'And when you failed and returned to Hope, why didn't you organise a rescue?' asked the Governor.
'I gave a promise--that was the condition--an' I keep my word, even to such as them,' Bart retorted.
'How did you get these bills?' was the next question.
'Never had 'em. Severn lied when he said he found 'em in my desk,' the big man replied.
He was recovering his assurance, and his lips curled contemptuously. At a gesture from Embley, the man Patch stepped forward, and the lawyer said sharply :
'This is the Governor of the Territory. Take your hat off, fellow.'
The witness shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. 'If His Excellency don't mind, I'd ruther not for a while,' he replied huskily.
Bleke waved a hand impatiently. 'It doesn't matter,' he said. 'Tell your tale and see that it's the truth, or I shall know how to deal with you.'
Standing there, his hat slouched over his face and his thumbs hooked in his belt, the bandit shot a covern glance at Bartholomew, who was watching him uneasily. The rancher was feeling uncomfortable; he had taken little notice of the fellow when he had ridden in, but he now knew him for oneofthe White Masks.
'I'll start with the bank robbery, though that ain't the beginning,' the witness said, his voice low, hoarse, but pitched so that all could hear. 'I was one o' the two who went in; the man who held the horses is--dead.' A spasmofsatisfaction flitted across Bart's face at the news. 'I didn't fire the shot that downed Rapson.'
'Who did?' Bleke asked.
The witness pointed. `Bartholomew,' he answered.
Gaspsofamazement, mingled with burstsofderisive laughter, those of the accused being the loudest, followed the statement. 'Why, yu darnn fool, less'n half an hour after the robbery I was in town organisin' a posse to search out the thieves,' the Bar B man sneered.
'Yeah, a mile outa town yu left us, changed yore clothes an' hoss for others yu had cached, rode around through the brush an' come into Hope from the other side,' Patch said, adding quietly, 'I follered yu.'
'It's a cursed lie, an' I'll twist yore--'
'Let the man tell his story; I'll listen to you afterwards, Bartholomew,' the Governor intervened. He handed the alleged forgeries to Patch, and asked, 'What do you knowofthose?'
'Bartholomew wrote 'em,' was the unhesitating reply. 'Ignacio had orders to wipe Severn out, an' got wiped out hisself.'
'Ignacio's alive now,' the Bar B man protested.
'I saw him shot,' the witness went on stolidly. 'He ambushed Severn an' got what he deserved. The abduction o' Miss Masters an' the plantin' o' the stolen bills at the Lazy M were done by Bartholomew's orders, an' Severn's money was taken to him. Bartholomew was The Mask.'
The rancher laughed scornfully.
'Yu've taught this skunk--a confessed outlaw and thief--a pretty tale to save yore friend's hide, ain't yu, Embley?' he jeered.
The lawyer directed his answer to the Governor. 'I did not know what this man was going to say,' he explained. 'He enabled us to escape, and insisted upon accompanying us, giving no reason.'
Bleke nodded, his grey eyes cold and his features expressionless. For the time he was a judge, without friends or foes, there to weigh impartially the evidence put before him.
'What do you know about Masters?' he asked.
'A goodish bit,' Panch replied. 'I know that when he lost his wife it broke him up; he let go all holts an' went on the batter, drinkin' an' gamblin' with a mighty hard crowd. There come a day when the Desert Edge stage is held up an' the driver killed. Some here'll remember it.'
A chorusofconfirmatory nods, grunts and 'Yu betchas' greeted the statement.
'Well, that job was pulled off by the gang Masters was hellin' around with,' Patch continued. 'He come out of a drunken daze the rnornin' after it happened, an' was told that he'd not on'y took part in the robbery, but done the shootin', an' he was shown a paper to that effect, signed by one o' the others. Not bein' able to recollect where he was the day before, he believed it. The fella that had the paper promised it'd never be used--said he got it as a protection for the rest. As yu know, the road-agents never were traced.
