The shallow, hooded eyes of Fenwick fastened on him. 'You're too soft for this business. It takes a man with sand in his craw. I suppose yore idea would be to sit around and do nothing while this fellow gathers evidence to send you to the pen.'
Nuney flushed angrily. 'Maybe I'm not so soft as you think, Brick. Anyhow, I'm going to have a chance to toughen up. In a few days I'll be in the Marines. What killing I do will be on the level and for Uncle Sam.'
'That's nice,' Fenwick retorted with gentle malice. 'Bill is going to be a hero, boys.'
Nuney glared at him, but did not answer.
LIKE OTHER Arizona packing plants the Gibson Company had recently cut down from three shifts to one, pending a Government adjustment of prices. The packers claimed they could not operate without loss when there was a ceiling on their product, but none on livestock. This was one of the many inevitable tangles that had to be straightened out by the agencies trying to keep living costs from getting too high.
Since the demand for meat was great, Stevens could understand how an unscrupulous operator like Jubal L. Gibson would welcome an illicit supply of beef on the hoof without inquiring too carefully from where it came. No doubt he safeguarded himself by requiring proof of ownership, though the low price of the stuff he bought from Black's dummies must make him aware of crookedness.
Both Stevens and Arnold were convinced that an examination of the packing plant's books would show no evidence of guilt. The checks paid would be normal. Refunds by Black in cash would go into Gibson's own pocket and no entry of this would appear in the books. Proof of theft must be made by an examination of the hides. Since the last raid had been nearly two weeks ago, it was very likely that the hides had already been shipped to a tannery. But there was a chance that some of them were still in the company warehouse. If it was possible, they meant to get into the building and find out.
The job of getting into the warehouse must be done by forcible entry while the night watchman was in some other part of the plant. If caught, they would face a charge of burglary.
During the day they made the acquaintance of a workman who had been employed on the graveyard shift while the company was operating at full capacity. He was quite willing to drink a couple of free beers with two amiable strangers, and from him they pumped information he did not suspect was of any importance to them. Before parting company with him, they had a mental map of the physical plant and knew the routine habits of the night watchman.
It was after midnight when they walked cut of their hotel and got into the car Hal had left parked against the curb near the side entrance. As Hal drove down the main street, a sedan pulled up to the sidewalk in front of them. Out of it stepped four men. Two of them Hal did not know, but the others were Fenwick and Mullins. Cash Polk emerged from the shadowy alley to meet them.
Hal kept going, hoping they would not be noticed and recognized. To his companion he said, 'Brick Fenwick in that car.'
Arnold's gaze was glued to the men on the sidewalk. 'I saw him. They didn't even look at us.'
'That's a break. We'll have to decide what is best to do?'
Hal swung round the next corner and halfway down the block stopped under a cottonwood in a vacant lot.
'Do you think Black sent them to kill us?' Arnold asked.
'I left Brick Fenwick under Sheriff Elbert's charge, as I told you. Black must have got him out somehow. Perhaps he gave bond. Brick is boiling mad at me, and of course Cash has been in touch with Black. They did not come here to blow their money. This town doesn't offer entertainment enough. One of two reasons brought them — either to rub us out, or to take care of a bunch of beef stuff due to arrive.'
'Or to do both,' Arnold suggested.
They agreed that whatever the rustlers had come to do would be taken care of before morning. Black was too wily an old bird to have so many of his men hanging around any longer than necessary. The best plan seemed to be to keep an eye on the hill men. Soon the object of their coming would develop. If they had in mind murder, Arnold and Stevens would try to get out of their way and avoid a clash. But if cattle were being delivered from another raid, this might be a good opportunity to gather evidence.
They drove around the block and stopped opposite the side entrance of the hotel. Arnold scouted the Black party while Hal remained in the car.
From the corner Arnold saw the automobile of the cattle thieves still standing where they had seen it stop. Several of the men were grouped beside it, possibly talking over plans. Four men got into the car. It started down the street toward the hotel.
Arnold ran back to Hal. 'They're coming this way,' he warned.
The two men waited, nerves tense. Polk might have told his confederates where Arnold and Stevens were staying and this might be the attack. As the sedan passed the street intersection without stopping, Hal drew a breath of relief. Apparently the rustlers were not just now after them.
After a few moments he started the car, without putting on the lights. They swung in back of the hill men, staying well in the rear. The lights of the sedan guided them.
'Looks as if they were going back home,' Arnold said.
If so, the reason for their coming to Casa Rita was not clear. There would be no sense in driving forty miles, and after a five minute's stay heading for the place from which they had just come.
The road dipped down from the mesa to the desert stretch known as the Montoyo Flats. The moon was out, and it shone on a hillside of sahuaro to the right of them, the giant cactus looking like monuments in a ghostly graveyard. They passed this and came to the undulating floor of the valley.
'Blackout,' Hal said. 'We must be getting warm.' He stopped the car.
The lights of the sedan had gone out. They listened. Presently the light night breeze carried to them the faint sound of wheels moving.
'They are leaving the road,' Arnold remarked.
'Going where?'
'You tell me.'
To them there came the bawling of a steer.
Hal said, 'Listen.' The bellow reached them again. 'This is where we cache the car and foot it,' Hal decided, and swung the wheel sharply into the cholla growth beside the road. Somewhere in front of them, not far distant, was the rendezvous of the thieves.
'They must have pulled off another raid,' Hal guessed. 'If we are lucky, we may get the evidence we want right now.'
'And if we are unlucky?' Arnold asked dryly.
'If we are too unlucky Tick Black will sleep easier,' his friend answered. 'But I don't expect it to be that way.'
They did not return to the road, but worked their way through the cactus growth toward the bawling of the restless steers. Hal was in the lead, because he knew this outdoor life better than his companion. He moved slowly, careful to avoid stepping on any dry growth that would crackle beneath his feet. That they were too far from the scene of activity to be heard he knew, but it was possible that the rustlers had put out sentries to protect them from discovery.
The ground fell away in front of them. It was not light enough to see clearly, but Hal guessed this was the rim of a draw running down into Montoyo Flats. Judging by the noise made by the stock, the outlaws must be at work several hundred yards farther from the road. This was reasonable, since they would not want to be too near anybody traveling to or from Casa Rita.
Hal turned to the left, well back from the arroyo rim to escape likelihood of being seen. He whispered into Arnold's ear a warning against speaking or making any sound as he crept forward. They might stumble into a watcher at any time.
The bellowing of the stock was louder. A man's voice drifted to them. Stevens went down to his hands and knees, and Arnold followed suit. They edged toward the draw, taking advantage of every clump of greasewood or
