'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--'
