things on.'
'Then mebby he won't never look for any more.'
'That may be true; but what's th' use?'
'Reckon yo're right,' reluctantly admitted Johnny. 'Guess I'll go up to Kane's an' see what's happenin'. If Idaho comes in, or any more of my numerous friends.' he grinned, 'send 'em up there if they're askin' for me, I'll mebby be glad to see 'em,' and he sauntered out.
Ed smiled pleasantly at the other customer. 'Bad thing, a glass breakin' like that,' he remarked.
Bill Long looked at him without interest. 'Serves him right,' he grunted, 'for holdin' it so tight. Nobody was aimin' to take it away from him, was they?'
Johnny entered Kane's too busy thinking to give much notice to the room and the suppressed excitement occasioned by the robbery, and sat down at a table. As he leaned back in the chair he caught sight of a red-headed puncher talking to one of Kane's card-sharps and he got another shock. 'Holy maverick!' he muttered, and looked carelessly around to see if any more of his Montana friends had dropped into town. Then he smiled as the card- sharp looking up, beckoned to him. As he passed down the room he noticed the quiet easterner hunched up in a corner, his cap well down over his eyes, and Johnny wondered if the man ever wore it any other way. He was out of place in his cow-town surroundings—perhaps that was why he had not been seen outside of Kane's building. Ridley's remark about the tools came to him and he hesitated, considered, and then went on again. He had no reason to do Corwin's work for him. Dropping into a vacant chair at the gambler's table he grunted the customary greeting.
'Howd'y,' replied the card-sharp, nodding pleasantly.
'No use bein' lonesome. Meet Red Thompson,' he said, waving.
'Glad to meet you,' said Johnny, truthfully, but hiding as well as he could the pleasure it gave him. 'I once knowed a Thompson—short, fat feller. Worked up on a mountain range in Colorado. Know him?'
Red shook his head. 'Th' world's full of Thompsons,' he explained. 'You punchin'?'
'Got a job on th' SV, couple of days' ride north of here. Just come down with a little beef herd for Twitchell an' Carpenter. Ain't seen no good bunch of yearlin's that can be got cheap, have you?'
Red shook his head : 'No, I ain't.'
The gambler laughed and poked a lean thumb at the SV puncher. 'Modest feller,
Red's mild interest grew a little. 'That so? I passed yore ranch comin' down. Need another man?'
The SV foreman shook his head. 'I could do with one less. Them bank fellers picked a good time for it, didn't they?'
'They shore did,' agreed the gambler. 'Couldn't 'a' picked a better. Kane loses a lot by that, I reckon. Well, what do you gents say to a little game? Small enough not to cause no calamities; large enough to be interestin'? Nothin' else to do that I can see.'
Red nodded and, the limit soon agreed upon, the game began. As the second hand was being dealt Bill Long wandered in, talked for a few moments with the bartender and then went over to a chair. Tipping it back against the wall he pulled down his hat brim, let his chin sink on his chest and prepared to enjoy a nap. Naturally a man wishing to doze would choose the darkest corner, and if he was not successful who could tell that the narrow slit between his lids let his keen eyes watch everything worth seeing? His attention was centered mostly on the tenderfoot stranger with the low-pulled cap and the cutout squares in the great checkerboard partition at the rear of the room.
The poker game was largely a skirmish, a preliminary feeling out for a game which was among the strong probabilities of the future. Johnny and the gambler were about even with each other at the breaking up of the play, but Red Thompson had lost four really worthwhile jack pots to the pleasant SV foreman. As they roughly pushed back their chairs Bill Long stirred, opened his eyes, blinked around, frowned slightly at being disturbed and settled back again. 'Red couldn't 'a' got that money to him in no better way,' he thought, contentedly.
The three players separated, Johnny going to the hotel, Red seeking a chair by the wall and the gambler loafing at the bar.
'An' how'd you find 'em?' softly asked the wise bartender. 'Goin' after that foreman's roll?'
The gambler grunted and shifted his weight to the other leg. 'Thompson ain't very much; but I dunno about th' other feller. Sometimes I think one thing; sometimes, another. Either he's cussed innocent, or too slick for me to figger. Reckon mebby Fisher ought to go agin' him, an' find out, for shore.'
'How'd you make out, last night, with Long?'
'There's a man th' boss ought to grab,' replied the gambler. 'He didn't win much from me—but it's his first, an' last, chance with me. I don't play him no more. I'd like to see him an' Fisher go at it, with no limit. Fisher would have th' best of it on th' money end, havin' th' house behind him in case he had to weather a run of hard luck; but mebby he'd need it.'
As the gambler walked away the easterner arose, slouched to the bar and held a short whispered conversation with the man behind it.
The bartender frowned. 'You can't get away before night. Sandy Woods will take care of you before mornin', I reckon. Go upstairs an' quit fussin'. Yo're safe as a church!'
The bartender's prophecy came true after dark, when Sandy Woods and the anxious stranger quietly left town together; but the stranger had good reason to be anxious, for at dawn he was careless for a moment and found himself looking into his escort's gun. He had more courage than good sense and refused to be robbed, and he died for it. Sandy dragged the body into a clump of bushes away from the trail and then rode on to kill the necessary time, leading the other's horse. He was five thousand dollars richer, and had proved wrong the old adage about honor among thieves.
WHEN the senior member of the firm of Twitchell and Carpenter read Ridley's letter things began to happen. It was the last straw, for besides being half-owners in the bank the firm had for several years been annoyed by depredations committed by Mesquite citizens on its herds. The depredations had ceased upon payment of 'campaign funds' to the Mesquite political ring, but the blackmail levy had galled the senior member, who was not as prone as Carpenter was to buy peace. Orders flew from the firm's office and the little printing-plant at Sandy Bend broke all its hazy precedents, with the result that a hard-riding courier, relaying twice, carried the work of the job-print toward Mesquite. Reaching Ridley's domain he turned the package over to the local superintendent, who joyously mounted and carried it to town.
Tim Quayle welcomed his old friend, listened intently to what Ridley had to say and handed over an assortment of tacks and nails, and a chipped hammer. ''Tis time, Tom,' he said, simply.
Ridley went out and selected a spot on the hotel wall and the sound of the hammer and the sight of his unusual occupation caused a small crowd of curious idlers to gather around him. When the poster was unrolled there were sibilant whispers, soft curses, frank prophesies, and some commendations, which was entirely a matter of the personal viewpoint. Half an hour later, the last poster placed, Ridley took a short cut, entered the hotel through the kitchen and went into the barroom. What he had published for the enlightenment, edification, or disapprobation of his fellow-citizens was pointed and business-like, and read as follows:
Quayle turned and smiled at the T & C man. 'Ye've slapped their faces, Tom. Mind yore eye!'
'They've prodded th' old mosshead once too often,' growled Ridley, looking around at Johnny, Idaho, and the others. 'I reckon this stops th' blackmail to th' gang. When I wrote my letter I expected somethin' would happen, an' th' letter I got in return near curled my hair. Twitchell's fightin' mad.'
'Th' reward's too big,' criticized Idaho.
'I'm fearin' it ain't big enough,' said Ed Doane, shaking his head.
Ridley laughed contentedly. 'It's more than enough. There's men in this town, an' that gang, who would knife anybody for half of that. When they can get twenty-five hundred by simply openin' their mouths, without bein'
