergrowth afforded complete cover even for a horseman, Before him rose the vertical cliff, bare save for occasional clumps of cactus, coarse grass, and, here and there, a shrunken shrub, mesquite or sage, fighting tenaciously for life against the inhospitable surroundings. At a first glance, the task of scaling the height appeared an impossibility, but the puncher knew what to look for. One by one, his experienced eye picked out tiny crevices and ledges which might serve as hand or footholds. He noted too that, twenty feet up, the wall was a little less abrupt and more broken.
Moving backwards, he could see the great, jagged rampart of rock which formed one side of the bandit settlement, pitted with its primitive windows. Remembering that he had buried the Mexican almost immediately below Anita's, enabled him to locate Satan's quarters with some certainty. Twenty feet below, and a little to the right, was another opening.
“That'll be where he had Dolver," he reflected. "Didn't notice any trap-door but there was plenty else to look at." A third hole, lower, and still further away, attracted his attention. "Reckon that's it," he said, and mentally measured the distance. "She's a seventy-foot climb, an' I'm admittin' a little moonlight'll be welcome.”
For a long time he remained, selecting a route up the rock, studying each step and fixing them in his mind. There could be no margin for error; one slip and ... At length, satisfied he had done all that was possible, he retraced his way to the town. The saloon-keeper had news for him.
“Silver's bin twice," he said. "Dunno what he wanted.”
“The Chief is anxious 'bout my health, I expect," Sudden smiled. "I'll go an' set his mind at rest.”
Satan appeared to be in a frlendly mood, which put the puncher on his guard. To a careless question as to what he had been doing he replied, "Givin' my hoss a li'l run—idleness don't suit neither of us."
“Then you'll be glad to hear I have some work for you. The stage from the East should reach Red Rock before sundown to-night. It will carry forty thousand dollars in gold consigned to the bank. About five miles short of the town the road dips and then rises quickly where it passes through a tract of timber. There is excellent cover; in fact, the place might have been designed for our purpose. You understand?"
“Shorely. Do I play a lone hand?"
“No, Scar and his men will go with you—five should be sufficient. They have their orders.”
Somehow, the last four words had an ominous sound. Why had these men, with whom he had clashed more than once, been chosen? Sudden asked himself. But if the masked man expected protest he was disappointed.
“Suits me," Sudden said off-handedly. "I'll go hunt them fellas up right away. See yu to-morrow—mebbe."
“Yes,"" Satan said, and when his visitor had gone, added the one word, "Maybe.”
The puncher did not at once seek his assistants, it was early 'et, and there was time to spare. Instead, he routed out oung Holt.
“Still honin' for a chance to get outa here?" he asked, and when he saw the eager look come into the lad's eyes, went on, "I'm givin' yu one. Got a hoss? Good. Know Red Rock?"
“On'y where it is—never bin there."
“Yo're goin', right away, an' when yu make it, search out the sheriff an' tell him to take a strong posse to meet the coach to-night 'bout seven mile out an' escort her to town. Sabe?”
Holt looked dubious. "I ain't stuck much on meetin' sheriffs," he muttered.
“Shucks," Sudden replied. "Yore trouble was down South, huh? Red Rock won't know nothin' of yu. Tell 'em yu been held prisoner by the gang what's aimin' to rob the coach, an' gettin loose, yu came to warn 'em. They'll be too grateful to ask questions."
“I'll risk it," the boy said. "It's mighty good o' you, mister, but how'll I get outa Hell City?”
Sudden gave him certain instructions and then went to the saloon, where, as he expected, he found his men huddled round a table, drinking.
“We start in twenty minutes from the west gate," he said. "The main trail from Dugout is easier," Scar objected. "I'm handlin' this," the puncher replied curtly, and went to make his own preparations.
“Quite the boss, ain't he?" Scar sneered. "Well, we can stand it for a while, seein' it means a double-barrelled chance to pay off a score an' collect a stake."
“Ten thousand bucks apiece, fair handed to us at that," Daggs chuckled. "I can swaller a lot o' lip at the price."
“Saine here," Squint agreed. "When do we square with that—?"
“After the stick-up, o' course," Scar told him. "Five ain't too many, an' besides, if anythin' goes wrong, he's in charge an' takes the blame.”
The other applauded the wisdom of this course and complimented the maker of it upon his foresight. Meanwhile, Sudden had ridden to the gate and prevailed upon the custodian to open it on the plea that his party was late, and they had no time to lose.
“Dunno what's keepin' 'em," he said impatiently. "The Chief'd comb their wool good an' plenty if he knowed."
“Here's one a-comin' now," the man said, as Ben Holt loped up.
“He ain't with me, but mebbe he has a message," Sudden replied, and swung round so as to leave the exit clear.
Instantly Holt put spurs to his horse, dashed through the opening, and went thundering down the road. With an oath of dismay, the gate-man snatched out a pistol.
“Don't be an ass, friend," Sudden said sharply. "D'yu wanta advertise that yu let him pass?"
“This'll git me in bad," the man said angrily.
“Shore, if it's knowed, but I ain't yappin' an' if yu don't, who's to guess he didn't use the other gate?" the puncher argued. "Hello, here's them loafers.”
As Scar and his company trotted up he surveyed them with a frown. "Yo're late," he snapped. "What d'yu think this is—a pleasure trip? Get goin'.”
The went out and the keeper closed and bolted the gate behind them. "Gawd!" he soliloquized. "If I was takin' a ride with that bunch I wouldn't start with fault-findin', even if I had put Butch outa business. No, sir.”
Outside, Sudden had paired with Roden, telling the others to ride ahead. "We want the shortest road to Red Rock, an'keep yore broncs movin'," he said, and to Scar, "Yu know what we're after?"
“Betcha life—the Chief told me," was the answer, with a sly look which had meaning for the man at his side.
“There's a dip five miles east o' the town; that's where we strike. Know it?"
“Yeah, it's the very place; lots o' cover an' a good getaway. It'll be the softest thing ever."
“No doubt," was the reply. "When we get there I'll lay out a plan. For now, yu can join yore friends.”
The plain intimation that his presence was not desired brought a scowl to Roden's always unpleasant features, but he obeyed in silence, consoling himself with the thought that it would be his turn to talk presently.
Hours passed, spent in climbing hills, crossing streams, threading dark, winding gulches, with every now and then, an open space where they could put on speed. They were treading no beaten track but the leaders evidently knew their way, wild as the country was. The puncher followed, eyes and mind alert. The possibility that the ruffians might shoot him and decamp with the spoil must, he felt sure, have occurred to the Chief. Was he prepared to pay this price for Sudden's death, or did he rely on the fear which he flattered himself all his followers felt for him?
The puncher could not answer the question. It might even be that the coach robbery was a mere pretext to give these men their opportunity, but the covert backward glances and intermittent burst of rude mirth were not calculated to lull him into a sense of security. With set lips and narrowed eyes he rode on, his right hand never far from a gun; at the first dubious sign he would slay—ruthlessly.
But no occasion arose; the men in front pressed steadily on, seemingly intent only on the journey. At long last, they pulled up on the edge of a pine forest, and Scar nodded as Sudden joined them.
“Here she is," he said. "Take a peep through the brush an' you'll see the trail to Red Rock."
“I'm believin' yu," the puncher said drily, unwilling that his back should be a target for four guns.
It was indeed a perfect place for an ambush; high bushes fringed the wheel-rutted roadway, and behind them the matted foliage of the pines, defying the rays of the sinking sun, turned daylight into darkness.
“We can stay on our horses," Sudden decided. "String out along the trail, an' don't fire a shot till I give the word. I'll do the talkin'.”
Half an hour went by and but for the stamp of a restive pony and a growled curse from its owner, there was no sound. Sudden was beginning to wonder if they had arrived too late when the distant crack of a whip and the muffled beat of hooves announced that the prey was heading for the trap. Presently they saw the coach swing round a bend and come racing down the slope. The puncher's teeth shut down on an oath when he saw that there were no attendant riders; had Holt failed?
“On'y the express-man to deal with," Scar chuckled. "Yu leave that to me," Sudden said sharply.
The clumsy vehicle clattered down the short descent at the gallop, gathering momentum for the coming rise, while Sudden vainly sought a way out of the dilemma in which he found himself. He could see nothing for it but to carry out the robbery and trust to being able to return the booty later, for to fail now without a powerful reason would be the end of his enterprise in Hell City. By the time he reached this decision the coach was slowing up for the climb, and he was just about to step forward and give the command to halt when a rifle spoke and the express messenger swayed in his seat."Damnation!" Sudden swore. "Who fired?"
“I did—yo're lettin' 'em git away," Daggs replied insolently, and urged his horse forward. "C'mon, boys." The puncher's face grew bleak. "I'll shoot the first man who stirs," he threatened. "Look, yu fools.”
Round a curve in the trail a band of eight horsemen had appeared. They had arrived on the scene just in time to see the flash of the shot, and were now thundering at breakneck speed for the coach, shouting and shooting as they advanced. A storm of leaden bullets swept through the flimsy wall of brush behind which the bandits were hidden, and Daggs, with a gasping cough, pitched sideways from his saddle. Sudden gave him one glance.
“Cashed," he said. "An' we'll be the same 'less we get outa here, an' that soon.”
There was no demur; the death of a comrade, the venomous hum of bullets about their ears, and utter collapse of the enterprise had reduced the road-agents to a state almost of panic; they had no thought but to save their skins. As they wheeled and galloped into the gloom of the forest, they heard the crack of a whip and the crunch of the iron tyres as the coach resumed its journey. The fusillade ceased, to be followed by the sound of bodies moving in the brush; they were being searched for. A couple of miles of fast riding and, the noise of pursuit having died away, they pulled up to breathe their mounts. Scar was the first to speak.
“Someone musta spilt the beans; that was the sheriff leadin'."
“Talk sense," Squint said irritably. "None o' us heard o' the job till this mornin'. Point is, what's to do?"
“Yu three will go back an' report," Sudden said. "I wanta find out what's happenin' to that gold—mebbe we'll get another chance. I'm goin' to Red Rock."
“The hell you are," Scar said. "Any one of us could tackle that."
“Any one o' yu would be clapped in the calaboose as soon as the sheriff put eyes on yu," came the stinging retort. "I'm not knowed.”
This being the literal truth, was unanswerable. Sullenly the three watched him ride away, and then set out on a task besides which the risky one of robbing the coach was pure enjoyment; they had to own to another failure.
Free from observation, Sudden's disappointed expression vanished in a satisfied grin. He had scored again, and though compelled to deny himself the pleasure of breaking the bad news to the bandit, he had a hunch that his visit to Red Rock would be worth while. But caution was imperative, and therefore he compassed a half-circle in order to enter the town from the west.
He found it agog with excitement. The coach had departed, but armed men were stationed near the bank, and the saloons were full. Sudden entered the largest of these, purchased liquor, and sat down at a table. Presently, as he had expected, a burly, red-haired man—after a word with the bartender—came to join him, glass in hand.
“Stranger here, I think?" he remarked genially.
“Yu don't have to think again—sheriff," the puncher returned. "The town seems sorta agitated."
“Road-agents tried to hold up the coach," the other informed, and gave details, watching keenly.
“Which is why yo're investigatin' me, huh?" Sudden smiled. "D'yu figure any of 'em would be nervy enough to make for here?"
“Might be a good bluff—'cept for the fella downed, we didn't git a glimmer of 'em."
“Well, yo're wastin' time on me. I'm from the north, aimin' to visit a man name o' Merry. Know him?"
“Shore I do—tall, an' that scanty he don't hardly throw a shadder. Runs the Twin Diamond ranch."
“That's the joker," Sudden agreed, and smiled when he saw the other's eyes harden. "He must 'a' altered some, for when I last met up with him he was short an' his shadder made yu think the sun had gone in. Has he rebuilt that hen-roost he calls a house yet?”
The sheriff laughed. "I lose," he said. "The drinks is on me. Any friend o' Mart's is welcome here." He replenished the glasses, and went on, "I was admirin' that black o' yores, but the brand beat me."
“The JG stands for James Green, meanin' me," Sudden said carelessly. "He's a wild stallion, an' I broke an' put the the iron on him my own self."
“I'm Sim Dealtry, sheriff o' this burg some ten years now, an' it ain't no cake-walk."
“Pleased to know yu," the puncher replied, and then, "There used to be another range alongside the Twin Diamond, owned by a starchy of Southerner called Keith. He had a son—nice-appearin' lad, but a trifle mettlesome. Is he still about?"
“Ain't seen him for quite a considerable spell," the sheriff said. "He was a pretty constant visitor to Red Rock, an' bein', like you say, mettlesome, got in with the wrong party. Gamblin', drinkin', an' then a shootin', though that didn't amount to much for the fella was as crooked as a cow's hind leg an' pulled first, but when it comes to plain murder ..." His lips closed down on the word and his eyes were flinty. "My own son, Dan, shot from behind in the dark," he went on throatily. "An' that same night, Jeff Keith, who had quarrelled with the boy, disappeared. The town pinned the crime on him right away."
“An' yu?" the puncher asked.
Dealtry shook his head. "I ain't shore," he admitted. "I know somethin' the rest don't: Keith allus carried a forty-four, the same cartridges fittin' his rifle, an' the slug taken from my boy's body was—different. O' course, he mighta used another gun."
“Anyone else missin" 'bout that time?" Sudden asked. "Yeah, chap named Lafe Lander that Keith was pretty partial to, but he showed up again two-three days later. Didn't stay though—said he was goin' back East, where he belonged."
“Had he any grudge against yore son?"
“They didn't mix; it was over him that Dan an' Keith fell out. I guess my boy spoke his mind too plain."
“Tough luck, sheriff."
“Shore was—an' is. I'd feel easier if the sneakin' houn' hadn't got away with it."
“What's come o' young Keith?"
“I wlsh you could tell me," Dealtry said. "His dad disowned him—complete. Some claim he's the masked leader of a band of outlaws pesterin' the country since soon after he was lost sight of. What d'you make o' that?”
Sudden examined the familiar red badge with well-simulated curiosity.
“Yu can search me," he replied, inwardly amused at the thought that if the sheriff took him at his word, he would find a second. "Where'd yu get her?"
“The dead hold-up was wearin' it, an' if rumour is right, it means he was one o' Keith's gang. Well, I gotta get along to the bank; them hombres may try again; I hope they do. See you later, p'r'aps."
“I'm turnin' in," Sudden told him. "Makin' an early start."
“'Member me to Mart."
“Shore will, but he'll be surprised yu'd forgotten what he looked like.”
The sly reminder of his little trap brought a grin to the sheriff's face. "You ain't obliged to tell him that," he pointed out. "An' say, if ever you want to cash in on that hoss, let me know."
“When he's for sale I'll be wearin' wings—mebbe," Sudden smiled.
Dealtry nodded comprehendingly; he had felt that way about a horse himself.
CHAPTER XIX
The sun was no more than peeping above the purple hills on the horizon when Sudden rode out of Red Rock. The town was not yet stirring, but in front of a squat 'dobe building which he knew to be the bank, an armed man was steadily pacing to and fro; clearly the sheriff was overlooking no bets. He smiled grimly.
“We've taken the pot again, Nig, but the luck's too good to last," he murmured. "There's bound to come a time when I'll wanta throw in an' dasn't, an' then—mebbe yu'll have a new master.”
The animal whinnled, threw up its head, and dropped into a long lope which, save in difficult stretches, would eat up the miles. So it came about that, while the day was still young, Sudden rode again into Hell City, turned his horse into the corral, and went into the saloon. His three men were there.
“Reported? Not damn likely; that's yore affair," Scar snorted, ln reply to a question.
Sudden smiled; they were not going to help him. "I'm obliged," he said. "I'd sooner tell the story my own way.”
He read the instant look of apprehension; evidently it had not occurred to Roden that the whole blame for the nonsuccess of the expedition might be put upon himself and his companions.
“Guess I'd better come along," he suggested.
“All the same to me," Sudden said indifferently.
He went out. Scar followed, sullenly enough, for he now saw that in trying to be clever he had been merely stupid; he should have made his own tale good.
“There ain't no call to tell him we come back ahead o' you," he suggested.
“Are yu expectin' he won't know?”
Scar was not, he had only hopes, and these died the moment his chief set eyes on him.
“You arrived eight hours ago, Roden," he said. "Why haven't I seen you?”
The man had an inspiration; he jerked a thumb at his companion. "Best ask him; he's the doc, an' a pretty mess he's made of it.”
Satan looked savagely from one to the other. "Where's the gold?" he snapped.
“In the bank at Red Rock, I reckon," Sudden said coolly, and told what had happened.
The looked-for outburst did not come, but below the mask he could see the rigid jaw-muscles and knew that the bandit was fighting to conceal his fury.
“So you failed," came the caustic comment, and the tone conveyed a threat.
Sudden glared at him. "Shore we did," he retorted harshly, "an' whose fault was it? Yores, for givin' me muck-rakin's to work with. If they'd obeyed orders Daggs wouldn't 'a' fired, an' we'd 'a' had the posse under our guns before they knowed we was there, an' cleaned 'em up. As it was, they outnumbered us two to one; it's no use shoutin' against thunder.”
Scar's eyes were near popping out of his head—he had never seen his dreaded chief talked back to, and fully expected to see the offender shot down. But the masked man had himself in hand. He looked at Roden.
“Was that the way of it?"
“Daggs was too eager, an' spilled us," the rogue sulkily admitted, and with a spark of spirit, added, "You didn't tell us there would be a guard follerin' the coach."
“You can get out," Satan said, and when Roden had retreated, willingly enough, turned to the puncher. "It seems you could not help it." He was silent for a moment, and then, "Singular how things have gone awry for me since you came here."
“Yu have lost yore medicine."
“What do you mean?"
“When it happens to an Injun, he has angered his gods an' nothin' goes right; a white man calls it bein' outa luck.”
Satan's lips curled disdainfully. "The excuse of the weak," he said. "The strong man laughs at luck—good or ill. What did you learn at Red Rock?"
“On'y that the bank is a fine place to stay away from just now," Sudden replied. "The sheriff showed me one o' yore badges--got it from Daggs. He was real interested."
“Dealtry is a duffer; if he meddles in my affairs he'll be wearing one himself, though he won't know it," was the threatening answer. "And don't make the mistake of thinking these trifling reverses—due to the poor tools I have to use —are important. I shall win—in the end."
“I'll remember," Sudden replied solemnly.
With the vainglorious words ringing in his ears, he stepped into the street, a saturnine smile on his own lips.
“If conceit counted that fella could rule the world," he told himself. Another thought came. "Odd that Keith's son shouldn't know about Injun medicine. Well, gotta find that Frosty-pate an' arrange another `disappointment.' “
He got his horse and rode to the west gate, where he found the same man in charge. He enquired whether Holt had returned and appeared surprised at the negative reply.
“I've just left the Chief, an' he don't know of it," he said. "Keep a tight mouth—things went wrong yestiddy an' the boy mighta had somethin' to do with it. Get me?"
“You bet I do," the fellow said fervently. "Thanks, mister.”
Circling to the south, Sudden crossed the plateau where he had first met Belle Dalroy, and descended to the edge of the Double K range. Here he built a small fire, and from the mouth of a near-by ravine which would permit an unobserved retreat, watched the smoke eddying into the still air.
“If he's around that'll fetch him," he argued. "If someone else shows up, I gotta be a whole lot absent.
His signal proved successful; at the end of half an hour a rider came pacing across the plain, to pull up, gun in hand, as he drew near.
“Stamp the fire out and come ahead," Sudden called. "It's Jim.”
Frosty obeyed, a grin on his face. "Knowed that a'readynobody else'd be idjut enough to try that trick," he said. "S'pose it had been Steve who happened along?"
“He'd never have seen me," was the reply. "I had to take the risk; got a li'l job for yu to-night."
“If I thank yu, don't believe me," Frosty said. "What is it this time—a nice easy murder?"
“Nothin' that'll soil yore lily-white reputation," Sudden grinned. "Slant them long listeners o' yores this way." He told of the unknown prisoner, and then, "Soon as it's dark yu'll ride over to play poker at the Twin Diamond."
“I ain't got no invite," Frosty objected.
“There's somethin' else yo're lackin', too," Sudden said severely. "Come alive, yu chump, this is serious. Go to Merry, borrow a couple o' saddled hosses, an' fetch 'em to that place I told yu about. We'll need two more ropes as well. I'll be waitin' for yu there."
“Seems a lot o' trouble to turn loose a hombre yu don't know an' who may deserve to be where he is," Frosty grumbled.
“Yo're missin' the mark by about a million miles, ills friend retorted. "I don't care if he's committed every crime there is; Satan wants him an' that's a good argument for takin' him away. Are yu sittin' in?"