'The shock of it jolted Masters straight agin. He gave up racketin' about an' went back to his ranch, but he wasn't the same man; the memory o' that mad crime--for he didn't doubt he'd done it--preyed on his mind, an' then the devil that held that damnin' evidence began to prey on him, too.'
He paused a moment. The silence was broken only by the birds and the stamping hoofsofrestless horses. The Bar B owner had lost his look of scornful unbelief, and there was fear in his eyes. He glanced furtively round, but he was hemmed in; there was nothing for it but to brazen things out. After all, they could have no prof; Masters was dead, and so were the others.
'At first it was only small sumsofmoney,' the witness went on, 'but they grew in size until at last Masters could raise no more. Then he had to give cattle, an' he began to see that nothin' less than his ranch an' his daughter would satisfy this human leech who, in the guiseofa friend, was suckin' him dry. He looked round for some way o' savin' what was left o' his property, an' the idea came to him that if he warn't there, the power o' the blackmailer would be gone. So he put a trustworthy man in charge o' the Lazy M, an' then--faded.'
'And the nameofthis--blackmailer?' the Governor asked. Patch pointed again. 'Bartholomew,' he said quietly.
The rancher had known what was coming and was ready. He swept off his hat and bowed ironically to the Desert Edge lawyer.
'Embley, I gotta hand it yu, yo're a good romancer, an' yore pupil done it damn well,' he said. 'But talk is easy an' don't prove nothin'.' He turned to the man who had so boldly accused him. 'How comes it yu know such a helluva lot about Masters? Mebbe yu killed him yoreself.'
The outlaw considered the matter for a moment and then said deliberately, 'I s'pose I did, in a manner o' speakin'.' A threatening murmur came from where the Lazy M outfit stood, and hearing it he flung up his head and laughed. 'Aw right, boys,' he cried, and the huskiness had gone from his voice, 'don't get het up; I'm goin' to bring yore boss to life agin.'
With a quick gesture he whipped off his hat, took the parch from his eye, and said, 'Phil'.
The girl had been staring at him, unable to recognise the father she had given up hopeofseeing again in the bearded man before her, but at the soundofher name spoken in the familiar voice, doubt could no longer exist, and with a cry of 'Daddy', she ran to his arms.
For a few moments the cheering rnob forgot everything save that the missing man, for whose murder another had been nearly done to death, had reappeared so dramatically. Severn, too, came in for part of the congratulations, men fighting to pat his back or shake him by the hand. The cow-puncher endured their enthusiasm with a saturnine smile; he knew that manyofthem would have hanged him with the utmost cheerfulness a short half hour earlier, had the cards fallen differently.
Chapter XXIII
To Black Bart, the reappearance of the missing rancher had been a well-nigh crushing blow, and for a moment flight seemed to be his only hopeofescaping, at the best, a long termofimprisonment. One swift glance told him that in the excitement he was being neglected, and he began to slowly edge his way outofthe crowd. But there was one other who, little interested in Masters, was greatly so in Bartholomew. The latter had only progressed a few yards when :'Oh, don't,' came a satirical warning whisper.
The Bar B man turned and saw that the speaker was Snap. The gunman's hands hung loosely over the buttsofhis forty-fives, and the slitted eyes and corded jaw-muscles conveyed the threat that was not in the words. The cattleman stiffened and stood still. Then he squared his shoulders, and his lips pursed in an ugly pout as a new thought came to him; Masters alive might still be used.
The Governor's voice was heard, calling for order. The milling mob fell back, all eyes on the little man who, dropping as it were from the sky, dominated them by the sheer powerofhis personality.
'I think, gentlemen, that Mr. Masters has more to tell us,' Bleke said.
With one arm round his daughter, the man who had been missing so long resumed his story. 'There ain't much more, but what there is means a lot--to me,' he began. 'When I left the Lazy M, I went to The Sink, where I had another hoss, clothes an' grub cached ready. I changed, shoved my old duds into a cleft in the rocks--'
