'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