“Shore I am; what d'yu take me for?" was the indignant reply.
“I'd just hate to tell yu," Sudden smiled, and then his expression sobered. "We gotta keep our eyes skinned; if that devil catches us, a quick finish is the best we could hope for.”
Frosty nodded, a speculative look in his eyes. "Just why are yu doin' this, Jim?" he asked. "Oh, I know the fella framed yu, but ... What's back o' yore mind?"
“If I told yu, ol'-timer, yu'd think me loco," the puncher said whimsically. "Mebbe we'll learn somethin' to-night. Now, I gotta get busy coverin' my tracks."
“What yu goin' to do?"
“Get drunk. Adios.”
Before the Double K man could conjure up an adequate answer to this staggering statement, the maker of it had swung into his saddle and shot off up the ravine. Frosty flung up his hands.
“Ain't he the aggravatin' cuss?" he asked the world. "Yu never know when he's joshin', an' yet, he gets yu. Here's me, happy an' comfortable, 'cept that I'm mostly broke, an' when he sez `Come an' risk yore silly neck,' I not on'y does but I'm glad to. He's so damned—convincin'. I reckon he meant it all but that drunk notion, which was just his way o' tellin' me to shut up.”
In which conclusion Frosty was wrong, for Sudden had meant that also. He had to be absent from Hell City and yet have evidence he had not left it. So the company at Dink's that evening saw him in a different guise, that of an angry, complaining man sitting at a table alone, who swore savagelywhen invited to take part in a game, and applied himself. steadily to the bottle before him. As the liquor took effect, his maudlin voice rose and those present gathered that he was grumbling at the way he had been treated. The bottle emptied, he banged on the table with it and demanded another. In the poor light, no one noticed that most of the spirit had been spilled on the sanded floor. Dirk himself brought the further supply, and with it, a caution; his customer had been entlrely too outspoken. Sudden stood up, grabbed the bottle and drank, regarding the saloon-keeper owlishly.
“No fella in this town c'n talk down to me," he said. "I'll fight an'body in the bar." He dropped into his seat. "I'd fight the lot of 'em if I c'd stand."
“O' course you would," Dirk said placatingly. "All you want is another little drink, an' a nice long sleep; then you can show 'em.”
He winked at the men standing round and held out a glass. The puncher seized and drained it. "Thass ri'," he mumbled thickly. "Gotta sleep." His effort to rise was a failure. "Losh my legs. Helluva note." His head fell forward in a drunken stupor.
“That last shot has fixed him—he'll be out for the night," the saloon-keeper remarked. "I ain't sorry neither; when these quiet ones do break loose they're wuss'n the reg'lars. Help me carry him to his bed.”
Two acted as bearers and Dirk showed the way. When they arrived at the room, the apparently intoxicated man opened his eyes and demanded to be set down. Staggering in, he slammed the door and slid the bolt into its slot.
“coin' to sleep," he called out. "If an'body rouses me—I'll kill 'em. Goo'-night.”
The heard a tumble and a curse, followed by the creak of the pallet-bed, and silence. One of them furtively tried the door and jumped back as a bullet crashed through it above his head.
“Wake me, would yu?" the drunkard's voice snarled. Their rapidly retreating footsteps brought a smile to the face of the man sitting on the side of the bed.
“Reckon that'll hold 'em for the night," he murmured.
Stepping lightly on the balls of his feet, he jammed the one chair under the handle so that the door could not be easily forced, crossed the window, and raised the sash. With his coiled lariat round his neck, he slipped over the sill and, hanging by his hands, let go, landing as softly as a cat. Hat pulled down over his eyes, he slunk through the murky gloom of the town until he reached the secret exit. Here, as he knew, there was always a guard.
Noiselessly he felt his way through the cavern entrance and smothered a whoop when he saw that he had only one man to deal with. The fellow was squatting on a stool in front of a fire, his back to the intruder, a rifle propped against the wall. Clearly he was not expecting to be disturbed. Treading with the stealth of a stalking savage, the cowboy crept nearer. He was within a couple of yards when fortune failed him; a dry stick—invisible in the darkness—cracked beneath his step, bringing the guard instantly to his feet.
“Who th' hell—?”
He got no farther: Sudden's fist, propelled with all the power of his advancing body behind it, flashed upwards to his chin and hurled him, a senseless mass, to the ground. Remembering that he must return that way, Sudden tied and gagged his victim before proceeding. Then he climbed the ladder to the cave overhead, and repeating the process twice more, found himself in the open air, and looking into the muzzle of a pistol.
“Li'l boys shouldn't play with firearms," he said.
“Couldn't afford to take chances," Frosty explained. "' Sides, I was lookin' for a fella disguised in drink."
“Yu see him," Sudden grinned. "An hour back I had to be carried to bed. Got them horses?"
“Shore," Frosty replied, adding thoughtlessly, "Why didn't yu bring yore own?"
“Nigger is an intelligent animal but I never could learn him to climb ladders; dunno why, no ambition thatway, mebbe. Also—"
“Yu can go plumb to perdition."
“While he's in Hell City they'll figure I am, too," Sudden continued. "Fetch them ropes along?”
Being assured on this point, he mounted one of the Twin Diamond ponies and led the way eastwards. After several miles, they crossed the trail to Dugout, and turned again in the direction of the bandit town, traversing the valley which it overlooked. The night was dark and chilly, and the task of forcing a path through the undergrowth proved both laborious and painful.
“Every damn bush seems to 'a' got its claws out," Frosty complained. "C'mon, yu chunk o' crowbait, yore hide is thicker'n mine." He tugged at the lead-rope of the third horse. "Wish we had some o' that whisky yu wasted.”
Sudden chuckled; he had told of the ruse employed to cover his absence. "Yo're readin' my thoughts," he said. "We oughts be gettin' near now.”
They were: presently the black bulk of the cliff which was Hell City loomed up on their left. They went slowly on, the horses stumbling over the stony débris from the weather-worn height above. Sudden's eyes were busy, soon they caught a gleaming white mark on a tree-trunk where a sliver of bark had been sliced away. He pointed to it.
“There's my blaze; this must be the place.”
They got down, secured the animals, and Frosty's gaze travelled over the apparently perpendicular wall; about half-way up he could discern a spot of diffused light. He turned to his companion, who was winding the extra ropes round his body.
“If yo're expectin' to climb up there yu'll need four hands, the same number o' feet, an' hooks on yore eyebrows," he said. "Give it up, Jim; it ain't possible, an' mebbe the hombre would ruther stay where he is anyways."
“Likely, but I'm goin' up an' he's comin' down," Sudden said, and with a grim smile, "If yu hear a yelp, stand from under—I shall be movin' fast.”
With the jest on his lips, he began the ascent. The stars were brighter and afforded a little more light, enabling him to find hand and toe-holds marked down on his previous inspection. Flattened against the rock he worked his way upward almost inch by inch, while his companion watched and muttered things which might have passed for prayers to a careless listener. At the end of ten minutes, the climber had accomplished as many feet, and paused to rest. It was going to be even more difficult than he had looked for. An idea came.
“Frosty, I'm a bone-head," he said in a low tone. "Yo're tellin' me," was the sarcastic reply.
“There's a knob, 'bout twelve feet above me. Think yu could rope her?”
The first throw proved abortive, the falling noose slapping Sudden sharply across the face, nearly causing him to lose hold.
“I'll bet the Double K cows get a lot o' fun outa yu," was his chaffing comment.
The second attempt was successful, the loop settling over the protuberance. Frosty threw his weight upon it, to make sure. Hand over hand, Sudden hauled himself up to the knob, and let the rope fall; it could be of no further use tohim. A brief rest and he continued the climo. As he had hoped, the worst was over, but the task was still superhuman. Already his arms were aching under the terrific strain of supporting almost the whole weight of his body. Once or twice a foot slipped and only a desperate and lucky clutch at some slight inequality saved him from dropping to death on the boulders below.
Foot by foot he struggled up, digging his fingers into crevices, trusting his life to clinging roots which, only too frequently, came away in his grasp. More than once he fell foul of clumps of choya cactus and cursed as the vicious spines tore his flesh. But he set his teeth and battled on, fighting the inanimate rock as though it were a sentient being. To the watcher below, straining his sight to follow the dark patch spread-eagled against the cliff-face, time seemed endless, but at length he saw the faint glow blotted out and realized that Sudden had succeeded. A fervent oath testified his relief.
“He's made it," he muttered. "Sufferin' snakes, he'll go to Paradise all right, when his time comes—they'll never be able to keep him out.”
Frosty's sense of satisfaction was but a shadow to that of the climber as he gripped the lower edge of the hole whence the light came and lifted himself to a tiny ledge beneath it. Here, panting for breath and with pain in every protesting muscle, he rested. The view was wonderful. He seemed to be sitting on the rim of a gigantic bowl of blackness, canopied by a velvet dome sprinkled with twinkling pin-pricks of light. But he had not come there to admire scenery, and after a few moments, he raised himself and peered through the opening. It was the outlet of a short tunnel, sufficiently large for a man to crawl along, and widening out into a sort of window-seat when it reached the room within.
For an instant he feared he had made the mistake of climbing to the Chief's own abode, for this place too was comfortably furnished; a carpet, a bed in one corner, chairs and a table. Then he saw that it was smaller, and had a flight of rude steps cut out of the wall on one side. Seated at the table, smoking, and reading by the light of a kerosene lamp, was the man he had risked so much to reach. Apart from the pallor of his skin, due to confinement, he had not the appearance of a prisoner. To the puncher he seemed oddly familiar; height and build were those of the bandit leader, and the dandified cowboy clothes increased the resemblance, but he was some years younger, and wore no mask. Presently he turned his head and Sudden stifled a cry of satisfaction; he had guessed right.
“Howdy, stranger.”
The man at the table sprang to his feet, whirled, and stared in blank amazement at the intruder leaning carelessly with his back to the window opening.
“Who are you, and how on earth did you get here?" he gasped.
“A friend, an' I just dumb up," the visitor explained. "you—climbed—up?" the other repeated, and there was fear in his pale blue eyes. "Impossible.”
Sudden smiled. "Yu see me, an' I ain't wearin' wings," he pointed out.
“Why have you come?"
“I'm takin' yu outa this."
“I've no desire to leave; in fact, I refuse." The metallic clang of a bolt being withdrawn over their heads made him start. "Someone is coming; get away while you can.”
Sudden drew a gun. "I'm stayin'," he said. "I shall be at the window, hehind the blanket. If I'm discovered,, yu an' the other fella will take the last leap together.”
He disappeared just as a trap-door in the roof opened and a man came down the steps. Sudden had expected to see Silver, but it was the Chief himself, and he was alone.
“Well, my friend," he greeted. "Was I dreaming, or did I hear voices?"
“You heard mine," the prisoner replied. "I talk aloud sometimes, just to convince myself that I am not dead, and buried in a tomb. I'd risk a lot to breathe God's good air again—one can't here."
“Of course not, when you keep it out with a curtain," the other retorted, and moved towards the window. "It's a lovely night."
“Leave the damned thing alone, I pulled it on purpose," was the irritable response. "It's cold, and I hate the sight of a world in which I have no part. There are days when I dream I am riding again, the wind slapping my face, the ground sliding beneath my horse's belly, birds singing, streams gurgling down the hillsides, and I wake to find myself in this cursed stone cage. It will send me mad."
“I know it's tough, boy, but what can I do?" Satan replied. "Only this morning I got news that Dealtry is still on the warpath, and offering a thousand dollars for word of the slayer of his son. He has spies all over the country, and my men—though they serve my purpose—are of the type who would sell a brother for a couple of gold pieces. This is the only place where you are safe; anyone who told you different would be no friend."
“The old, old story," the prisoner sneered, and then, "Must you wear that mask when you visit me?"
“As I have many times told you, it is my unbreakable rule. I prefer to remain a man of mystery; it gives me power over the ignorant people I have to deal with, and not one of them, in later years, will be able to say he has known me."
“Always the play-actor--you should have stuck to the stage," came the scornful comment. "How is the cattle business?"
“When we are ready to clean up and leave here there should be a big bank-roll to split," was the reply. "Is there anything more I can get you?"
“I have all I want, save that which means all—freedom.”
“That may not be so long; if Dealtry should meet with an accident—"
“No, I will not have any dirty work," came the sharp interjection.
“My dear fellow," Satan remonstrated, "I am not suggesting it, but Dealtry is a good sheriff and no man can be that without making enemies. If one of these seizes an opportunity, I decline to be held responsible, or to wear mourning. Adios.”
With a light laugh he went up the stairway. Sudden waited until he heard the bolts shoot home and then stepped out, to be met with a mocking smile.
“Well, Mister Interloper, you have wasted your time, you see."
“If there's anythin' yu wanta take along, get it."
“But, my good man, you heard what my friend said; I have an excellent reason for staying here."
“I've a better for not lettin' yu an' I'm holdin' it," the puncher replied meaningly. "If yu'd ruther be tied ...”
The unknown looked at the levelled revolver, then at the cold eyes and athletic form of its owner, and realized that he was helpless. From a peg in the wall, he took down a hat and clapped it on his head.
“The gun wins," he said.
Sudden sheathed the weapon, and began to unwind the ropes he had brought. This done, he joined them, and his gaze roved round the room in search of something to serve as a cross-bar. A stout leg wrenched from the table providedthis, and with one end of the rope knotted in the middle, was placed across the window. The slack, Sudden pitched out into the night, and turned to the prisoner, who had watched these preparations with evident misgiving.
“Go ahead," he said. "Our weight will keep that bit o' wood in place, but don't hurry or yu'll be liable to bust yore brains out. I'll be right after yu."
“Wouldn't it be safer to make that rope secure at this end?”
“Shore, but I ain't leavin' an easy way o' follerin' us; yore friend mighta forgot somethin'.”
With a gesture of resignation, the other crawled out. On the brink of the black abyss which yawned at his feet, he hesitated, and then, gripping the frail support, lowered himself, hand over hand. It was not easy; the rope was thin, rendering a deliberate descent wellnigh impossible, and speed resulted in burned palms and a body bruised by bumps against protruding portions of the cliff. Lack of exercise, too, had softened his sinews, and the drag of his body soon numbed his arms. His mind was obsessed by the thought that the table-leg might slip, and then ... A scrape of boots and a fragment of stone which whizzed past his ear reminded him that his captor was running the same risk.
Spinning dizzily, slithering, holding the rope with hands which seemed to be on fire, he dropped what appeared to be an interminable depth. He heard the whicker of a horse and it gave him an idea: if he could reach the animal and ride off before the stranger completed the descent ... A moment later he staggered backwards as his feet impacted on solid ground. Recovering his balance, he was about to run when a voice said: "Hold on, yu. Where's Jim?”
A dark form a little way up the cliff, which suddenly gained momentum, curled itself up, and sent them both rolling, answered the question.
“Right here," it said, sitting up and stretching its limbs experimentaly. "On'y bruises, seem'ly. Why didn't yu stop me?"
“Well, of all the gall," Frosty retorted. "What was yore hurry, anyway?"
“Somethin' fetched loose," Sudden told him. "Reckon that cross-bar warn't such a notion after all." He explained.
“I'll say it wasn't—the damned thing on'y missed my head by an inch," the Double K man agreed feelingly. "Yu must be loco to take a chance like that for a couple o' ropes, an' they warn't even our'n."
“Yore ideas o' honesty won't never lose yu nothin' 'cept yore liberty," Sudden told him.
When they were mounted, he led the way west. The rescued man appeared to be indifferent as to his fate, and asked no questions. Sudden rode head down, deep in thought, and Frosty's efforts to enliven the journey met with a chilling response.
“Yu'll hear all about it presently," he was told. "What's the use tellin' things twice over?”
Some time later they pulled up outside the Twin Diamond ranch-house. Though it was near midnight, there was a light in the living-room, and Merry himself answered the rap on the door. He seemed surprised to see them.
“Hello, boys," he said. "Come right in.”
They filed into the house, Sudden bringing up the rear, and for a moment there was an awkward silence, the rancher studying the third man curiously. Then he said: "Why this visit?"
“We've brung back the hosses," Frosty informed. "What hosses?"
“Them I borried—yu warn't around, so I couldn't ask. There was a couple o' ropes, too."
“How come yu overlooked the ranch-house?" Merry enquired ironically."We wasn't needin' firewood," Frosty grinned.
The fat man laughed, too. "That'll be enough from yu, Mister Impudence. What's it all mean, Jim?”
Sudden told him, his recital being punctuated by profane expressions of amazement from the rancher. When it was finished, he said : "An' who is this fella yu risked breakin' yore neck for?"
“One who only desired to be left alone," the unknown replied gruffly.
Sudden deftly twitched the pulled-down hat from the speaker's head. "I guess yu know him," he said. Open-mouthed, Merry stared at the man disclosed, who glared back defiantly.
“Jeff Keith!" he cried. "Then who the blisterin' hell is the Red Mask?”
Frosty, upon whom the revelation had produced a petrifying effect, now came to life again. "Mebbe Jeff can tell us?" he suggested.
The young man looked at Sudden. "You're the clever guy," he jeered. "Suppose you tell me."
“Right," the puncher said. "He is Lafe Lander, better knowed around here as Satan, boss of a band of outlaw thieves an' murderers, an' masqueradin' as—yu.”
Keith's expression was one of plain derision. "Are you expecting me to swallow such a tale?" he asked.
“It is true, boy," Merry said sternly. "Dressed like yu, speakin' in yore voice, and masked, he has deceived all who have seen him, even those who knew yu well, like Frosty here."
“That's so, Jeff," the Double K rider supplemented. "An' he trots out yore favourite cuss-word, too."
“But there's a good reason why he shouldn't want to be taken for me. It doesn't make sense."
“Look at it this way," Sudden said quietly. "Him an' his gang are plinderin' the country, killin' , stealin' cast, n' cattle, an' yo're gettin' the blame. If things get too hot, all he has to do is peel off that mask an' slide out, leavin' yu to face the music. Until now, yu alone have knowed who he is, an' yore dead body, with that strip o' velvet on it, would wipe the slate clean for him. He called yu his `ace in the hole'; it was a true word.”
The boy breathed hard and looked round helplessly. "It ounds incredible but the facts fit," he admitted. "Lafe would never let me leave that cursed vault—said it was too dangerous, one of his people might give me away.”
Another thought came. "Why didn't you take me to Red Rock? It would have been worth your while."
“The sheriff would like to see yu, shore enough, but he ain't offerin' to pay a thousand for the privilege," Sudden said drily. "That was just another lie."
“Then why did you come?"
“Yore father hired me to make war on Hell City. He :hanged his mind, but I didn't."
“He paid a gunman to get his own son," the boy said bitterly.
“No to prevent him getting deeper in the mire," was the sharp reply. "Yu were not to be harmed.”
The sneer was too much for Merry; he jumped up. "Get his straight, Jeff," he cried. "Yu've been a damned young fool, but I've allus stood by yu, an' I'm thunderin' glad matters ain't as bad as we feared, but yore father is a fine man, my friend, an' I won't hear a word against him." His anger went as quickly as it had come, and his customary smile was back as he finished, "Except from myself."
“I'm sorry, Mart," Keith replied. "My mind's in such a muddle ... Hell! I know you're all trying to help me, and I'll do anything you say, on one condition, that no news of this reaches the Double K. Possibly my father was justified, butuntil this tango: is straight out and I can go to him with clean hands ..."
“I guess that's the right play," the rancher agreed. "Ken is a proud man, sorely hurt, an' we gotta have absolute proof. Point is; what are we to do with yu?"
“He can stay here, but he'll have to lie close," Sudden said. "If that devil gets hold of him again, we're sunk. Now, I must be on my way.”
Keith held out a hand. "I'd like to thank you," he said. "Do you have to go back?"
“Nothin' else for it," Sudden replied. "If they haven't busted in that bedroom door, I'll be sittin' pretty. Frosty will look after yore bronc, Mart.”
As they raced through the night the Double K rider put a question.
“Did yu know it was Jeff yu were goin' after, Jim?”
“No, but I suspected Satan might not be the fella he was pretendin' to be; clever as he is, he slipped up once or twice. It ain't goin' to be easy to prove."
“But if Jeff shows hisself ..."
“Dealtry will gather him in, an' the other man will vanish. No, ol'-timer, that wouldn't work nohow; we gotta wait." Streaks of light were showing in the eastern sky when,they reached the secret entrance, and Sudden wasted no time in making the descent. He found the tied sentry and released him.
“If the Chief finds out 'bout this he'll crucify yu," he warned. "I'm sayin' nothin', an' recommendin' yu to do the same.”
Confident that the advice would be taken, he made his way to the saloon, climbed to his room, and was asleep in five minutes.
CHAPTER XX
Sudden was aroused by a loud, insistent hammering. He had lain down fully clothed, even to his spurs, and when he stumbled across the room to fling wide the door, his tousled appearance and sleep-laden eyes were what might have been expected after the night before. The saloon-keeper was outside.
“What th' hell?" the puncher said in a surly tone. "Can't a fella have any rest in this shebang?”
The man chuckled. "Which I'm right distressed to cut short yore slumbers thisaway," he said. "'Specially as you ain't had but a measly fourteen hours, but the Chief wants you—urgent."
“Say I'll come when I'm good an' ready," was the truculent answer.
Dirk looked concerned. "Best mosey along, friend," he advised. "Dunno what's amiss, but Scar brought the message, an' he sez the Chief is murder-mad.”
Sudden slapped on his hat, jerked his gun-belt into position, and grumbling, followed his host to the bar. Roden was waiting for them, and his beady eyes gleamed maliciously as they took in the cowboy's slovenly attire and disgruntled demeanour.
“Ain't feelin' so good, huh?" he said. "you certainly did git a skillful.”
Sudden blinked at him. "With that load yu'd be dead to the world for another twenty-four hours," he retorted. "Where's Silver?”
l left him with the Chief, an' he's the scaredest man in the south-west—if he's still alive," Scar replied.
“Bah! Silver is the on'y man he trusts," Dirk stated.
“You don't know him; he wouldn't trust his own mother,'" Roden scoffed. "Let's be movin'.”
Outside the entrance to the Chief's quarters several of the band were loafing, among them Squint.
“no an' take yore medicine, Sudden," he gibed.
The puncher paused. "Come an' get yores—now," he offered, and when the invitation was not accepted, laughed and went in.
Somewhat of a shock awaited him; erect before the masked man, her face deathly pale, stood Anita. A few feet away, eyes fearful, and his great body shaking on his short legs, was Silver. The presence of the woman warned Sudden that matters had gone amiss; he would need all his wits. Satan turned his basilisk gaze on the newcomers.
“Well?" he barked at Roden.
“He was carried to bed 'bout eight las' night, blind, an' I had to wait while Dirk waked him just' now," that worthy replied. "His hoss was in the corral at daybreak—it ain't bin rode recent.”
Satan nodded. "That appears to absolve you, Sudden.”
“If I knowed what th' hell yo're talkin' about, mebbe I'd thank yu," was the dry answer.
The bandit's cold eyes drilled into him. "A guest of importance to me has been kidnapped," he said. "That he was here was known only to myself and that half-wit"—he pointed to the dwarf—"until he has to get drunk and babble to this slut."
“Might 'a' walked out on yu."
“Impossible; he was lodged in a room some thirty feet below this, and would have had to come through here, or use the opening for air and light.”
Sudden moved to the window and looked out. "Yu ain't accusin' a gal o' climbin' this cliff, are yu?"
“No, but none the less, that's how it was done; there are tracks of three horses beneath. Silver was here with me all the time."
“That lets him out," the puncher agreed.
Inwardly, he was cursing the cowardly brute who, in the hope of saving his own skin, had betrayed the girl. That he himself would be at once suspected he had foreseen, hence the elaborate alibi. Covertly studying the masked man anew, he was amazed at his resemblance in build, manner, and voice to young Keith. Satan put another question.
“I have told you all," Anita protested. "This—ape"—her contempt was real enough—"threatened to make trouble for me unless I gave him whisky; he took too much, and mumbled something about a solitary prisoner; it did not interest me.”
The bandit bent forward, hls gaze intent. "That is a lie," he hissed. "Fool, to try to trick one who can read your brain. It was an opportunity to avenge the loss of your lover. Tell me the name of your accomplice, or ...”
Though the accuracy of his deduction must have startled her, the woman's eyes, calm, unwavering, met his. "I know nothing of it," she said.
With the snarl of a beast, the bandit stepped forward as though about to strike, but instead, twisted her round, ripped open the flimsy shirt-waist she was wearing, and called, "Muley.”
From the shadows near the door, the one-time teamster emerged, his pig-eyes glittering bestially as they rested on the victim's bared shoulders.
“Can you write?" Satan asked, and when the fellow shook his head, went on, with a horrible laugh, "Then you must make your mark, a cross, Muley, so." He gestured with onehand. "Six strokes, and we will repeat the dose daily until she unlocks her lips.”
Though there was stark terror in her eyes, Anita uttered no sound, but the grip on the torn raiment with Which she strove to cover her bosom tightened, and she shivered. Muley was toying with his whip and feeding his unsated lust for revenge upon the frail flesh he soon would mar for ever. This was better than Pedro. He was squaring his shoulders to begin his task when Sudden spoke.
“Thrashin' her won't get yu no place, Satan; she can't tell what she don't know. I'm the fella yo're after.”
He had no sooner said the words than a gun was rammed into his ribs and Scar warned, "No funny stuff, Sudden, or...”
His frame rigid, the puncher continued his confession. "Yeah, I took yore `guest'—the woman had nothin' to do with it. A few nights ago, passin' one o' these rat-holes, I heard Silver's voice, an' bein' curious, slipped in an' listened. He was chuckin' a chest, tryin' to impress the gal with his own importance, an' was plenty drunk. It was me crawled up the rock, an' I was hidden in the window-hangin's when yu paid yore visit last night.”
The masked man's face had lost its immobility; doubt was swiftly followed by certainty and an insensate rage as he realized that this enigmatical stranger had surprised his secret and now defied him. His usually glassy eyes flamed, and for the moment, he was mad.
“By God !" he swore. "I'll have your hide off for this," and motioned to Muley.
“Yo're forgettin' somethin', Satan," came the icy reminder. "I ain't a mongrel, like Pedro, nor a woman; whippin' won't wring a word from me, an' if I should chance to cash in, yu won't see yore friend Lander again.”
The mention of the name brought a quick look from the • bandit. He hesitated, and then said abruptly "Roden, you and Muley can go. Take the woman with you, but she is not to leave the town.”
They filed out, Anita leading; she did not speak, or even glance at the puncher as she passed, listless, and apparently indifferent. Her companions, dumbfounded by this unexpected development, were also silent. When they had gone, the Chief looked at Silver, who was awaiting his turn with obvious trepidation.
“It seems you have been merely indiscreet," he said. "Get to your post, or ...”
He tapped the butt of one of his revolvers and Sudden wondered was it a signal? He heard the door open and shut, but it did not deceive him—Silver's "post" would be behind the picture; that the stunted man knew nothing of firearms he had never credited for an instant. The Chief appeared to have regained his temper.
“This is a most unfortunate occurnence, Sudden," he began, "The fellow you released was here for his own good. Dealtry is seeking him for the shooting of his son. Now I did that killing—you see, I am frank with you—but I knew that Lander would be fastened upon because there was bad blood between them. So he had to be hidden—I could not let him suffer for my own act."
“It would 'a' cleared yu." The callous comment was made with deliberation.
“True, but he was a friend."
“Makes a difference, o' course," Sudden conceded. "Well, I 'pear to 'a' gone to a lot o' trouble to make the wrong play, but that's me—get a notion an' rush at it like an angry steer, without stoppin' to think. Oughta seed he was contented where he was."
“His conversation with me should have told you that.”
“Couldn't hear much, an' I just hated the idea o' sweatin' up that cliff tor nothin' ; I guess I didn't give him any choice.' "Who helped you?”
Sudden shook his head. "I ain't tellin'. He warn't one o' yore folk, don't know anythin', an' all he did was fetch the hosses.”
To his surprise, the bandit did not press the point. "Where is Lander now?"
“Dunno—I just turned him loose," the puncher replied, and his eyes creased at the corners. "I had to get back."
“I can't imagine why you meddled," Satan said peevishly.
“Beats me, too, lookin' it over, but prisons is pizen to me, an' that rock seemed a sort o' challenge. Sounds loco, but there it is. Say, s'pos'n I can round up Mister Lander an' bring him in again?"
“That's an idea," Satan said. "I'll admit I'm anxious about him; it would be awkward if he fell into the sheriff's hands."
“Shore would—for him," Sudden grinned. "Leave it to me.”
He went out and breathed deeply when he reached the open air, it had been a near thing. How far he had succeeded in deceiving the masked man he could not tell, but he had saved the woman, and was himself still at liberty. No doubt he would be watched, so when presently he passed Anita, it was with a face of stone; she too showed no sign of recognition.
“She's got savvy," he murmured, as he entered the store in search of tobacco.
Almost on his heels, Silver came in, purchased six boxes of cartridges, and with a sheepish look at the puncher, departed.
“What's he want with all that gun-fodder?"
“They's for his boss," the tradesman said. "He's my on'y customer for thirty-eights, but he uses a hell of a lot of 'em—practises every darned day, Silver sez.”
Which provided Sudden with fresh food for thought, and a question for Dealtry when he next encountered him. Meanwhile, the man he had left was sitting deep in doubt. Once more the puncher had him puzzled. Had he really blundered blindly into the affair as he had stated, or ...? He dismissed the alternative with an oath and a shrug—the overweening vanity of his nature made any stupidity in a fellow-being possible. The all-important secret of his identity was still safe, but Keith's freedom was a danger.
“He would not dare to show his face at the Double K, Twin Diamond, or Red Rock," he mused. "He must be in hiding, and if Sudden knows where, he will lead me to him." He called Silver. "Arrange for that cowboy to be shadowed," he ordered. "If he is lost sight of, I will have your ears torn off, which would make you still more ugly.”
The dwarf nodded and hurried away, but when the door was between them he shook a menacing fist at it. Incapable as his brutish senses were of finer feelings, he remembered Anita's gleaming shoulders and hated the man who would have made them hideous.
His exit was followed by the entrance of Belle Dalroy. Throwing her gloves and quirt on the table, she dropped into a chair and crossed her legs, fully conscious that her short riding-skirt displayed her shapely limbs to advantage.
“Heavens, but it's hot outside," she said, and then, "What's the matter, Jeff? You look as though you'd lost a dollar and picked up a dime.”
The unwinking gaze travelled over her from head to foot. She was a pretty woman, even more than that, in her own style, but the man was comparing her with another and found her lacking.
“So you have been to Dugout?" he remarked, ignoring her question.
She started. "Who—?" she began, and laughed. "Of course, it would be reported to you."
“You might have turned off the trail," he pointed out, and bent his head, thinking. "It comes dimly to me; you met someone from the Double K ranch.”
This time he certainly scored. "It is true," she admitted. "I saw the Keith girl, in the store, and she sailed past as though I wasn't there.”
Satan smiled. "She probably knows of our—friendship," he said. "And if she still cares for me ..." He noted the tiny crease between her brows. "I haven't seen her for some time," he lied. "She should be quite pretty.”
The girl guessed his game—he had played it before; cruelty in any form was an amusement to him.
“She is beautiful," Belle said with studied indifference. "Now that you have disinherited yourself the ranch will go to her, I suppose? Is it a good one?"
“You could ride for two days in any direction and find none to equal it."
“And you threw it away rather than marry her."
“I prefer to choose my own wife." His lips curled maliciously. "It was a mistake, no doubt, but mistakes can be rectified.”
His meaning was plain enough, and despite her effort to control herself, a flush of anger stained her cheeks.
“You don't exactly despise yourself, do you, Jeff?" she said. "You think, with your record, that she would take you?"
“Love is all-powerful," he mocked. "It will find a way, and it forgives."
“Some day I may remind you of that," she replied, and picking up her things, left him to his reflections.
That they were not of the pleasantest was evident from his expression. The loss of the man whose dead body would slam the door on Satan the bandit and leave Lafe Lander a free, wealthy, and unsuspected citizen had been a shrewd blow. Either he must get Keith back, or ... Already in that cunning, unscrupulous brain another desperate design, bred of his conversation with Belle Dalroy, was taking shape.
At the Twin Diamond ranch Keith found that he had but moved to another prison; he dared not show himself. The outfit knew there was a visitor whose presence must not be spoken of, but—except the cook—no one saw him. He spent his time reading, and gazing hungrily out over the range. The rancher was shocked at the change two years had wrought: the gay, high-spirited youth he remembered had become a moody man, silent for the most part, brooding over the perilous position in which he was placed. The information he gleaned from Merry only served to deepen his gloom as he realized the net of infamy from which he had yet to escape.
“Who is this cowboy—Jim, you called him—and why is he fighting Hell City if my father fired him?" he asked.
Merry told what he knew of Sudden. "He figures Satan framed him in that cattle raid an' aims to get even," he finished.
“Five hundred head and thirty thousand cash would settle his debt, you'd think, yet he goes back to that hornets' nest," Keith said thoughtfully. "What more does he want?"
“That red-masked devil's hair," Merry replied grimly. "Jim's a good payer. Frosty told me that years gone he promised a dyin' man he'd bring to book a couple o' human skunks. He's still searchin', but I don't reckon he'll ever meet up with 'em." (The rancher was wrong, and the story of the finding has been recorded in another place)) "If that's the kind o' hairpin he is, I'd hate to have him on my trail.”
For a day or so, the prisoner bore his confinement with what patience he might, but on the third morning he stopped the rancher as he was going out, and said abruptly: "Mart, I want a pony," and when his host hesitated, added passionately, "I'm not running away, but if you'd been cooped up in a cave for nigh two years wouldn't you want to sling a leg over a horse and feel the spring of him under you?”
The appeal was too much for a man who almost lived in the saddle—the rancher gave in. "But for your own sake, ride south," he warned. "The Double K boys is mighty nervous o' strangers these times an' liable to shoot first an' enquire after."
“I'll keep out of sight," Keith promised.
Nevertheless, an hour later, when he loped away from the ranch-house, an irresistible magnet drew him towards the Double K range. The short, crisp grass sliding beneath his horse's feet, the aromatic tang of the sage in his nostrils, the wide expanse with the purple hills on the far horizon, the rush of warm air on his cheeks as he gathered speed sent a thrill of new life through his veins. Heedlessly he rode on, exulting in the freedom he had lacked so long. Presently familiar landmarks warned him that he was actually on his father's land.
Greedily his eager gaze swept over the miles of open plain, rising and falling like the rolling billows of a greenish-brown sea dotted with timbered islands. It was a view to delight the heart of a cattleman. And he had thrown it away, exiled himself to become a homeless, hunted man !
Suddenly mindful of his promise, he was about to retreat when another actor appeared on the scene. From behind a large clump of cactus and thorn came a racing pony, carrying a woman. Hatless, rocking in the saddle, she appeared to be trying to halt the beast but without avail; a dangling strip of leather told the reason—a rein had snapped. Keith swore; he recognized that slim, swaying figure and saw that the maddened horse was heading for what the cowboys called the Glue-pot, a quaking morass from the clammy clutch of which there was no escape.
A rake of the spurs sent his mount hurtling forward in an attempt to intercept the runaway, and he cursed again as he found no lariat on his saddle-horn. Yard by yard the distance between the animals lessened until at length they were galloping side by side. Leaning over, the young man grabbed the sound rein, wound it round his wrist, and slackened pace. The double rawhide thong stood the strain and slowly but surely the steady drag brought the girl's pony to a standstill.
For one panting moment, Keith looked at her, noting the sun-kissed lovely face, framed in wind-tossed curls, the parted red lips, and the lissom grace of her youth. Here was something else he had thrown away, something—and the realization of it overwhelmed him—worth more than anything in the whole universe.
“You?" she cried, and cuttingly, "What have you done with your mask?"
“I have never worn such a thing," he said quietly. "Is that true?"
“Lying was not one of my faults, Joan,"
“Then you cannot be—"
“The boss of Hell City, as my father believes," he finished bitterly.
“As we all believed," she corrected gently. "Even I, who spoke with him."
“When was this?" he asked sharply.
She told him, and saw his jaw harden as he listened. "Changed as you seemed, I could not doubt," she ended. "He must know you well."
“He has yet to know me better," Keith promised. "At present, I cannot move; my hands are tied." He anticipated her question. "I am wanted for the shooting of young Dealtry at Red Rock."
“Oh, Jeff," she breathed. "You couldn't have ..."
“I don't know," he said miserably. "We'd had words, and I was drunk." He did not spare himself. "I can't remember what happened that night. Lander said I did it, and I could not contradict him. He got me away into hiding. I've been buried alive, Joan, and knew nothing of the foul reputation being foisted upon me. Hell, what a mess I've made of everything.”
Her eyes were moist. "It will come right, Jeff," she comforted. "This will be great news for Daddy Ken—he'll help you. He has been terribly hurt, and that has made him hard, but—"
“He must not be told—yet," he broke in. "I got into the mire and must get out. Promise to keep silent, Joan, or I will ride out of the country and never return.”
She smiled, albeit a little sadly. This was the old Jeff, dominant, who always got his own way by just such a means when they played together as children. She must give in—it was no empty threat. What had been boastfulness in the boy had become resolution in the man.
“Very well," she said. "Have you any plans?"
“No, I'm rather relying on that cowboy, Green, who took me out of Hell City. A strange fellow; I don't quite know what to make of him."
“Trust a woman's intuition and make him a friend, Jeff," she advised. "He has my confidence."
“I'd accept the Devil himself with that backing," he smiled, and slid from his saddle. "Reckon that bridle wants fixing." Busy with the task, he spared a moment to glance up at her. "By Christmas, it's good to see you again, Joan, and you're prettier than ever, which I wouldn't have believed possible," he blurted out.
A tell-tale flush suffused the girl's cheeks. She shook a finger at him. "Attend to your job, sir," she said, and then, "I have not thanked you for saving, perhaps, my life; this feather-brain was running straight for that horrible swamp."
“you don't ever have to thank me for anything," Keith said earnestly. "How comes it that you've nothing better than this half-broke beast to ride?”
She stroked the animal's neck. "He's not bad, just young, inexperienced, and apt to have notions—" She stopped at the sight of his rueful face. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that, Jeff, but I was thinking only of the horse, truly I was."
“Never mind. I deserve all that's coming to me. What happened?"
“A road-runner got up under our feet, raced on fifty yards or so and then looked round and waited, with the usual insulting, challenging air. Of course, an older horse would have taken no notice, but this greenhorn has visions of trampling that impudent bird in the dust. As a lesson, I let him try for a while, but the runner was always two or three jumps ahead and travelling easily. Then I saw we were heading for trouble, tried to pull up, and the rein gave."
“It's all right now," he said, and mounted again.
She asked where he was staying, and laughed when—forgetting the brand on his pony—he teasingly told her it was a secret.
“Give my love to Mart," she said.
“Hi, don't you be too free with it," he retorted. "One of these days some fellow will come along and want it all. Maybe you'll be riding this way again?"
“Maybe I will," she smiled.
He grasped the outstretched hand, stooped swiftly, and pressed his lips to it. She blushed anew as she murmured: "The same impulsive Jeff."
“No, not the same,"he cried. "Changed in every way—but one.”
Abruptly he swung his horse round and spurred it across the plain. For a space she watched him and then turned homeward, a prayer on her lips, a song in her heart.
CHAPTER XXI
“Shore yu wasn't abroad yestiddy mornin'?" Lagley asked. "I have said so," Satan replied. "Why?"
“Fancied I saw yu, talkin' to Joan Keith, out on our range," the foreman explained. "The fella looked like yu, but he warn't masked nor ridin' a black."
“Was that all you could see?"
“Couldn't git close--it's pretty open round there, but he kissed her hand when they parted.”
Fire flashed in the stony eyes for an instant. There was a brief silence and then Satan said harshly: "Does the Colonel still pay his visit to Dugout?"
“Shore, he's due there to-morrow mornin'," Lagley's expression was one of unease. "What yu aimin' to do—Jeff?”
The familiar address produced a glare which made him regret it. "When I wish you to know anything, I shall tell you—Judas," came the searing answer.
Lagley left, hating the man who never lost an opportunity of humiliating him, and cursing the day he had put himself in his power.
“His tongue's wuss'n his dad's, blast him," he raged. "But once he's in the saddle at the Double K he'll have to tower his tone some, or ...”
As he reached the street, he cannoned into a tall figure, and stepped quickly back when the half-light revealed the saturnine features of Sudden.
“Well, if it ain't my of friend, Lagley," the puncher exclaimed."Cut names out, yu fool," the foreman said hastily.
The other stiffened. "Yu cut that sort o' name out, too," he rasped. "yu ain't my foreman now, an' it sticks in my mind that the last time we met yu wanted to hang me.”
The retort made Lagley uncomfortable. He remembered the lightning speed of this man's draw at their first meeting, the passing of Butch, and that they were in a lawless place.
“Hell, I had to obey orders," he said. "I was meanin' to fix it so yu could slide out durin' the night, but yu took charge."
“Yu bet I did—it was my neck," Sudden rejoined. "Mebbe the next world is better, but I ain't honin' to find out. Say, it was damn funny 'bout them cows; the Twin Diamond put one over on yu there, an' twisted Satan's tail for him good an' proper.”
He had not troubled to lower his voice and the Double K man's perturbation was plain to see.
“For Gawd's sake, dry up," he urged. "He'll hear yu.”
A guttural voice from the doorway interrupted: "Hey, Sudden, the Chief sez for you to come in when you've finished chin-waggin'."
“Damnation, what did I tell yu?" Lagley said.
The puncher laughed. "If he could hear us he'd 'a' gone on listenin'. Toddle back to the Double K an' be good, Steve; yu ain't got the nerve for this game.”
Without waiting for a reply, he followed Silver, who was waiting for him at the door. The bandit's first question did not surprise him.
“What were you saying to Lagley?"
“Complimentin' him on havin' neighbours smart enough to fetch his cattle back for him," Sudden grinned.
“It amuses you to lose a considerable sum of money, eh?”
“The fella who can laugh at his losses will win out in the end," was the philosophical reply.
“A pretty sentiment, no doubt," Satan sneered, "but one can get tired of laughing. When are you going to justify your presence in Hell City?"
“I rustled the herd—yu told me so yoreself, an' yu can't blame me for losin' 'em again," Sudden retorted impudently. "An' I got Butch for yu."
“For yourself—to save your own life," came the correction. "Where is Lander?”
The puncher's face lost its jaunty expression. "I dunno," he confessed. "Can't pick up a trace of him nohow; I reckon he's flew the coop.”
The bandit made a negative gesture. "A stranger was seen on the Double K range yesterday, talking with Joan Keith.”
Sudden's surprise was genuine. "The devil!" he said. "But he wouldn't know her, would he?"
“No, but they might have met by chance," Satan replied. "You must bring him back. If you fail to do this .. .”
He did not finish, but the relentless tone conveyed the unspoken threat. Sudden went out, apparently a chastened and thoughtful man. He left the bandit still brooding over the story Lagley had told.
“It couldn't have been Jeff—he would not dare speak to her," he argued. "And yet ...”
A vision of Joan as he had last seen her, the slim figure appearing to be part of the pony she bestrode and her lovely face rosy with indignation aroused by his attempted caress, came to torment him. Until that meeting, he had coveted the Double K range only, but then was born desire for the girl who would one day own it, and though he had not seen her since, that desire had become such an overwhelming passion that the very thought of another kissing even her finger-tips moved him almost to madness.
“She may still care for him, in spite of all," he said violently. "Well, friend Jeff, I'll plaster something on youwhich will turn love to loathing, an act so vile that the hand of every man must be against you, and women will shudder at your name. With the whole country raised, you'll be glad to sneak back into the only place where you can lie hidden—Hell City. Then, the game will be in my hands.”
For long he stood, gazing into the deepening darkness, while the plot which would give him, not only the girl for whom he lusted, but wealth and power, framed itself in his cold-blooded brain. One factor only was lacking, and he cursed the cowboy who had deprived him of it.
“Jeff will be hack, on his knees," he told himself. "After to-morrow.”
Notwithstanding his somewhat autocratic attitude towards his fellow-man, Colonel Keith was popular in Dugout. That he was just and generous compensated for the keenness of his tongue and as the owner of the largest ranch in the vicinity, his custom was an important consideration to a small community. So his weekly visit was a welcome event and had become a matter of routine. Always there was someone waiting to hitch his horse outside Black Sam's, but with the Colonel, business came first : the several tradesmen had to be visited, orders given, and the invariable invitation to drink the rancher's health extended.
On this particular morning, the final stage of the ritual had been reached and the cattleman was with his guests in the saloon. Standing there, straight as a young pine, he made an imposing figure in his full-skirted black coat, spotless linen shirt and trousers, and polished riding-boots. His aristocratic, rather severe features were softened by a smile as he grasped the julep Sam had mixed, and listened to the little speech Jansen was making. It was always the same.
“Colonel, thisyer town is mighty pleased to see you lookin' peart. Here's hopin' yore thirst won't never git ahead o' you."
“An' that's whatever," chorused the six or seven other citizens, while the saloon-keeper thumped the bar enthusiastically, pride in his old master transforming his face into one huge grin.
The Colonel bowed graciously. "My friends," he began. "I am—”
A harsh laugh halted him. From the doorway, a man dressed as a cowboy swaggered in, followed by half a dozen others, all of them—save the leader—gun in hand. Sam, the only one facing the street, had seen the intruders first; his smile vanished as though wiped off with a sponge, dismay taking its place. He knew them: Scar Roden and his two remaining rogues, three other Imps, and the sinister form in front, the mask beneath the slouched hat concealing all but the eyes and lips. Like men turned to stone the citizens stared at the red-badged rascals, conscious that a single hostile movement would start a slaughter. The negro made an effort to avert a catastrophe. Twitching the rancher's sleeve, he stammered :
“Yo done promised to speak to Mandy, sah. If yo step roun'—”
The look he received struck the rest of the sentence from his lips. The Colonel drew himself up, and in a steady voice, said, "My friends, I thank you. It is our custom on these happy occasions to toast the prosperity of Dugout. We shall still be doing that if we drink to the utter destruction of that robbers' roost, Hell City.”
He raised his glass, but before he could sample the contents, a bullet shattered it; with one movement the masked man had drawn and fired, and now stood, his teeth uncovered in an ugly snarl, the smoking gun in his hand. The Colonel dropped the remaining fragment, drew out a kerchief to wipe his fingers, and said calmly: "The same again, Sam.”
The hoarse tones of Roden issued a warning. "Stay put, you fellas; I ain't breakin' glasses.”
With a terror-drawn face the negro mixed the drink, his hands trembling so violently that he spilled the liquor. When at length it was completed, the rancher slowly raised the glass, drank, and set it back on the bar. The man in the mask laughed mockingly.
“Shakespeare said, `All the world's a stage,' and you never forget it," he taunted. "A real man would have shot me down."
“I had the misfortune to bring you into the world, and I prefer that the hangman should help you out of it," was the barbed retort.
“You'll never live to see it."
“So you have come to murder me? Well, it should round off your record nicely—a parricide.”
The unruffled demeanour and biting sarcasm seemed to flog the younger man into a fury. "By Christmas !" he cried. "And who is responsible for that record? The stiff-necked slave-driver who treated his son as he did the black-skinned brutes whose bodies and souls he used to traffic in, and when the boy rebelled, disowned and drove him to desperation. Damn you, I'm no son of yours, and if ever it appeared so, your wife must have had a lover.”
At this infamous aspersion on the dead woman he had worshipped the Colonel's face became livid. He bent forward, as though about to spring upon the traducer, his gaze seeking to penetrate the blood-red mask.
“You lying, foul-minded hound," he almost whispered. "Son or no son—" He stopped and shook his head. "Pull your gun, you—" the other raged.
The venomous insult failed. With a look of utter disdain, the rancher stood back and folded his arms. Instantly Satan fired, and the spectators saw the old man stagger under the impact of the heavy slug, clutch blindly at the bar, and fall prone on the floor. So swiftly had the tragedy happened that for a moment no one stirred. Then the black man, with a howl of grief, flung himself beside the body.
“Stand back everybody," Satan barked. "You can't help him, you scum. He got what he asked for; if he hadn't gone for that shoulder-gun—”
The negro looked up; sorrow had made him reckless. "He ain't wearin' none—neber knowed him to," he cried brokenly.
The slayer ignored the remark, gazing with horrible satisfaction at the still form of his victim. He turned to Jansen.
“I suppose I can trust you to see to the burying," he said. "If not, I'll—"
“We'll fix it," the store-keeper replied, adding with bitter emphasis, "You've done yore part."
“Don't be insolent," Satan snapped. "I'm the rightful owner of the Double K now, and—"
“You can take yore damned custom somewhere else," Jansen retorted bluntly. "I reckon that goes for all of us ;Dugout can get along without stolen money."
“You bet it can," Naylor chimed in, and the others nodded assent.
The bandit's fists clenched, and his men waited for the word which would set guns roaring and turn the place into a shambles. But it did not come.
“Dugout had better mind its step, or one morning it will wake up and find it isn't," Satan threatened, and followed his band out of the saloon.
As soon as they had gone, Sam, who was still crouched by his old master, beckoned the others.
“He ain't daid, but he's hurt pow'ful bad," he whispered. "Dasn't say nuffin' 'case dat debbil mak' sho'.”
The bullet had gone right through the body, just missing the heart. Jansen, who supplied the town with the simple medicines it required, and had some experience of injuries, shook his head as he busied himself with the bandages.
“His lungs is damaged an' he'll be bleedin' inside," he pronounced. "He's got the chance of a snowball in hell. There, I can't do no more; mebbe a jolt o' liquor will offset the shock.”
The strong spirit brought the stricken man to consciousness, his eyes opened, staring at them in wonderment. Then recollection came.
“It—was—an—accident," he murmured laboriously, and his voice growing somewhat, "Remember—all of you: I was handling my gun—it went off."
“Shore, Colonel, we won't forget," Jansen replied.. "Good," the sick man whispered. "Now—take me—home.”
His eyes closed again. The men looked at one another in consternation; the bumping of a vehicle over the rough trail would certainly complete the work of the bullet. Black Sam rolled his eyes in despair.
“We jus' gotta do it, gents," he said. "If de Kunnel come roun' an' fin' he ain't at de ranch, he'll sho'ly raise Cain an' pass right out. 'Ordehs is ordehs,' he allus sez, an' he's de obstinatest man I eber did see.”
It was the blacksmith who found a solution. "We'll make a sling outa blankets an' a couple o' poles, an' four of us can carry him, with two others along to take turn. Polter, you ride to Red Rock for the doctor, an' take yore gun in case he don't fancy the journey.”
So it was arranged. Naylor, as he turned away to help in the preparations, had a last word.
“Accident!" he said scornfully. "If ever I git my paws on that young devil's windpipe suthin' will happen but it won't be an accident. No, sir.”
* * * Along the road through the foothills Satan paced behind his retainers; he trusted no man or woman. Matters had gone according to plan and a fierce elation possessed him.
“I deceived them, every one, even my father," he exulted. "And those idiots away East said I couldn't act. This will make a stir in the country and drive Jeff back to me. And then, Satan must die and Lander vanish, to reappear later as a wealthy stranger in search of a ranch. He will fall in love with the Double K, also its fair owner, and those boors in Dugout will lick the dust off the boots of the man they would hang to-day if they dared. But I must get rid of that cursed cowboy—he knows—or suspects—too much.”
His low laugh reached the ears of the riders in front and moved Squint to speech: "I ain't what you'd call mealymouthed, but if I'd just bumped off my of man I dunno as I'd be all that amused.”
The man beside him, a half-breed, furtively crossed himself. "He make bargain wit' de Evil One," he muttered, with a fearful glance over his shoulder.
Scar grinned hardily. "I ain't carin' if he's the Evil One hisself so long as he pays well," he said. "But we ain't had no luck since that blasted cowpunch showed up.”
Satan's satisfaction was to be short-lived; some hours later Belle Dalroy burst in on him, still in her riding-kit and obviously excited. He received her with a studied indifference.
“What's the news from Dugout?" he asked.
Her eyes widened. "Who told you—oh, well, perhaps you also know what happened there?" she said petulantly."Tell me."
“Colonel Keith was in Black Sam's this morning and was doing something to his gun when it exploded, and—he's dead.”
The news shook him so severely that he forgot his pretence of omniscience; in a flash he saw that such an explanation would defeat the purpose for which he had committed the crime.
“Who told you that fine tale?"
“Mrs. Jansen, the store-keeper's wife; her husband was with the Colonel; he ought to know."
“All the same, it's a lie," Satan replied vehemently. "Keith was killed in a gunfight." He paused, and with sinister emphasis, added, "I ought to know; I was there.”
In those stony, implacable eyes she read the truth. "You, Jeff?" she stammered. "You—shot—your own father?"
“My own father," he mimicked. "Who forced me to herd with the dregs of humanity, hired one of them to slay me, and when that failed, tried to do it himself. Yes, I shot him, and would do it again—gladly.”
The last word was spat out with vicious intensity. He had no object or interest in justifying his action to this woman for whose opinion he cared nothing, but he had been playing the part of the prodigal son so long that it had become almost second nature.
That he had succeeded was soon evident. Appalled at first by the terrible confession, her shallow temperament, inured to an atmosphere of violence and wrong-doing, soon reacted, and having her own aims, she adopted his cynical attitude.
“Well, if that's how you feel about it," she said. "But I don't see it helps you to hand the Double K to the girl."
“It brings me a step nearer; if anything happened to her ..." His laugh chilled her blood. "In any case, I have two ways of regaining my heritage: take it by force, or marry Joan; this accident story should help me there."
“She might not consent."
“My dear Belle, I'm afraid you don't realize my persuasive powers," he drawled. "Obstinacy in a human being is not one of the incurable diseases.”
She did not look at him, fearful that he would divine her chagrin, for his marriage to Joan Keith spelt an end to her hopes. Again she asked why this man whose face she had never seen should have such a fascination? Possibly his cold ferocity appealed to her own lawless spirit. She could not answer; he was her man, and to keep him, she was prepared to dare anything, even his vengeance. With all his cleverness, he did not dream that this woman—fit only, in his estimation, to pander to his pleasure—was resolved to baulk him.
“It would be impossible, he could never get away with such an outrage," she told herself, but with no great conviction. "If he does ...”
CHAPTER XXII
That same afternoon, Sudden, stepping down to the store, saw Scar, Squint, and Coger leave the Chief's quarters. They were talking and laughing boisterously, but at the sight of him they ceased, and, bunching together, discussed something in low tones. He stalked past, obtained the tobacco he needed, and set out again for the saloon. The men had vanished, but aware that Satan's patience must be nearly exhausted, he was on the alert. Anita slid by, her averted head hidden in a mantilla.
“Roden is waiting for you, behind the stones," she murmured.
Sudden took no notice, save to slacken his stride while he rolled and lighted a cigarette; he required a few moments to consider this new development. One thing was certain—he had outstayed his welcome; Scar would not dare to act without instructions. They would be three to one, but of course, they counted on a surprise.
“An' they may get one," the puncher said grimly.
Twenty yards further along were the remains of a log shack; the roof had gone, and the walls rose only a few feet, but would afford some protection to a kneeling man. Almost opposite was a group of boulders, fallen fragments from the cliff too big to be removed, and affording ideal shelter for the ambushers. The street appeared to be empty, but from several doorways Sudden saw protruding heads.
“Friend Scar has passed the word that I'm to be dealt with," Sudden told himself.
He strolled carelessly on, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, but with every nerve and muscle keyed for immediate action. At the moment he came to the shack, three men with levelled guns rose from behind the boulders and Scar's rasping tones rang out.
“Reach for the sky, Sudden; we got you to rights.”
Two lightning leaps to the left and the threatened man was crouching among the tumbled timbers of the cabin. Three bullets which whizzed past his ears left him untouched.
“An' now yu ain't," Sudden retorted, punctuating the remark with a couple of shots, one of which tore the hat from Scar's head, while the other brought Coger staggering into the open, only to fall, face downwards, in the dust, the sun glinting on the barrel of the pistol in one outflung hand.
A torrent of curses testified to the feelings of the dead man's companions, and then Scar spoke again: "Hey, Sudden, whatsa use shootin' us up? The town is closed an' you can't git away. We got orders to take you in."
“Come ahead," the puncher replied. "Yu won't do it burrowin' behind them rocks like the poison toads yu are." A succession of shots answered the invitation, but the marksmen were hampered by the necessity of having to bob up, fire, and vanish all in a second or so, the accuracy of the other man's shooting leaving no margin for delay. As it was, Squint lost half an ear, and Scar's temple was scorched by a bullet which came within an inch of putting a period to his interest in earthly affairs. Followed a lull, the attackers being unwilling to take any further risks with this lean-visaged devil, who laughed at danger and shot as one inspired.
“Keep close—he can't git away," Roden growled. "If he don't give in soon, I'll sing out for help, but I didn't want the Chief to think we couldn't curry a Ii'l hoss like this."
“So it's easy, huh?" Squint replied, wiping the blood from his torn ear. "Glad you told me—I mightn't 'a' noticed it.”
Secure behind his timber rampart, Sudden, while keeping a keen eye on the enemy, was trying to find a way out of his difficulty. Even if he slew Scar and Squint, there were others to take their place, and he could not fight the whole town. He had almost decided to surrender and trust to the slender chance of bluffing the bandit leader once more when a faint footfall from behind made him look round. He was just in time to leap to his feet as Muley, with a bellow of rage, hurled his huge bulk at him.
Sudden's right-hand gun spoke viciously but could not stop the bull-like charge. The great arms gripped their prey, and the attacker's weight, with the impetus of his spring, sent both men to the ground. Winded by the fall, and pinned down by his heavy opponent, the puncher was powerless. Then, when an exultant shout proclaimed that Scar and his companion had seen what was happening and were hastening to Muley's aid, he made a desperate effort and succeeded in flinging the burden aside. He scrambled to his feet only to look into the muzzles of two guns.
“Put 'em up!" Roden roared. "Squint, take his hardware an' frisk him.”
With an evil grin, the cross-eyed rogue drew the weapons from their holsters and pawed the prisoner over for a possible "hide-out." Then, gazing curiously at the prostrate giant, stooped and shook him by the shoulder.
“Hey, Muley, you got him, of hoss," he cried. "Hell's bells, he's dead!”
Scar's remark was characteristic: "Muley usually had money.”
Sudden watched Squint despoil the body. "Buzzards ain't got nothin' on yu two," he said acidly. "What now?"
“March," Roden ordered. "An' don't try no tricks or you'll be travellin' to hell on the heels o' them others. You'd be startin' now on'y the Chief said, `Alive, if possible.' "
“I'm agreein' with him," Sudden rejoined airily.
He stepped out and his escort followed him, their weapons ready for instant use. Curious citizens, comprehending that, the battle over, there was no longer danger of flying lead, emerged to see them file by. Ignorant of what it was all about, they gathered that this stern young stranger who had slain Butch and seemed on such good terms with their leader, was now in disgrace. Men who had witnessed the affray from the saloon now came hurrying down, bringing news of the casualties, and a hum of excitement passed along the line of onlookers.
“Muley an' Coger, huh?" one commented. "An' damn near Scar an' Squint as well. He's got guts."
“He'll need 'em," said a second. "There's others can use a whip, 'sides Muley.”
Even after the prisoner and his guards had entered the Chief's abode, they hung about; judgments in Hell City were apt to be swiftly given and executed.
The bandit leader, seated at his table, looked up as the three men entered. The prisoner spoke first.
“What's the meanin' o' this?" he demanded. "If yu wanted me yu'd on'y to say so.”
Through the holes in the mask the unblinking eyes regarded him with malicious satisfaction. "Where is the man you took away?"
“I dunno—ain't seen him since."
“you are lying, as you have been all through. Are you the outlaw, Sudden, or is this a lie, too?”
He held up a paper, the bill issued by the sheriff of Four-ways. The puncher laughed scornfully.
“So that's why Steve stole it? Yeah, it's me all right. D'yu figure any fella would borrow a reputation like that?"
“If he wanted to work for me and win my confidence, yes," was the reply.
Sudden saw that the man's keen mind was leading him perilously near the facts and made an effort to head him off.
“I drifted here in search of a job, an' if yu an' that houn' Lagley hadn't framed me I'd still be ridin' for the Double K," he pointed out. "An' I basted four o' yore bullies the day I come."
“Which might be a good way of attracting my attention," the other countered. He studied the paper again. "The description agrees—you must be this Sudden—"
“Gimme back my guns an' I'll prove it," the puncher offered.
Satan appeared not to hear. "No, he couldn't use a man like you," he muttered, and then, through his set teeth, "By God! I'll know the truth if I have to cut your heart out. Tell Muley to get ready.”
Scar shot a vindictive glance at his prisoner. "Muley has done with whippin'," he said, and went on to explain.
Satan heard him in silence and then came the inevitable gibe: "Only four of you against one? Roden, your courage astounds me; you may yet live to be a man." He looked darkly at the puncher. "Killing Muley won't save you; we must think of something else." He bent his head. When he raised it again a fiendish grin distorted his lips; so might the King of Hell have smiled at the writhings of a tortured soul. "You robbed me of a target once," he said. "You shall replace him.”
At his call, Silver appeared, received instructions, and went out. Sudden was remembering Dolver, to whom he had dealt a merciful death. Was he to be immured in that living tomb, to endure the agony of dying daily? Often enough in his adventurous life he had faced eternity undismayed but the prospect of such an end brought a black moment. One leap, and the guns at his back would speak, with swift oblivion. But the puncher was not one to throw his hand in; he would play the game out, win or lose. The big bell began to ring, slow, measured strokes, like a death-knell.
His tanned face rigid as that of a redskin, he was herded into the street, where a crowd was waiting. The murmur of voices died away as the culprit, his guards, and the masked man came out.
“Where's Muley?" a blowzy woman asked.
“In hell, I reckon," a man at her elbow replied. "This is the hombre what sent him there. It ain't goin' to be a thrashin'; see the way they's fixin' him?”
Silver was busy. Having placed the condemned man with his back to the post, he bound him tightly to it with rawhide thongs so that only his head was movable. The big hat he flung down.
“You won't need it no more," he said.
“The Chief's goin' to shoot him hisself, like he did that dago, Ramon," the fellow who had spoken before informed his neighbour.
“It'll be quick then," she answered, her tone tinged with disappointment.
“Mebbe not. That time he shot all round him without drawin' blood an' then turns away as if that's all. I see Ramon's eyes light up an' phut! there's a bullet in his brain."
“He's a good-looker," the woman commented. "Seems a'most a pity ..."
“Hell, men is common enough.”
The dwarf completed his work, and Satan, standing about a dozen paces in front of the puncher, raised a hand dramatically for silence.
“This man is a traitor, therefore a danger to all of us," he announced.
“I am about to punish him.”
He drew one of the ivory-butted revolvers from his belt and, scarcely taking aim, fired. Sudden felt the thud of the missile as it embedded itself in the post just above his head. A gasp from the crowd broke the tense silence which followed the crack of the report.
“He's missed," the woman whispered.
“He's playin' with him, like he did the other. Gawd, he's a cruel devil. Look, if he ain't laughin'.”
In fact, it seemed so, for beneath the mask the lips were curled back like those of a snarling dog, as the man bent forward to mark the result of his shot. The face of the target might have been cut out of stone, the eyes staring steadily into the sunlight which in a moment might change to everlasting darkness.
“A shade too high, Sudden. I am out of practice—you know why," the taunting voice said. "That must be mended." Again he pulled the trigger and the shot struck a little below the first. "Better," he smiled complacently, and waited nerve-shattering moments before making a third attempt. This time Sudden felt the cold breath of the bullet as it stirred his hair, and steeled himself for the fourth, which ... It came, bringing a streak of fire, as though a red-hot iron had been laid across his scalp. Satan was speaking.
“You have begun to die, Sudden. Unless you supply the information I want in the morning, you will continue to die, slowly, as Dolver did. Think it over." He looked round at the spectators. "Anyone who approaches or speaks to this man will take his place.”
He thrust the revolver back into his belt, and followed by his henchman, went to his quarters. The crowd dispersed quickly, the show was over, and—curiosity could be very costly in Hell City.
“Ain't you goin' to have him watched?" Silver ventured. "Don't you trust your knots?" his master said sharply. "He'll have to be a wizard to undo 'em."
“Well, do you imagine any person will dare to interfere with him?" was the arrogant answer.
Meanwhile, the reprieved man was wondering whether he ought to be glad or sorry. Tough as he was, the strain of the ordeal had tried him to the utmost. His head smarted but he knew it was, as yet, the merest graze. Tomorrow, unless he gave in—and he had no intention of doing so—the lead would bite a little more shrewdly, and the next day ... But it was no use thinking that way. He tried to move his stiffened limbs, but Silver had done a good job, and he soon realized that there was no hope in that direction. So he watched the shadows deepen, the stars come out, and the denizens of this criminal community slinking from hole to hole like a colony of predatory vermin. From the saloon came the jingle of a piano and the shouted chorus of a song.
All the passers-by, he noticed, gave the whipping-post a wide berth, but presently, a stumble and muffled curse from just behind him announced an exception. Unable to turn, he could only wait. Then came a whispered word.
“Jim!"
“Frosty? What th'—?"
“That'll keep. Wait till I cut these blame' hobbles, an' we'll flit. I guess this ain't a healthy place for us."
“Yu'll never guess better. How'd yu get in?"
“Down the hole yu showed me. There was a jigger on guard at the bottom, but I rapped him on the head with my gun an' he let me pass."
“He let—say, will he let yu go back?”
There was a subdued chuckle in Frosty's whisper. He won't care—a rap.”
By this time the captive was free. Fortunately the post was near the cliff and in darkness. Sudden stretched his cramped limbs and drew a long breath.
“Beat it," he said. "I'll join yu at the Twin Diamond. I gotta get Nigger."
“Risk yore life for a hoss?"
“Just that; there's been times when but for him I wouldn't have one to risk. Don't worry, I got it all planned." Frosty knew it was useless to argue. "Well, it's yore life," he grumbled, "but a fella can push his luck too hard.”
The gloom swallowed him and Sudden turned in the direction of the saloon. He had almost reached it when the door was flung back and a man wearing two gun-belts staggered out; it was Roden—alone. The fugitive crouched behind a corner of the building and as the half-tipsy ruffian passed, struck upwards, rising with the blow. The granite fist, moving like a released spring, landed full on the point of the jaw and Scar dropped as though hit by a thunderbolt. Sudden dragged the inert form back from the road, and with a sigh of content, buckled on his own belt and guns.Climbing to his bedroom window, he got his saddle, and ran to the corral. The familiar whistle brought the black, and soon the pair were heading for the west gate. As they approached, Sudden quickened pace, and they arrived with a rush. The man in charge was new to him.
“Got a pass?" he queried. " 'Less you have "
“Pass be damned!" Sudden said angrily. "Open up, yu idjut. Scar Roden had a run in with the Chief an' creased him —pretty bad. I'm for the Red Rock doctor.”
The fellow stared. "Scar, huh?" he said. "Must 'a' found some sand. What happened to him?"
“The Chief got him—good, an' he's liable to get yu if...”
But the bars were already being removed, and ten seconds later, Nigger was through and racing down the trail. His rider indulged in a mild whoop and leaned over to pat the satiny neck of the friend he had dared so much to recover.
“Yu come mighty near to changin' owners, of hoss," he said. "Lyin' is like drink, it gets a hold on a fella, but I gotta admit there's a heap o' satisfaction in puttin' over a good one. I gambled on that gate-man bein', like me, tied to his post this afternoon, an' my luck was shorely in.”
He laughed at his little joke, and swinging off the beaten track, plunged into the brush towards the Twin Diamond. By the time he reached the ranch-house, a pale grey light behind the distant peaks told the dawn of another day. Turning his horse into the corral, he carried his saddle to the house, and finding the door unlocked, stepped into the living-room, slumped into a big armchair, and went to sleep. A little later, Frosty arrived and did precisely the same. Chang, the Chinese cook, first astir, surveyed the pair of snoring cowboys with a grih and went about his work of preparing the morning meal. The voice of the rancher awakened them.
“Well, damn me, if some folk ain't got a nerve," he said. "Hello, Mart," Frosty greeted. "We just dropped in.”
“Off, yu mean," Merry corrected. "I hope yu found all yu wanted."
“Not a spot," the Double K rider told him. "Take the bottle to bed with yu?"
“No, sir, on'y the contents," his host laughed. "C'mon: eat first an' talk after is my motto. Mornin', Jeff.”
young Keith entered, greeted the guests, and sat down to the excellent breakfast provided. Not until they had done full justice to it, and lighted up, did Merry open the conversation with the customary question.
“Well, boys, what's the news?"
“S'pose yu ain't heard o' the 01' Man accidentally shootin' hisself?" Frosty began.
Sudden saw Keith's face become paler, but no word came from his lips. It was the rancher who spoke.
Ken hurt?" he cried. "How bad?"
“The Red Rock pill-roller reckons he's got a fightin' chance."
“Then he'll make it—Ken's a fighter, shore enough," Merry said. "But how did it happen?”
Frosty told the story as he knew it, but the fat man shook his head.
“It don't sound right to me."
“It ain't right," Sudden put in quietly. "Satan rode into Dugout, with six others, yestiddy mornin'. He met the Colonel in Black Sam's an' shot him; claims he went for a weapon.”
Keith sprang up, his lips working, and made for the door. But the puncher was there first and had his back to it. "Where yu goin'?" he asked.
“Hell City, to blow that skunk to bits," was the passionate reply.
“Fine, yu'll look like a million bucks to him," Sudden said sarcastically. "Best let it ride, for now." Sullenly the young man returned to his seat. Frosty spoke.
“Jansen an' them who fetched the 01' Man home all had the same tale. Why would they lie?"
“Mebbe he told them to," Sudden suggested. "He's a proud man an' wouldn't want it knowed that—"
“His own son had done such a dastard deed," the boy burst in. "Yes, that's the sort of thing he would do. But he believed it himself," he finished bitterly.
“Yu can't blame him, Jeff," Merry pointed out. "That damned imposter has been too clever for all of us." His eye caught something. "How long yu been an Imp, Frosty?”
The cowboy grinned as he slipped the badge into a pocket. "Forgot that, but she was useful las' night," he said. "Soon as I got into Hell City I went straight to the saloon—"
“Yu would," his friend interrupted.
“Knowed it was the likeliest place to find yu," Frosty retaliated. "yu wasn't there, but I heard how the Chief—as they call him—had soured on yu, an'
“The rest don't signify," Sudden said hurriedly. "I guess it does," the rancher decided.
So Frosty had to tell of the battle with Roden and the subsequent ordeal, both of which had been graphically described to him by eye-witnesses. He concluded with, "An' here he is, hoss an' guns complete. How in hell d'yu manage it, Jim?"
“If I'd on'y practised steady as a kid, I'd be a good liar," Sudden smiled, and related the ruse by which he had escaped. "I was lucky."
“Lucky?" Frosty echoed whimsically. "Yu said it. I'll bet if yu pitched head first into the Glue-pot yu'd come up with a bag o' gold in each paw.”
Merry laughed. "Yu can put a `p' in front o' that luck, Frosty," he said. "What was it this brigand wanted to know, Jim?"
“The whereabouts o' Keith here. As I told yu, he's the winnin' card. Holdin' him, Satan takes the pot; lackin' him, he's liable to lose out.”
Jeff Keith had been listening with bent head. Now he looked up. "You went through that rather than betray me?"
“Shucks, I was allus a bad loser," the puncher replied. "Besides, tellin' him wouldn't 'a' helped me."
“No wonder you stopped me just now," the young man said. "It seems I'm just the headstrong blunderer I've always been. I owe you a lot, Mister Green."
“My friends use my first name," Sudden told him, holding out a hand.
Keith grasped it eagerly. "Thank you—Jim," he replied, and then, "What are we going to do?"
“Smash up Hell City. Will yore fellas take a hand, Merry?"
“Will they?" the rancher cried. "All I'm worth wouldn't keep 'em out of it, an' that goes for yore crowd, eh, Frosty?" The Double K man hesitated a moment and Sudden answered for him. "Shore, an' I'm bettin' we can count on help from Dugout, 'specially when it's knowed who downed the Colonel. I'm wonderin' whether the sheriff o' Red Rock would sit in?”
He was watching Keith's face as he spoke, but if the boy felt alarm at the suggestion he did not show it. On the contrary, he was the first to approve.
“Dealtry's a good man to have at your back," he said, adding with a ghost of a smile, "that is, unless he's wanting you.”
“He struck me as square," the puncher went on. "I'll ride over an' have a talk with him. Meantime, we gotta keep mighty silent, an' Jeff, yu must stay holed-up—they won't look for yu here.”
The young man's face fell; he had been hoping to meet Joan again, but he made no demur. The others sensed a change in him; the bitter, rebellious attitude had disappeared, leaving a quiet determination. They put it down to the infamous attempt upon his father's life, never guessing at a still more potent factor.
“We're takin' on a man-sized job an' can't afford to overlook bets," was Sudden's final warning.
CHAPTER XXIII
Satan's fury, when he learned that his victim had escaped sent Silver, who brought the news, cowering to a corner, whence he watched, terrified. Never before had he seen his dreaded master so completely lose control of himself. Striding to and fro, uttering fearful blasphemies, he poured vitriolic curses upon the unknown person who had robbed him of revenge, and promised punishment which turned the timorous listener's blood to ice.
Presently, at the end of another wild tirade, he snatched out his revolvers and Silver thought his last moment had come. But the madman fired at the picture of the gunman, bullet after bullet, until the face was no more than tattered fragments of canvas. Only when the weapons were empty did he fling them to the floor and sink, panting with passion, into a seat. Silence ensued, and this, to the solitary spectator of the wierd scene, seemed even more dreadful. Fascinated, he could not look away from the blood-red mask, out of which the rage-glazed eyes stared into space. Suddenly bandit stood up; the paroxysm had passed.
“What are you doing there, you coward?" he growled. "Go, make enquiries, find out something, blast you. And send me a boy—one who can ride.”
When the fellow had scuttled out, he sat down and wrote a note, slowly, carefully. The result appeared to satisfy him, for after studying it critically, he nodded.
“That will bring her, and she will bring him," he reflected aloud. "With the old man dead, I shall hold all the cards.”
At the Double K ranch-house, Joan had just relinquished her duties in the sick-room, leaving the patient in the capable hands of Mandy, who had hurried to the bedside of her old master as soon as she heard the news.
“Go foh a ride, honey," the negress said. "Yo is all tuckered out. We-all suah hab yo on our han's mighty soon, an' 01' Massa tak' de hide off'n mah back when he git well." So the girl got her horse and had just mounted when the foreman approached. He was not in a happy frame of mind these days; the "accident" to his employer had jarred him. Recalling Satan's enquiries as to the Colonel's visits to Dugout, he could not credit the current story. On the other hand, he found it just as difficult to believe that a son, however unjustly treated, could deliberately endeavour to slay his father, and coarse-natured as he was, the possibility sickened him. If Jeff had indeed sunk to that level ... The unfinished thought prompted him to give the girl a warning.
“Shouldn't go far, Miss Joan. Queer things is happenin' an' the country is a heap unsettled."
“Thank you, Steve," she smiled. "I'll be careful.”
His gaze followed her as she shot away, trim figure swaying easily with the movement of the beast beneath her, a picture to take and hold the eye of any horseman.
“Hell, that boy must 'a' bin loco," was his comment.
It was only after she had ridden a mile or more that Joan awoke to the fact that she was travelling in the direction of the Glue-pot.
“Sugar, you must be a mind-reader," she told her mount laughingly. "It's a good thing you haven't the gift of speech, too, or you might betray secrets.”
She pulled up as she saw a rider approaching, a mere lad of eleven or twelve, astride the back of an unkempt, shaggy pony. He stopped when he reached her and dragged off his wreck of a hat. He was not prepossessing, his thin features having a crafty expression out of keeping with his age. "I reckon yo're Miss Joan Keith," he said.
“Your reckoning is correct," she smiled. "And where do you come from?"
“Way over," he replied, jerking a thumb to the northward, and she knew that was all she would learn. "I got a letter for you —a stranger asked me to fetch it; said for me to give it to yoreself.”
He dived into the pocket of his ragged overalls. Joan took the envelope and one glance at the superscription quickened the beating of her heart. But she would not open it yet.
“What was he like, this stranger?"
“Dressed like a cow-wrastler, with blue eyes an' a mark on his chin," the boy replied. "He gimme four bits." The girl's face was flushed, her eyes sparkling. She had been sure before—the writing had told her, but she could not resist the desire to prolong her pleasure. "So if I give you another four you will have a whole dollar," she said.
“Betcha life," he agreed, and putting the coins carefully away, banged his heels against the ribs of his steed and scampered off. Only then did she open the envelope.
DEAR JOAN, I shall be at the mouth of Coyote Canyon about three today. I must see you. Don't fail me.
YOUR JEFF.
Not very romantic, perhaps, but what young girl ever criticized her first love-letter? She read it three times, tucked it into the pocket of her shirt-waist, and turned towards the rendezvous.
“Joan Keith, you are an idiot," she assured herself withmock severity. "Sugar's hoof-beats are not saying `Your Jeff.' “
She reached the spot in good time, but it appeared to be deserted. After waiting a little while, it occurred to her that she might be seen by one of the Double K riders, and not wishing this, she rode a short way up the ravine, where the undergrowth would screen her from view. No sooner had she taken up this new position than she became aware of movement and five horsemen burst from the bushes and encircled her. A look sufficed to show that she was in the hands of Satan's infamous "Imps." That she had been trapped was not at first clear to her.
“What does this mean?" she asked indignantly.
The leader, whom she now recognized as the brute who had insulted her at Black Sam's, rode forward, a smirk on his disfigured countenance.
“Jeff, the Chief, that is, couldn't come hisself so he sent us to take you to him," he explained.
The statement almost stunned her. So the treasured letter was no more than a bait to lure her into the clutches of the Boss of Hell City. Furtively she crushed and let it fall; she could not keep such a vile thing. Then the horror of her position swept over her, and, spurring her pony, she made a desperate bid to break through, hoping they would not dare to pursue into the open. But ere she had gone a few feet, two of them grabbed the reins and jerked her horse back on its haunches.
“None o' that," Scar said savagely. "Come quiet an' you'll be treated decent; if you don't, I'll hawg-tie you." The girl gave in; black despair descended upon her. Roden issued an order, they closed round her, and set off along the canyon. The roughness of the trail made speed out of the question, but presently they climbed out of the dismal gorge into the hills. There was a certain fierce grandeun in the peaks and precipices, tree-clad slopes, rocky defiles, and cascading torrents, but Joan—lover of Nature as she was—had no eye for them; fear for the future was all-absorbing.
Her escort took no notice of her, but chatted in low tones among themselves. Once she caught a fragment of the conversation.
“The Chief'll have a couple of 'em now," one said. "Yeah, safety in numbers," chuckled another.
“That rule don't work with women. No, sir," Scar contributed. At which they all laughed.
They entered Hell City by the western gate, and despite her danger, the girl could not but be interested in the place which the country-side held in awe. In the afternoon sunlight, it appeared innocent enough. At first, seeing so few buildings, she wondered where the inhabitants lived, and then she noticed the tunnelled openings in the rock walls, and understood. The people who stopped and stared as she passed seemed no different from those of any frontier settlement. But a shock awaited her at the whipping-post. Hanging slackly from it by his bound wrists was an oldish man, his bared back raw and bloody, and round him, a dozen or more loungers. Scar asked a question.
“01' Benjy," he told the others. "So that was why he warn't on the gate. Well, here we are.”
He got down and turned to help the girl, but she had already dismounted, and obeying his gesture, proceeded along the passage. Silver opened the door, and his brutelike appearance made her recoil. Scar chuckled.
“Go ahead," he said. "He won't bite yer.”
She stepped into the room and again paused, this time in astonishment at the bizarre yet costly furnishings. But from these her gaze went almost at once to the owner, devouring her triumphantly through the slits in his mask. He made a too elaborate bow and pushed forward a chair.
“Good of you to come, Joan," he greeted, and the irony of the remark stung her.
“I had no choice," she replied hotly. "That—beastthreatened to hog-tie me."
“She tried to break away," the "beast" said sullenly.
“My fault," Satan explained. "I was so eager to see you that I promised to hang the poor fellow if he failed." He smiled at Roden. "It appears we had a difference last night, and that you wounded me and I killed you.”
Scar looked at him dubiously. "I don't get you," he said. "I'm feelin' middlin' healthy for a dead man. Who put it around?"
“Sudden, and on the plea that he was going to Red Rock for a doctor, the fool at the gate let him pass, against my express orders."
“So—that was it?"
“Yes. I don't—think—he'll do it—again," Satan said slowly. He tossed over some bills. "Your men will be thirsty.”
Having thus dismissed the man, he turned to the girl. "Sorry I couldn't meet you myself, Joan, but a little matter prevented me."
“The thrashing of that unhappy wretch outside?" she asked.
“Oh, that," he replied carelessly. "Just a question of discipline. They are a rough lot, these people of mine, and need an object lesson from time to time."
“You mentioned `Sudden.' Was that the cowboy who came to the Double K?"
“Yes, and you are well quit of him; an arrant rascal." Perilous as her position was, she could not keep back the retort: "He should have suited you.”
She saw his mouth harden, and then he laughed. "You still have your tongue. Well, a woman without brains, however pretty, is no more than a doll.”
She was silent, considering him. Though she knew the truth, the impersonation was so complete that, but for having recently seen the real Simon Pure, she might still have doubted; a warm-blooded youth, harshly treated—as he believed—by the world, might well have become such a man as this. He fell to pacing up and down, hands behind his back, an old habit of Jeff's, she remembered, when he wished to talk.
“Fine to see you here, Joan; I have much to say."
“Then please say it and let me go home," she replied. "I have been absent too long already."
“You are not going. Where I am will be `home' for you from now on," he told her. "You are to be my wife, or my woman, which you will, but—one or the other.”
She sprang to her feet. "Are you mad?" she cried.
“Yes, about you," he smiled. "Once, I let you go; this time, I hold you until eternity.”
The note of finality in his voice left no room for doubt; the fate she had feared from the moment of her capture had become a hideous reality. Sick with horror, she sank back in her seat and strove to rally her scattered senses. She must fight this monster, and above all, never let him suspect that she knew his secret. She too had a part to play.
“I never thought you would use me so, Jeff," she said quietly. "If you really care for me, you will let me return to the ranch; the Colonel will be anxious.”
His astonishment was real. "The Colonel? Why, he's dead."
“No," she corrected. "There was an accident, and he was badly hurt, but he still lives, and needs all the care and attention I can give him. I beg you to let me go."
“No, I need you, too."
“The shock of my disappearance may prove fatal to—your father," she pleaded.
“A convincing reason for keeping you," he replied brutally.
He called Silver and gave him an order which Joan could not hear. In a while, the dwarf ushered in Miss Dalroy. The bandit spoke brusquely.
“Belle, this is Miss Keith; she will share your room for a time. I want you to take good care of her.”
The adventuress had expected to find a contemptuous adversary, but she found only a distraught and despairing girl. The sight aroused no compassion in her selfish soul; willing or unwilling, Joan Keith was a formidable rival.
“I understand, Jeff; she will be safe with me," she said. "Come, Miss Keith.”
Joan did not move, and Satan's lips tightened. Stepping to her side, he said savagely, "Go, before I repent of my weakness. Remember, I am master here.”
With a heart heavy as lead, she obeyed, conscious that she was completely in his power. It was but a few steps, for Belle's abode was next the Chief's, a similar cave, though not so large or luxuriously fitted. But it was comfortable.
“Well, here we are," Belle said, "and let me tell you, Hell City has worse prisons." She looked curiously at her guest, sitting limply, staring with arid eyes at the carpeted floor. "You were fond of Jeff one time, weren't you? I expect he's altered.”
The girl was on her guard. "Yes, into a beast," she replied.
“All men have a lot of beast in them," Belle shrugged. "Civilization smothers and keeps it under, but out here in the wilds it comes to the surface.”
Joan changed the subject. "Is there no way out of this awful place?"
“Three," was the cynical reply. "Jump through the hole behind that curtain and you'll land on the rocks eighty feet below. The other two are the gates of the town: the cowboy, Sudden, went that way last night, and the man who let him pass was beaten to death this afternoon. You can reckon your chances."
“What had Sudden done?"
“I don't know, but if he hadn't escaped—well, judge for yourself," Belle said, and gave an account of the gunman's arrest and subsequent torture. The listener's ashen face rather amused her; she had purposely painted the bandit leader as black as possible.
“Diabolical !"
“Oh, Jeff's all that; sometimes I think he really is—possessed. I was glad Sudden got away—he saved my life, and yet, I fear him."
“I would say he is not the type to harm a woman."
“It is not for myself," the other admitted, and laughed. "One gets these foolish fancies; probably he is fifty miles away by now.”
Joan was speculating about her companion. What dire listress had driven her, young, beautiful, to this sink of iniquity? At the risk of a rebuff, she asked the question.
“I had to choose between hanging and—this.”
Joan looked aghast. "Hanging?" she repeated. "But what—?"
“Oh, I just killed a cur," Belle said brazenly. "He deserved to die, but your man-made laws don't take that into account." With a bitter grimace, she pointed to the bed. "Sleep sound. Hell City has had a taste of its master's medicine to-day and will be quiet.”
The assurance was of no avail, and it was long ere rest came to the overwrought girl. Fears for her father, and forebodings as to the future kept her staring for hours into the blackness. There seemed to be no hope. Even if her whereabouts became known, what could a handful of cowboys do against Satan's well-armed horde of desperadoes, entrenched in this rock citadel.
Consternation reigned at the Double K that evening, and each rider as he came in from his day's work was met by a worried foreman and received the same order.
“Change yore hoss an' git busy. Miss Joan rode out around two an' ain't showed up. We gotta find her.”
From all he got "Hell!" and prompt obedience. He despatched the last of them and went into his shack for his rifle. As he came out, a warning voice said: "Keep yore han's mighty still, Steve.”
He looked round. Sudden, sitting on his black, gun drawn, was just behind him.
“I've come to talk, not fight," the visitor went on. "What about it?”
The foreman propped his rifle against the side of the hut. "Come inside," he invited.
Sudden slid down, without losing the drop, and followed him into the shack. "Why are yu sendin' the boys out?" he asked.
Lagley told him. "She's a good rider, but a hoss can find a hole an' break a leg. What's yore guess?"
“That she's in Hell City.”
The foreman looked relieved. "If that's so, she'll be all right; Jeff would never let her come to harm."
“That's comfortin'," the puncher said sarcastically, and then, "Steve, I'm goin' to put some straight questions an' I want the same sort o' answers. Just why are yu doublecrossin' yore boss?”
The veins on Lagley's forehead swelled up, he shut his jaw, and for a moment it seemed there might be trouble. Then he said angrily, "It's none o' yore damned business.”
goin' to be ," Sudden replied sternly, and reading the desperate thought, "Don't gamble, Steve; yu'll be outa luck.”
Lagley hesitated; this man was his master with a gun, and there was no help within miles. He made his decision.
“Because o' the way he served young Jeff," he burst out. "I'm admittin' the boy was skittish—what colt that's worth anythin' ain't?—but he never give him a chance. Whipped him allatime with that sharp tongue o' his, like he does all of us, an' fair drove him to rebel. I wanta see him an' Miss Joan runnin' this ranch, that's what. So now yu know.”
Sudden nodded. "An' if another fella was tryin' to grab it vu wouldn't help?" he queried.
“Anybody but a Keith at the Double K?" Lagley snorted. 'I'd help him into the next world with a slug in his gizzard."
“Good. yu an' me haven't been too friendly—I expect we got off on the wrong foot—but I'm beginnin' to like yu a lot better. Now, get ready for a jar: that masked fella in Hell City is not Jefferson Keith.”
The foreman gazed at him, eyes and mouth wide open, and exploded in a guffaw. "Yu ain't expectin' I'll swaller that, are yu? Me, what's knowed the boy sence he was knee-high, an' made him the good cattleman he is. I wouldn't reckernize him, huh? A fine joke that."
“Is it?" the puncher asked. "Well, laugh this one off, too: the Colonel's hurt was no accident, he was deliberately shot by the man yu claim is Jeff Keith."
“But Jansen said—"
“What he was told to say; the 0I' Man would not have it knowed.”
The derision died out of the foreman's face. "Jeff would never do that," he muttered perplexedly.
“He was miles distant from Dugout when it happened.”
“Where is Jeff now?"
“I ain't sayin'—yet," was the reply. "But he ain't in Hell City, nor coverin' up his face. I came over because I guessed yu were on the wrong trail. How many Double K men will line up to smoke out that thieves' nest?"
“If what yu say is true, all of us. That is—"
“Except Turvey.”
Lagley looked uncomfortable. "It's a fact he's different," he confessed. "Kind o' new, bin here less'n twelve months."
“Wasn't it Turvey who suggested yu should get in with Satan?" Sudden asked, and when the other assented, "I found out that he was in Hell City afore he came to yu.”
Lagley swore forcibly. "He gits his time in the mornin'."
“No, that will tell them too much; we gotta lie low till we're ready to strike. Don't whisper a word to anyone 'cept Frosty —he's wise."
“I'll be dumb as the dead," the foreman promised, and awkwardly, "Green, I've treated yu mean, that bill 'bout yu, an' the frame-up, but honest, I thought I was helpin' Jeff. That devil had his tricks o' speakin', movin', an' remembered happenin's when he was a li'l lad that on'y Jeff could 'a' knowed. Anyways, I'm sayin' to yu that I'm sorry, an'—"
“Forget it, Steve, he fooled us all, even Miss Joan," the puncher said. "Now I'll fade, in case any o' the boys drift in; it won't do for them to see yu shakin' han's with me.”
The foreman did not comprehend at once, but then he saw the proffered fist and took it eagerly. "Yo're a good fella, Green," he said. "Wish I'd found it out earlier.”
He waited until the visitor had disappeared in the dusk and then sat down to digest the astounding news he had received. Looking back, he could see nothing which might have raised real doubt. The perpetual mask was typical of one prone to extremes, and the harsh, insulting manner merely an accentuation of the father's caustic habit. One thing he had never been able to explain; why the regard he felt for the boy he taught to ride and throw a rope should be, akin to fear in the presence of the man.
“Steve Lagley, if any hurt happens to that gal yu'll deserve to be roasted at a slow fire," was his final decision.
Darkness came and brought riders but no news. The last to arrive was Frosty, and they heard the drum of the pounding hooves long before he could be seen.
“Sounds like he's got her," the foreman said hopefully. "There's on'y one hoss an' it wouldn't be carryin' double at that pace," Lazy objected.
He was right, for when the white-headed cowboy shot out of the gloom and reined in, sending the gravel flying, it was seen that he was alone. Leaping from the saddle, he thrust a paper at Lagley.
“Found it in Coyote Canyon," he said. "As I read the sign, she was waitin' there an' five riders grabbed an' took her north.”
They perused it in turn. Only Turvey had anything to say.
“Skittles ! we've had our trouble for nothin'. Her lover is gittin' impatient, an' when a woman has to choose between an old man an' a young 'un, it's an easy guess. I'll bet she went willin'."
“Yo're a dirty-minded liar," Frosty told him. "It was plain enough she tried to git away."
“Yu an' yore sign—" Turvey began, but the foreman told him sharply to shut up. "We can't do nothin' more tonight," he added. "Git yore grub an' hit the hay. Frosty, I wanta speak with yu.”
The two men entered the foreman's hut. Lagley came to the point at once. "I've had a pow-wow with Green, an' he shore told me plenty. It seems I've bin a fool—an' worse. Ye see, believin' like the rest, that young Jeff was behind that red mask, I was sort o' backin' his game, but mebbe yu knew this?""No, I had my own ideas, but Jim never let on."
“An' he knew," Lagley said. "He's one white man. If yu know where to find him, take this paper along in the mornin'. What else can we do?"
“Carry on as usual till Jim gives the word—it won't be long a-comin'—after this." He tapped the paper, and turned to go.
“He shook han's with me when he went," Steve said.
Frosty understood. In silence their hands met in a grip which wiped out past misunderstandings. Neither of them saw a furtive shadow, which had been crouching at the rear of the shack, slink swiftly in the direction of the bunkhouse.
Almost before the sun had made its appearance, Frosty was pounding on the Twin Diamond ranch-house door. The owner opened it himself.
“Yu again?" he greeted. "Why'n hell don't yu come an' live here? Yu wouldn't have to knock the house down to get in.""I'm allus forgettin' yore scrap-heap's feeble constitution," Frosty grinned. "I got news."
“If yu hadn't I'd do somethin' to yu," was the dry reply. "I shore thought them rapscallions from Hell City was makin' a massed attack. Awright, fellas, it's on'y that quiet, well-behaved young gent frdm the Double K." This as Sudden and Jeff hurried in.
“What's the, trouble?" the puncher asked.
“Yu were right, Jim, he's got her," the cowboy replied. One by one, they read the missive, Keith last, with shaking fingers and face the colour of chalk.
“The swine can even imitate my writing," he cried. "By Christmas, if he makes her shed only one tear I'll have his heart's blood. What can we do, Jim?”
Sudden shook his head. "We can't move—yet; we're not strong enough.”
But to leave her in the power of that—devil ! if no one else will go—"
“Listen," Sudden said sternly. "Here's how I figure it. The shootin' at Dugout was done to pull yu in. The Colonel's care for his name trumped that trick, so now he's baitin' the trap with the girl. An' yu want to rush into it. She'll be safe. Remember, he believes that, to her, he is still Jeff Keith, an' I'll bet she won't let him know different."
“That's the straight of it, boy," the rancher agreed. "Yo're the king-pin; if he gets yu again, we're done.”
Keith threw up his hands, a gesture of despair. "It's plain hell, but you're right. I'll stay put," he promised. "Sorry I flew off the handle, Jim."
“I ain't blamin' yu—felt like it myself. Tough on yu to be tied here, but it's gotta be. Mart, can yu keep yore outfit within easy reach o' the ranch-house to-day?"
“Yu bet I will."
“Good. We have to move fast now. I'm ridin' to Red Rock this mornin' to see Dealtry, an' I'll come back by Dugout. If they'll both chip in, we'll tackle Hell City—tomorrow."
“That's the talk, Jim," Merry approved.
“What yu want I should do?" Frosty enquired.
The puncher's grim face relaxed. "Keep that big mouth o' yourn shut—all of it," he replied, and was gone before the insulted one could think of a fitting retort.
CHAPTER XXIV
The sheriff of Red Rock smiled as he recognized the young man he had catalogued in his memory as "Mart Merry's visitor."
“Takin' the back trail a'ready?" he asked. "Ain't tired of us, I hope."
“Neither one nor the other," Sudden replied. "Yu remember the day I met yu?"
“Shore thing—I saved the bank forty thousand bucks.”
“Yeah, havin' had word o' the hold-up from a boy name o' Holt. Did he tell yu how he knowed?"
“He was some reticent 'bout that—said a fella called `Sudden' sent him. I took a chance, though I'd never heard o' the jigger."
“Yo're meetin' him now," the puncher announced "Yu see, I was one o' the road-agents, but for reasons yu'll understand later, I didn't want the trick turned." He grinned at the amazed officer. "Why, if yu'd accepted my invite an' searched me, yu'd 'a' found another o' them red badges.”
Dealtry leaned back ink his chair. "Damn me if I know whether I oughta thank or throw yu in the calaboose."
“Play safe an' make it the first," Sudden advised. "I'm here on serious business."
“Spill it," was the reply. "You can't surprise me no more.”
“Don't bet too high on that," Sudden warned. "Yu re collect we talked o' young Keith an' yu told me he was reputed to be bossin' an outlaw band—the same what tried to rob yore coach. Well, that ain't so; their leader is a man yu used to know as Lafe Lander."
“Jeff's friend?"
“Yeah," Sudden said drily, "but lemme show yu how much of a friend he is." In a few sentences, he told of the impudent impersonation, the shooting of the Colonel, and abduction of his daughter. The sheriff's eyebrows nearly joined his hair as he listened to the extraordinary story. The teller of it concluded with, "Lander is a good shot an' carries a couple o' thirty-eights. Does that mean anything to yu?"
“Hell's blight," the sheriff swore. "It was a thirty-eight let the life out'n my boy. That clears Keith."
“Shorely, an' yu can add that Lander admitted to me he shot yore son.”
Dealtry rose, his face rigid. "Mister," he said, "I don't care if yo're forty outlaws riled into one, I'm deep in yore debt for this, an' if there's any way I can square it you on'y gotta say. But first, I'm goin' to scare up a few o' the boys, gather in an' hang this felon.”
Sudden smiled; he liked the courage of this forthright, burly fellow. But this would not do. "Wait a minute, sheriff; if it was that easy, I'd 'a' fetched him in for yu," he said, and went on to explain that Hell City was a natural fortress, garrisoned by at least two-score desperate men who would fight to the last because life or liberty was already forfeit to the law.
“It'll mean a battle," Dealtry commented, his sombre eyes alight. "Good. I'll be at the Twin Diamond to-morrow, early, an' I won't be alone.”
Leaving Red Rock, Sudden took an easterly trail to Dugout. His journey had, so far, been successful; not only had he secured the needed assistance, but removed the shadow overhanging Jeff Keith. The end of the long and perilous path he had been pursuing was almost in sight, and in a little morethan twenty-four hours—if all went well, the most colossal criminal he had ever encountered would reap the reward of his misdeeds. At this point his cogitations concluded with a self-deprecatory laugh.
“Countin' chickens, Nig," he said. "I'm shore old enough to know better'n that.”
His entry into Dugout caused a flutter; heads were poked out of doorways as the news travelled from house to house. He turned into the store, which was empty, except for the proprietor.
“Jansen, yu are a liar," he remarked, and smiled.
The store-keeper was glad to see that smile; the words were fighting talk, and though he was no coward, he knew it was death for him to draw on this man. He said nothing. "Yu pretend that Colonel Keith injured himself though yu saw another shoot him," the puncher continued. "There is no longer any need for that lie. Bite on this : Jeff Keith ain't the man yu know as Satan.”
Incredulous as Jansen undoubtedly was, he did not dare dispute the assertion.
“How—how d'you know?" he stammered.
“I went to Hell City to find out," Sudden replied. "Heard 'bout Miss Keith?"
“Ain't nothin' happened to her, has there?"
“Some o' Satan's Imps carried her off last night.”
The store-keeper stamped with rage. "Curse it! You gave them whelps a lesson once. Don't you reckon they need another?"
“They're gettin' it—to-morrow, an it's goin' to be the last one. I'm here to ask if Dugout will stand in?"
“you bet she will," Jansen replied. "What you want me to do?"
“Report with yore men to Steve Lagley in the mornin', and tell 'em not to chatter; we aim to make it a surprise party."
“Here's one who'll go, mister," a hoarse voice broke in. "I got Pop's rifle an' can use her, too.”
A gawky youth emerged from the shadowy back of the store. There was an eager fire in his dark eyes.
“Awright, Bud, talk to me later," Jansen said, and in a whisper to the puncher, "Satan had his father hanged. Is Merry in this?"
“Yeah, an' the Red Rock sheriff is fetchin' a posse; we're goin' to do this thing right. So long,”
Black Sam welcomed the gunman with the old broad grin, disclosing a white line of teeth which seemed to extend halfway round his head. He was not one to blow hot and cold; the cowboy had done him a service; he remembered that and forgot the rest.
“Sho' am please' to see yo, sah," he greeted.
“Howdy, Sam," Sudden smiled. "On'y time to have just one o' the best liquor in pese parts."
“Bettah dan Hell City, sah?"
“Yeah, yu black rascal. See here, Jansen has some good an' bad news for yu; don't open yore face 'bout either.”
Leaving the darkie scratching his wool, he set out for the Twin Diamond, satisfied with his day's work.
* While the puncher was proceeding on his way to Red Rock, Hell City had a visitor who greeted Silver familiarly and stepped into the Chief's presence, indifferent to the black look he received.
“What brings you, Turvey?”
,"Thought yu'd like to hear that the OP Man is liable to pull through—must 'a' bin a poor shot, Dessay yore hand shook; it ain't every day a fella has to down his own dad." He sniggered at the last word, and his rat-like eyes roamed round the room. "Yo're well-fixed here—seems a pity to leave it.""I've no intention of doing so," Satan snapped.
“Mebbe, but sometimes other folk do the plannin'.”
“What do you mean?"
“Takin' the girl has tipped the balance: the Twin Diamond an' Double K is gittin' ready to move."
“The Double K? Has Lagley lost his senses?"
“Steve has had a change of heart," Turvey sneered. "Yu see, he wants the range to stay in the Keith family.”
The expressionless eyes suddenly flamed as Satan realized that this creature knew his secret; little did Turvey suspect how near he was to death at that moment. With an effort the masked man fought down the desire to close those jeering lips for ever. But the damage was done, and this fellow might still be useful. So, when he spoke, his voice did not betray him.
“How did you learn this?"
“Overheard Steve an' Frosty talkin' las' night; that gunfighter, Sudden, 'pears to be runnin' things.”
The Chief bit on an oath. Though he would not admit it, he was beginning to fear this strange cowboy who, by accident or design, was wrecking his plans. But for his craving for cruelty ... He would not think of that.
“So two dozen cow-hands imagine they can take Hell City?"
“Dugout may help—we ain't too popular there.”
“Those—tradesmen?" Satan said scornfully.
“A tradesman can pull a trigger, an' his bullet's just as hard," Turvey pointed out.
“But not so likely to hit the mark," the Chief retorted. "And when is the attempt to be made?"
“Couldn't find that out; soon, I'd say; they want the girl back."
“They won't get her," the bandit assured him. "Your news has been of use. Take this." With a grin of greed, the informer deftly caught the bag of money. "Silence, they say, is golden, Turvey; you will find it so. When this little trouble is over ..." It was well for his peace of mind that the cowboy could not read that smile. "Get back to the Double K anc glean what you can.”
Turvey shook his head. "I've quit," he explained. "Steve had an ugly look forme this mornin' an' I'd sooner take a hint than a chance."
“A pity," Satan said. "Still, it is one man more for us. Now leave me, I have much to do; when guests are expected, one must make arrangements."
“Shore, we gotta give 'em a warm welcome," Turvey laughed, and departed.
Satan laughed, too, but directly he was alone, became thoughtful. "So the cat is out," he mused, "and the most perfect getaway ever devised comes to grief. Keith has talked, or the gunman has guessed—correctly, but in this place no one knows save that rat and gold will keep him quiet until I substitute—lead. I still hold a trump card, Joan, but it is not safe for her to remain here—those damned cowboys may prove too strong for us. The wise general prepares for the possibility of defeat.”
He summoned Silver and sent him for Miss Dalroy. When she arrived he pointed to a seat.
“Hell City is shortly to be attacked by a considerable force," he began bluntly. "What do you suppose will happen to you if it is taken?"
“One of the victors might succumb to my charms and make me his blushing bride," she returned lightly, conceiving that he was trying to frighten her for some purpose.
He frowned at her flippancy. "You would be handed over to the nearest sheriff and go back to face your trial.”
The harsh statement sobered her. "What do you want?"
“I am arranging for you and Miss Keith to be taken else where. You will start this afternoon, with Silver as escort."
“Two woman, alone with that—animal?" she cried.
“He is the only man I trust, or can spare," Satan said coldly. "You will be quite safe."
“Why can't you come?”
He drew himself up. "Desert my people?" he asked, and then, remembering that this woman was not one to be impressed by heroics, added, "I shall be needed here, and will join you later."
“I won't go," she said stubbornly.
“Get ready. You need not tell the Keith girl why the journey is necessary," he replied, and with a change of tone, "Belle, you know I would not send you away but for your own sake, don't you?”
Instantly she melted. "Oh, Jeff, I'm a fool about you," she murmured. "There are times when I could kill you, and others—"
“When you would die for me," he smiled. "But I'm only asking you to live for me, my dear.”
The smile remained when she had gone. "Hard words for a man, and soft for a woman, spoken at the right time, will move mountains," he soliloquized. "God! if that cursed cowpuncher had never been born.”
He thrust aside the ambitious hopes his abnormal vanity had bred—the present needed all his attention. To Silver he gave detailed instructions, and the dwarf's beady eyes shone when he heard the reward he was to receive if he carried them out successfully.
“I savvy, Chief," he grunted.
“If you fail, in any way, I'll kill you—slowly," Satan said. "You can't hide from me." He tapped his forehead. "I see with my brain.”
Having thus reminded the fellow of his supernatural powers, he went about the business of dealing with the threatened attack. The boom of the bell brought the dwellers running, all save the guardians of the gates. Excited questions flew back and fore. Who was the victim? What form would the punishment take? One said the gunman, Sudden, had been recaptured. The spectacular figure of their leader stilled the hubbub. In a melodramatic fashion he flung his right hand upwards.
“My friends," he cried, "it has been revealed to me that the Double K and Twin Diamond ranches are combining to drive us from our retreat. What are we to do?”
The answer came in one roar, "Fight!"
“I am glad you agree with me. These cattlemen think the earth was created solely for them, and must be taught otherwise. They can get to us only through the gates, unless"—he glanced up at the cliff walls—"they drop from Heaven, and a cowboy is as little likely to come from as go there."
“That's one for you, Turvey," a wit shouted, and raised a laugh.
“So we must have a strong force at each entrance, men who can use their rifles, with others in readiness to take the places of those who may—be unlucky," Satan went on. "We have plenty of weapons and ammunition. Roden will command at the west gate and Turvey at the east. There will be twenty gold pieces for every man if we win, and remember, you will be fighting for your very existence, so—no mercy.”
Though the cheering as he turned his back on them gratified his mummer's appetite for applause, it brought a sneer to his lips. How easy it was for a clever man to mould the common clay to his own desires ! A handful of gold, a few well-chosen words, and these men were ready to lay down their lives for him. Fools ... fools ...
Meanwhile, the objects of his contempt were discussing the news. Hard-bitten, reckless, the prospect of a battle daunted them not at all. With coarse jests and a great deal ofboasting, they crowded round the two lieutenants, busy distributing cartridges and rifles. Some disdained the latter, for as one rugged-faced old freebooter expressed it: "A gun you know is like a good wife—not so purty, mebbe, but you c'n trust her."
“Gimme a skinnin' knife; I'll win me some scalps," another bragged.
“Scalps, hell! They'll be skallyhootin' to damnation afore they git within fifty yards o' the gates," he was told. And this seemed to be the general opinion.
To Joan Keith the journey, when she learned that Satan would not accompany them, proved such a relief that she did not ask why they were going; no place could be worse than the horrible haunt she was in. Even the presence of Silver alarmed her much less than it had her more sophisticated companion.
“The poor fellow can't help the way he was born," she said. "I had a dog once whose appearance scared everybody, and he was the most docile of animals.”
Belle shrugged her shapely shoulders and retired behind a screen to dress for the ride. When she reappeared, Joan found herself staring at a young cowboy in high-heeled boots, chaps, woollen shirt with a bright kerchief knotted round the neck, Stetson, and gauntleted gloves.
“What do you think of it?" Belle laughed, turning this and that way to display herself.
Before Joan could reply, a familiar voice forestalled her: "Charming, Belle; you need only the mask to be my double."
“Let me try," she said saucily, holding out her hand.
“We've no time for play," he replied sharply. "The horses are waiting.”
The scene outside was one of bustle and excitement, and the fact that every man was carrying a rifle, coupled with their own hurried departure, gave Joan a glimmering of the truth; her friends were coming to the rescue. Obeying their conductor's order, they went to his apartment. Belle's eyebrows rose when she saw the open trap-door.
“A private exit?" she laughed. "What a clever devil you are, Jeff. Come along, Miss Keith, we shall learn all his secrets.”
They descended until they reached the cave where Keith had spent so many solitary months. Belle looked at the man archly.
“I wonder what love-bird occupied this comfortable cage?" she said. "you are full of surprises, Jeff."
“The best is yet to come," he returned curtly, and went to the opening which served as a window.
Joan absently opened one of the books on the table. The fly-leaf bore the inscription "Jefferson Keith" and she closed it quickly. At that moment, the Chief called them, and even Belle's self-assurance failed her when she saw the frail rope-ladder dangling aginst the face of the cliff.
“My God, Jeff, you're not expecting us to go down that, are you?" she exclaimed.
“No, I'm ordering you to," he replied forcefully. "It's safe enough—if you hold on.”
Heights had no terrors for the range-bred girl. "I will go first," Joan offered.
The masked man divined that she would risk being dashed to fragments rather than remain alone with him; anger, and his natural instinct to inflict pain, brought a refusal.
“No, age before beauty," he said, dealing a double blow. "Go, Belle, and don't look down.”
The taunt served its purpose. Furious, the woman crawled through the opening and commenced the descent.
She was not without courage, but this was an ordeal outside her experience, and the thought of what would happen if she fell, paralysed her. Clinging desperately to the ladder, she moved so slowly that the man above cursed impatiently. Weak and dizzy, she every moment expected to slip and feel her body hurtling through the air. When she was half-waythough she did not know that—her flimsy support began to sway under her weight and she paused, frozen with fear.
“Don't stop, damn you, unless you want death.”
The strident voice, cleaving the atmosphere like a bullet, lashed her to action. Blind to everything save the ropes she must grip and the rungs she must find for her feet, she went on, and at last the watchers above saw her vanish over the bulge at the bottom of the cliff.
“That yell saved her life—in another moment the fool would have fallen," Satan said. "I expect better from you. I hate to let you go, Joan, but it is only for a day or so.”
His eyes were alive now, alive with a passion which chilled and frightened. But she must play her part.
“I don't understand," she said wearily. "I know you would not hurt me—Jeff."
“I shall explain everything," he replied eagerly, his hot gaze devouring her. "Joan, I could take your kisses, but .. . Go, girl, before the nearness of you weakens my will.”
She needed no second bidding; the peril she was about to face could not compare with that she left behind. So, with a light heart, she followed Belle. Holding tightly, she looked neither up nor down, keeping her eyes glued on the rocky wall before them. One thought only came to her as she dropped lower and lower—Jeff must have escaped in the. same way. Somehow, the probability gave her confidence, and almost before she realized that the task was done, a pair of huge hands lifted her from the ladder, set her on the ground, and she was gazing into the grinning face of Silver.
“Here you is, an' there's the hosses. Let's be goin'," he said.
There were four animals, one of them packed with supplies. In a brief space, they were on their way.
CHAPTER XXV
The first arrivals at the Twin Diamond ranch-house on the following morning were Lagley, Frosty, and Lazy. The face of the foreman wore a worried frown as he drew Sudden aside.
“Dugout has shown up ten strong but I'm fearin' we've overlooked a bet," he said. "Turvey's pulled his freight an' it ain't hard to guess where he's gone."
“But he didn't know."
“May have heard me talkin' to Frosty—he was late for supper, 'cordin' to Lazy, said his hoss was troublesome.”
Before the puncher could reply, another voice chimed in.
“By Christmas, if it isn't Steve Lagley. How are you, old grumbler?”
Lagley spun round, a picture of perturbation, but he managed to grasp the extended hand, staring hard the while. "Mighty glad to see yu agin, Master Jeff," he said.
“What are you looking for—a red mask?" Keith asked slyly.
The foreman's coppery skin took on a purple tinge. "No, I on'y wanta see that once more, through the sights o' my gun."
“Don't you do it," the young man cried. "He's my meat."
“Yo're both wrong—he's mine," Sudden corrected. He looked at Keith. "There's Dealtry; go an' speak with him.”
The boy hesitated a mere second, squared his shoulders, stepped to where the officer was standing, and said quietly: "Morning, sheriff.”
Dealtry, who had just dismounted, turned, scanned him closely, and then said, "Well, Jeff, I've had some hard thoughts 'bout you; wrongly, as it now appears."
“I didn't shoot Dan," Keith said earnestly. "We were friends, and our difference would have been forgotten in the morning. I suppose it was my running away ..."
“Yeah, it looked bad. If you'd stayed—but there, I reckon `if' is the cussedest word in the world. What Green told me yestiddy made it plain. All I want now is to slant a gun on that—."
“Yo're fourth on the list an' ain't got a chance," Sudden grinned. "How much help yu brought?"
“There's on'y a dozen of us but we're good," was the sheriff's modest reply. "Got any plan?”
Mart Merry, the Double K foreman, and his two men joined the group, and the rancher answered the question.
“There's but two ways into the durn place. My idea is to split our force an' attack 'em both at the same time. Yu agree, Jim?"
“Nothin' else for it," the cowboy concurred. "Mart, yu an' Dealtry can take this side, an' the Double K an' Dugout men the other."
“What are yu goin' to do, Jim?" the rancher asked.
“I want a few fellas who can shoot fast an' arc willin' to gamble. Yu see, I know of another way in—hit on it by chance—an' it's possible, with trouble both ends o' the town, it may be overlooked. Once in, mebbe we can grab the leader, an' anyway, we'll have the gates between two fires. What yu think of it, Steve?"
“It's good," Lagley said. "Likewise, it's a Double K job. Here's three of us—"
“Four," Keith put in quietly.
“An' I can soon git the others—they'll all wanta come.”
“Three more will do—them gates are a tough proposi tion," Sudden decided. "Go get 'em, Steve." He followed as the foreman went to his horse. "Yu know where to meet us?”
“Yeah. How d'yu learn 'bout that way in, Jim?"
“Yu showed it me," the puncher smiled.
“Yo're lettin' me down mighty easy; I ain't forgettin' it." Further preparations for the fray did not take long. Sudden had a final word.
“We won't make a move till yu got 'em real interested at both ends. So long, an' good luck.”
Soon after he had gone, Merry and the sheriff set out, their men straggling behind. The cowboys, for the most part, jested and poked fun at one another, indifferent to the fact that they were about to risk their lives, but the Red Rock men rode with grave, determined faces : they were there to administer the law.
Less than an hour's ride brought them within sight of their objective, a gate of heavy timber set between unscaleable heights which, continuing for about a hundred yards, walled in the narrow approach. Dealtry pulled up with an exclamation of dismay.
“Phew! That's a nice nut to crack, Mart," he said. "How in blue blazes are we to git near?"
“Leave the hosses round the bend an' try to sneak up—they won't find aimin' too easy if we keep the lead flyin'.”
“I'll give 'em a chance first," the sheriff replied.
Before the rancher could protest, he rode forward, alone, right hand raised, palm outwards, the Indian form of the white flag. He had not proceeded far when the ugly features of Roden bobbed up behind the barrier.
“That'll be near enough," he called. "Who are you an' what's yore errand?"
“I'm the sheriff o' Red Rock, an' I'm lookin' for a fella named Lander."
“Never heard of him."
“He hides his face behind a red mask," Dealtry went on. "Turn him over to me, surrender yoreselves, an' I'll deal with you as leniently as the law will let me. That's my only offer."
“An' here's mine," Roden retorted. "Git to hell outa here or I'll send you there. Scat!" He fired as he finished, and the bullet ballooned the dust under the belly of the officer's horse. "That's the on'y ca'tridge I'm wastin'," he added.
Dealtry paced slowly back to his companions. The horses were bestowed safely, and the men, prone on their stomachs and taking advantage of any inequality in the ground which would serve as shelter, began a steady bombardment. The besieged replied, but the hail of lead soon rendered the loopholes in the gate dangerous, and their response slackened. During a slight lull, the muffled crash of gun-fire in the distance announced that the second attack had commenced.
The Double K cowboys and their supporters from Dugout had, in fact, the harder task, and Lanky—who had been appointed leader—muttered grotesque oaths as he surveyed the narrow approach, with its perpendicular cliff on one side and precipice on the other.
“What we want is wings, an' the on'y kind we're liable to git'll have a harp thrown in," he grumbled. "Hey, Jansen, what's that young cannon yo're totin'?"
“She's an old Sharps buffalo gun," the store-keeper replied. "Kicks like a mule, but throws a two-ounce slug what'll go through a man like he ain't there."
“Can yu use her?"
“I expect there's some here could shoot better," Jansen confessed.
“Yu take my Winchester an' lemme try her," Lanky suggested.
Flattened out in a little hollow, he cuddled the stock of the weapon, took careful aim, and fired. The shrill burst of profanity and tornado of lead which followed the boom of thebig gun denoted that damage had been done. Afterwards they learned that the shot had passed through a loophole, shattered the chest of a bandit about to fire, and permanently crippled another behind him.
“She's bully," Lanky said, ejecting the empty shell and pushing in a second. "If we had six o' these, we'd knock that blame' gate to hellangone.”
Meanwhile, Sudden and his party were preparing to get into the game. The topmost cave, at least, seemed to be unguarded, and a rope having been adjusted, Sudden and Lagley slid down to investigate. A cautious peep at the street below showed it to be deserted; the ladder for the next step in the descent was in position.
“Anybody watchin' will be at the bottom," Sudden said. "Call the boys.”
Keith and the other four joined them. In the cave below they again found a ladder, and silence, save for the dulled, spiteful voices of the guns outside. A third stage, and a querulous remark drifted up to them: "Just our luck to be tied here, missin' all the fun. I told Turvey they wouldn't know—hello, Flicksy, how's it goin'?"
“Bad," came the reply. "Th' gate can't last much longer—they got a buffalo gun what's makin' matchwood of it. Turvey an' two more is cashed an' most of us chipped some.”
“What about them?"
“I sent one over th' edge an' I reckon he won't feel th' bump when he lands, but we dassen't show a nose. I du no who cut them damn loopholes, but ..." The stream of blasphemies died away in the distance.
“Mebbe we ain't so unlucky arter all," a new voice said. There were two of them, squatting near the entrance to the cave, rifles within reach. Noiselessly as cats, the cowboys crept down the ladder, and before the surprised sentinels could utter a sound, they were roped, gagged, and carried to the floor above. So far, all had gone well, but the crucial moment had come. Sudden had his plan ready.
“Jeff an' Frosty will come with me to search out Miss Keith an' Satan," he said. "The rest o' yu can drive these dawgs from the Dugout gate an' let our lads in.”
With his two companions, he ran swiftly across the open space, kicked wide the door of the Chief's quarters and dashed in, only to hear the slam of the trap as it fell into place.
“Damnation, he must have seen us," he cried.
They uncovered the opening to see the ladder lying below. Sudden did not hesitate; hanging by his hands, he dropped, landing safely; the others followed. Flinging back a second trap-door, they raced down into the room Jeff knew so well; it was empty. Sudden sprang to the window just in time to see the man they sought leap into the saddle of his black and spur the animal into the undergrowth. "You taught me that trick, Sudden," came the shouted taunt. The swinging rope-ladder seemed a further mockery.
“Can't we follow?" Keith asked despairingly.
“Yeah, when we get hosses. He had his getaway all fixed, if the cards went against him. But he was alone. C'mon, we're wasting time.”
They made their way up again to find a very different scene. The eastern gate had fallen, and the Double K cowboys, shouting and shooting, were driving the remnant of its defenders before them. From the drifting clouds of thin blue smoke came spits of flame and the crack of exploding cartridges. Yells of defiance, curses and groans of stricken men added to the clamour. Though the outlaws fought with the courage of cornered beasts, Sudden could see that victory was but a matter of time.
“We gotta find someone who can give us news o' Miss Keith," he said.
At that moment, Lazy emerged from one of the caverns with a prisoner; it was Anita.
“Hi, yu Frosty fella, look what I found," he called out.
Sudden went to them. "yu've found a very good friend o' mine, Lazy," he said. "I'm obliged to yu for takin' care of her." The cowboy let go the captive's wrist as though it burned him. The girl's dark eyes asked a question.
“He escaped—for the time," Sudden told her. "We are looking for Miss Keith."
“He sent her away yesterday, with Silver, and the other woman," she replied. "I saw them pass along the valley, going west.”
She could tell them no more, having had but a glimpse, but the news drove the blood from Jeff's cheeks and brought an oath to his lips. A burst of cheering from the other gate, and flying figures seeking sanctuary in the cave-dwellings from the pitiless leaden pellets, announced the triumph of the Twin Diamond contingent. Hell City was taken. The firing died out, a little breeze dispelled the veil of smoke and acrid smell of burnt powder; here and there, arms outflung, face downwards, lay the form of what had lately been a man.
The sheriff and Merry came hurrying up, both with the same question. The answer left them glum indeed.
“Me, Frosty, an' Jeff is takin' the trail soon as we get our hosses," Sudden told them.
“I'm with you," Dealtry said. "Mart, you ain't built for speed; s'pose you stay to clean house, an' then come along if we ain't back?"
“Suits me," the rancher replied.
“An' Mart, look after Miss Anita here—we owe her a lot." Sudden requested. "C'mon, fellas, let's get goin'." He started and stopped. "Which I'm shorely dumb. Where'd yu leave yore broncs, Mart? Just outside? We'll use some of 'em —that'll save time.”
Shortly afterwards they were travelling westward at full speed. When they reached the split in the trail, they had to decide which turning to take. Sudden got down and studied the surface.
“Several hosses have gone to the left recent," he said, "an' one of 'em was in a hurry. Hello, what's this?”
His searching eyes had caught a gleam of white in the grass, and he picked it up. The find proved to be a tiny fragment of linen, embroidered with the letters, "J.K." He passed it to Jeff, who needed only a glance.
“It's a bit of Joan's handkerchief—she must have dropped it in the hope that someone would follow."
“Smart of her to leave a signpost," Sudden remarked, and smiled as he saw the boy slip the said "signpost" into a pocket. "It's a safe bet Satan is on his way to join her.”
Frosty was enjoying a private joke. "We are now leavin' the place where I staged my on'y hold-up an' got away with thirty thousand cold, belongin' to the Bosviile bank," he stated, with a sly look at Dealtry.
“Best tell a straight story, or the sheriff will pull yu in," Sudden bantered. "An' keep agoin' while yo're doin' it.”
The Double K rider obliged, telling the tale in a whimsical way which made two of his hearers laugh; Dealtry listened with grave intentness, his gaze on the man pounding along a pace ahead of him.
“yo're an odd number, Jim," he said. "If ever you take the crooked trail, I hope it don't lead you to these parts; you'd get us all guesin'—wrong.”
The compliment brought a sardonic smile to the puncher's lips; the sheriff did not know that the man to whom he paid it had already a price on his head.
CHAPTER XXVI
Some eight miles past the Devil's Bowl was a similar but smaller hollow, one side of which sloped gently to the sagebrush plain which rose and fell unendingly to the horizon, while the other climbed abruptly to a jagged ridge. At the farther end, hedged in by pines, stood a great tooth of rock, streaked and splashed with reds, greens, and yellows. At the foot of it, some ten yards apart, were a couple of caves, and in front of them, a level expanse of scorched grass.
The place was known as Painted Valley, and it was here that Silver and his charges were waiting. The women, after a night passed in one of the natural shelters, were sitting in the shade of the trees. The man was squatting on a big boulder a little distance away, watching. The horses, still saddled,were tied to the pine-trunks. Joan regarded the animals wistfully. "Can't we reach them and escape?" she ventured.
“I have no wish to," Belle replied. "Even if it were possible, wandering in this wilderness without supplies doesn't appeal to me. Moreover, Silver has a gun.”
The spoke seldom after this, for Belle seemed to have become infected with her companion's moodiness. The hours crept slowly by and the afternoon was well advanced when Silver, who had left his post only to prepare a meal or water the ponies, scrambled clumsily down and ran towards them. "He's a-comin' an' ain't losin' no time neither," he rumbled.
Joan retired to their cave; she would not be there to welcome him. Silver's throaty laugh followed her.
“Gone to prink up, I s'pose," he said. "She's a good-looker, but I knows a better.”
His meaning ogle incensed the woman. "Guard that tongue or your master shall cut it out," she replied fiercely. Ordinarily the threat would have made him cringe, but this time she saw the mammoth shoulders quivering with silent mirth.
Swiftly the black horse swept along the valley to pull up, panting. Bloody wounds, dust-caked, where the spurs had bitten too deeply, showed it had been cruelly ridden. The rider too was breathing heavily, and below the mask, his face was white. He staggered a little as he alighted.
“What has happened?" Belle asked.
“Hell City is captured," he told her. "I got away, but they are on my heels, three of them, and one is the sheriff of Red Rock."
“Why is he in it?"
“I shot his son. Curse it, they can't be more than two miles away, and there's nowhere to hide here."
“If we start at once ... “
Impatiently he shook his head. "They would run us down —we couldn't blind our tracks.”
Belle stepped to him, her eyes eager. "I've an idea, Jeff. We can trick them, and gain time. It's you they want.”
He listened avidly. "It's clever, damned clever, and should serve," he said. "You would do this for me?"
“Even more, as you will learn," she murmured. "Now, send Silver to the spring—he will be out of sight there—give me your mask, and put Pluto at the entrance to the second cave. A whistle will tell me when to act."
“You have a head, Belle," he complimented. "I shall make for Willow Bend, California. Meet me there, and we'll conquer the world—together.”
He handed her the disguise and turned quickly away to complete the preparations. The black was placed at the mouth of the cave, but not until he had changed the costly saddle for that on one of the other ponies. This occupied precious moments, and he had but just finished and concealed himself when three horsemen appeared on the far rim of the valley. He gave the signal, and at once a figure, dressed like himself, the turned-back brim of the soft hat clearly showing the red mask, darted out, leapt into the saddle of the black, and shot away towards the plain. The new arrivals saw it, too, and with a shrill yell, set off in pursuit. Satan's expression was one of triumphant derision.
“Run, you mud-heads," he muttered. “By the time you catch Pluto, tired as he is, I shall be out of your reach. It will be a pity if they shoot you down, my Belle, but it will save you a disappointment at Willow Bend, if there is such a place.”
When the riders had vanished, he entered the second cave and called softly, "Joan." The girl in the shadow turned, and he fell back as though he had encountered an unseen obstacle.
“You?" he gasped. "You—have dared—to play this prank?"
“Yes, I dared," Belle repeated steadily, but her heart was hammering. "I had the courage to do that—for you." The face she was seeing for the first time in its entirety was that of a fiend. The right hand, fingers spread, moved slowly towards his gun and she knew that death was very near. Her voice did not falter. "Hear me, Jeff: the Double K is lost, and that girl could not bring it back. What use would she be to you? I am different—your kind, the wolf-breed—ready to war with the world. You have lost this throw, but such a man as you is never beaten, he plays again—and wins.”
The sinister hand had stopped. She drew herself up, stamped her foot, and cried, "Am I not as desirable as that prim madam of whom you would tire in a month?" The challenging charm of her brought a flash of life into the flinty eyes, and she added softly, "Once you told me, `Love is all-powerful; it will find a way, and it forgives.' Well, I love, I have found a way, but it is for you to forgive.”
She stood with bent head, as in submission, but she felt that she had won. And so it proved; her beauty, spirit, and subtle flattery had fired his imagination, and wiped out—for the moment—his defeat. Impetuously he took her in his arms.
“By Heaven, you're right, girl," he said. "I've been blind—”
The low growl of a wild beast cut him short and he turned to see Silver at the entrance, head down, long arms swinging.
“That's my woman," the dwarf said thickly. "you promised if I treated 'em fair I should have her.”
Belle recoiled from her lover with a look of loathing. "You —did—that?" she whispered. "you would have given me to a —monster?"
“It was a pretence, for your sake, Belle," Satan protested. "I never meant to ..." He saw that she did not believe, and swung round on the intruder. "Get out," he ordered.
“I want my woman," Silver grunted. "I'm takin' her—now.”
He moved forward, dogged, threatening, teeth bared, the great paws of him opening and shutting; desire had destroyed dread of his master, and he was blind to everything but the prize he had been promised.
This second defiance fanned Satan's fury to a white heat. Snatching out a gun he sent a bullet into the broad breast. Silver wavered, but came on. Again the bandit fired, and this time the stricken man stopped, head swaying uncertainly from side to side. Then, with glazing eyes and lips which moved soundlessly, the ponderous body collapsed as though the puny legs could no longer support it. Ashen-faced, the woman stared at it.
“You—murderer," she breathed.
Ere the man could reply there came ä voice from without: "Lander, I'm waitin' for yu.”
The flush of passion on the killer's face faded, leaving it ghastly. Sudden! What freak of Fortune had brought him to bar the way to liberty and life? The swift advent of peril found him unprepared. Instinctively he looked at Belle.
“What can I do?" he muttered.
“Play the man—for once," she replied harshly, and he knew that his infamy had turned her love to hate.
Into his craven heart crept a cold despair. Wantonly, without a qualm, he had sent others into the Great Unknown, and now ... It seemed incredible; he was young, strong, and yet, out there in the sunlight, death awaited him. His numbed senses could not realize it.
“Lander !”
The one word carried a threat. Motionless as a statue, the woman watched the man fight his fear, and heard the horrible croaking laugh as the actor in him came to the surface.
“I believe that is my cue," he said, and stepped, with leaden feet, into the open.
The puncher was standing about fifteen paces distant, hands hanging by his sides. He was alone, and this brought the bandit a faint hope, and a regret—that he had slain Silver.
“What do you want with me?" he demanded. "Payment," Sudden said sternly. "Yu forced me to take the life of one I had been sent to save—Dolver.”
As the full import of this statement seeped into Satan's brain, tempestuous rage took the place of terror. This fellow, emissary of the Governor he had derided, had outplayed him at every point and wrought the ruin of his plans. He, the clever schemer and born leader, had been deceived and defeated by this—cowboy. The shock to his abnormal vanity bred only one craving—to kill. After all, they were man to man, and he was a fine shot.
“So you're a dirty spy, too?" he jeered. "Well, why don't you shoot?"
“I'm giving' yu what yu never gave—a chance," Sudden replied. "We'll walk towards each other, an' at the word `Three,' go for yore gun.”
He took a pace and called, "One,"; a second, "Two"; and then it happened: with an inarticulate curse, the other man whipped a weapon from his belt and fired. Incredibly fast as the movement was, Sudden had seen it, yellow flame jetted from his right hip, and Satan stumbled to fall headlong, his fingers clawing convulsively at the grass. Out of the swirling smoke, Sudden advanced gun in hand; Silver might still to be reckoned with. But instead of the stunted, uncouth figune, it was Belle Dalroy who appeared. Gazing dry-eyed at the body, she said: "Crooked to the last."
“Where is Miss Keith?" the puncher asked, and when she had told him, added, "We owe yu somethin' for that."
“No, I wanted her out of the way," she said sharply. Somewhere in her warped nature was a streak of honesty. "What are you going to do with me?”
He pointed to the plain; two riders were approaching. "One o' those fellas is sheriff o' Red Rock. In yore place, I'd climb a hoss an' beat it.”
Her set features softened. "You're a good sort," she murmured. "I wish—"
“They'll be here mighty soon," he said meaningly. "Take the pony with the pretty saddle.”
She understood; that had been Satan's, and he would not have left Hell City empty-handed. By the time the horsemen arrived, the trees had hidden her from view. Dealtry jumped down and turned the corpse over; the bullet had entered between the eyes.
“That's Lander, shore enough," he remarked with grim satisfaction. "Lucky, after all, yore bronc went lame—he'd 'a' got away; it was one damned smart dodge. You see—"
“I had' it from Miss Dalroy," Sudden said. "It was her notion, not his. Dressed as he was—a woman's whim—and with the hoss and the mask, it looked a cinch. He thought she was takin' the ride, but she swapped duds with Miss Keith."
“Yeah, an' a nice chase she gave us. That black can run, I'm tell n' you; we'd still be admirin' his hind-quarters if Jeff hadn't fired. Shore he missed, but I s'pose it scared her, for she stopped an' faced round. You oughta seen him when we rode up, three growed men with guns drawed on that slip of a gal, but mebbe we looked as sick as he did. Frosty an' me gits the same idea—that we'd important business elsewhere. We left Jeff to do the explainin' an' I reckon he's still doin' it. What's come o' that Dalroy woman?"
“A pony is missin' but I didn't see her go," the puncher replied, omitting to add that he was looking the other way at the time.
“How did yu know Lander was here, Jim?" Frosty enquired.
“Crossing the valley, I saw Silver enter one o' the caves an' heard a shot," was the reply. "I figure we shall find him.”
They did, and the sheriff pointed to the heavy Colt's revolver thrust through the waistband of the dead dwarf.
“Just—plain—murder," he pronounced.
Sudden nodded. "He killed the man who might have saved him; he shorely had `lost his medicine.' "
“We'll plant this one, but the other goes back with us—folk has to see him," Dealtry decided. "Pity we ain't got the mask."
“We have," Frosty told him, and produced it from a pocket. "I scooped her up as we came away; Miss Joan must 'a' dropped it.”
So, hanging limply across the back of a pony, the Boss of Hell City returned to his shattered kingdom.
* * * Out amongst the sagebrush, two young people who had so much to say, sat tongue-tied. The girl, painfully conscious of her masculine attire, kept her head bent, or the warm admiration in the boy's eyes might have reassured her. He was the first to speak.
“Thank Heaven you are safe, Joan. But why are you here?" Falteringly she told of Belle's offer. "I had no choice; she would have gone herself if I did not, and that would have left me alone with ... I knew I was helping him, but my one thought was to get away. I had to ride hard—Belle said they would shoot."
“I shall never forgive myself for that. God! I might have killed you."
“You could not know," she reminded gently.
“Dealtry and Frosty will be too late," he said moodily. "That devil has slipped through our fingers, and now ...”
She read his thought. "Your friends will believe, Jeff," she consoled.
“There will always be some to doubt," he replied bitterly, and then forced a smile to his lips. "I'm an ungrateful cuss, Joan. After all, you have escaped from that dog, and I am free of one horrible suspicion; Dealtry knows now that it was Lander who shot his son."
“Oh, Jeff, I am so glad," she cried. "Of course, I never believed ..." She broke off breathlessly, and then added, "you will come back to the Double K now?"
“Yes, I must take my medicine," he replied.
“I don't think it will be a very bad dose," she smiled happily. "Let's go at once.”
He was turning his horse when an exclamation of dismay arrested him.
“Not that way, Jeff; I can't be seen in these awful clothes."
“But you make the prettiest kind of boy, Joan," he protested. "The outfit will be falling in love with you all over again, and I'll have to lick the lot of them." He paused, fearing he might have offended, but her downcast eyes and flushed cheeks did not indicate anger. "I've no right to talk like this, but while I was in that living tomb, I used to have visions of you as the wife of another man, and it was torment. Tell me, dear, is there ...?”
Joan Keith was no coquette. She shook her head, and said softly, "It was always you, Jeff. Even when I could not but believe—the worst, I—still—cared.”
Perhaps the horses understood, or had also something to say to one another, for without either rider being conscious of movement, they were side by side. Jeff had but to stretch out his arms.
When Sudden and his companions reached Hell City again they were met by Mart Merry, who surveyed the red-masked, gruesome burden they brought with callous complacency.
“So yu got him?" he said. "Where's Joan?" The information produced a hoarse chuckle. "Durn that boy; we get him outa one scrape an' right off he tumbles into another," quoth the hardened bachelor. "It looks like Ken will have his own way after all." He turned to the sheriff. "Mighty near straightened up here. A few made their getaway, but we've some prisoners for yu. Come an' look 'em over.”
Apart from the shattered gate, and the fact that men were digging holes in the corral, the bandit town wore its custom ary appearance. Near the whipping-post was a group of bound men, among them Squint.
“Where's Roden?" Sudden asked.
“He stopped a slug an' it stopped him," the ruffian replied. Dirk too was there. The puncher pointed to him. "He warn't one o' the gang—just ran the saloon—got a wife an' kids, too," he said.
The sheriff looked at the other prisoners. "Did this fella fight against us?" he enquired, and when several of them growled a sullen negative, gave orders for his release.
The moment he was free the saloon-keeper looked for his benefactor, but Sudden had vanished; he did not like being thanked. Moreover he wanted Nigger, so he and Frosty used the secret exit and having regained their own steeds, set out for the Twin Diamond.
“Satan's saddle warn't on the black nor any o' the other hosses," Frosty remarked. "D'yu reckon the Dalroy woman hived it?"
“Likely," his friend replied.
“Bet it was worth takin'," the Double K rider ruminated, and with a sly glance, "Why didn't yu go with her, Jim? She's as pretty as a picture, an' she'll have a wad—now."
“When a man marries he wants more'n a picture, even if it does have a gold frame," Sudden told him. "I got somethin' to do before I start fussin' around females.”
And Frosty, who knew what that "somethin' " was, had nothing to say.
CHAPTER XXVII
The day following the fall of Hell City was one of rejoicing tempered with regret, for casualties had not been confined to the conquered; there were gaps in both outfits, Dugout and Red Rock had lost citizens, and the wounded were many. But the job was done, thoroughly.
At the Double K ranch-house, the Colonel was receiving visitors. He had heard a wellnigh incredible story, and insisted on seeing the Principal performers in the drama. So, one by one, Merry, the Red Rock sheriff, Sudden, Frosty, and the Double K foreman filed into the bedroom, where the invalid—propped up by pillows, with Joan sitting beside him—apologized with old-world courtesy.
“Yu don't have to say a word, Ken," Merry assured him. "We're mighty glad to be able to see yu a-tall. How're yu makin' it?”
The Colonel replied that he was progressing favourably, and asked for details of the strange happenings of which he had been given only an outline. He listened as each added his quota to the tale, but his gaze was on the door. Presently it opened, Jeff stepped in, and stood, waiting. Instantly the deep-sunk eyes in the sick man's gaunt face became obdurate, relentless.
“What do you here?" he asked harshly. "Have you come slinking back to see if there is still a hope of regaining the inheritance you threw away?”
The thunderstruck company saw the boy's face turn as white as that of the man who hurled this cruel question at him, but there was no anger in it.
“No, sir, I came to beg a father's forgiveness and nothing -more," he answered quietly.
“Very touching, but a lie," was the searing retort. "I happen to know that, in case I decline to be duped, you have provided yourself with a second chance by persuading this foolish girl that you care for her."
“Oh, Daddy Ken," the "foolish girl" murmured, and hid her shamed face.
Merry stood up. "Ken Keith, yo're my friend, but if yu wasn't crippled, I'd shake the eternal lights out'n yu. Of all the—”
The Colonel did not let him finish. "Attend to your own affairs, Mart, and allow me to deal with mine," he snapped. "As for you Joan, if you marry that fellow, you go to him empty-handed. That makes a difference, doesn't it?”
The girl's wet eyes met his steadily. "No," she replied.
“Joan is more to me than all the ranches in Arizona," young Keith said. "I have learned my lesson, sir, and I'm sorry you—feel this way.”
He was turning to leave when Merry spoke again: "Hold yore hosses, I'm comin' along. We'll go to the Twin Diamond, an'—" He stopped, and the belligerent look faded when he saw the change in the Colonel's face; the sternness had gone, and with a smile which was like the sun bursting through a cloud, the old man said:
“Would you rob me of my boy, Mart?”
The fat man stared open-mouthed, but Jeff understood. With a bound he was at the bedside, gripping the thin white hand waiting for him.
“Dad!" he cried.
“Forgive me, lad," Kenneth Keith said. "I had to try you —for Joan's sake; I couldn't trust her to a weakling." Taking the girl's hand, he placed it in that of his son. "There must always be a Keith at the Double K, Jeff."
“I hope there will be, sir," the young man replied, with a look which brought the blood back into Joan's cheeks.
By this time Merry had recovered. "Well, yu of fraud, I'm free to admit yu had me razzle-dazzled," he remarked. "Shore thought yu meant it, an' I 'most wish yu had; I was figurin' on gettin' me a son an' daughter at the ranch-house." He sensed the significance of Frosty's grin. "O' course, she'd want repairin' some."
“All she needs is new floors, walls, roof, an' fixin's," the white-headed cowboy suggested. "The ground's good.”
This produced a laugh in which the owner of the maligned edifice joined heartily. Then the Colonel spoke.
“My friends, I owe a great debt to all of you, but especially to James Green, whom I woefully misjudged.”
The Twin Diamond man could not resist the opportunity. "I put one over on yu there, Ken; said all along he was straight.”
The Colonel turned on him sharply, and—smiled. "That is so," he agreed, and Mart—who had expected a prompt contradiction—was sorry he had spoken. Then, divining Sudden's evident discomfort, the invalid went on, "We must have a long talk, Green, when I am stronger. Now, I see my nurse is looking severe ...”
Jeff lingered behind the others. "Dad, you're being very good to me," he said.
“Nonsense, son," was the reply. "When a man is ill, he has time to think, and I have found much to regret. Run along and entertain our guests.”
Later, Sudden encountered Lazy and enquired about• Anita.
“She's here, goin' to be Miss Joan's maid—for a spell," the cowboy told him, and reddened at the other's, "Good luck to yuStaring after the tall, loose-limbed figure as it swung towards the corral, he muttered, "How'n th' devil did he guess? Hope he ain't interested—I wouldn't have a chance.”
The sheriff of Red Rock shouted a welcome as "Mart Merry's visitor" stepped into his office some weeks after the effacement of Hell City. Then he looked out of the window and saw that the black had a blanket roll strapped to the saddle.
“Ain't leavin' us, are you, Jim?" he asked.
“Shore am, an' sorry to be," the puncher told him. "They let you go?"
“It warn't easy; the Colonel an' Mart made me han'some offers, Jeff an' Frosty damn near pulled guns on me, an' Miss Joan cried, which was wuss'n all."
“Then why in the nation ...?"
“Somebody's waitin' for me in Tucson.”
Dealtry thought he understood. "An' she'll be anxious, huh?”
Sudden grinned. "Yo're way off the trail, sheriff. The person waitin' for me is a shortish, middle-aged fella, with grey hair an' a persuasive manner. They call him `Bloke,' an' he can be—times."
“The Governor?"
“Yeah, an' he'll be wonderin' if he oughta send a wreath.”
“So you're from him? You kept it mighty close.”
“I'm the third." He told the fate of his predecessors. "I expect they talked too much.”
The sheriff breathed hard. "An' we thought he was doin ' nothin'," he said. "I'll bet he'll be pleased with you."
“Just a shake an' a `Well done, Jim,' but I reckon them's the best words a man can hear in this li'l of world.”
Dealtry reached into a drawer, produced and passed over a familiar folded paper."Found it on Lander. Mean anythin' to you?”
Sudden laughed. "Shore, it's my letter of introduction to Hell City. A long story, sheriff."
“I never was curious," the officer replied.
He got out a bottle and they drank together, solemnly, as men do when they have to part, and regret it. Their farewell was a mere hand-clasp and a "So long"—it was an undemonstrative land.
Standing in his doorway, Dealtry watched the black horse pace slowly along the street. When, at length, it disappeared in the distance, he said softly:
“Well done, Jim."

___The End___