was loaded,' the young man retorted.
'Well, we'll hope it ain't--to-night,' his friend said. He looked at the clock and spoke to Jacob. 'We needn't to start yet. I've been watchin' this chess caper an' I'd like to try her out.' The old man, who was an enthusiast, readily agreed, and they sat down, with Mason an interested spectator. The battle lasted for nearly an hour and then the cowboy made a move and said quietly, 'I guess I got yu corralled, seh.' His opponent studied the board for a moment and then smilingly admitted defeat.
'I rather pride myself on the brand of chess I can produce,' he said, 'and here I am, beaten by a beginner. My wits must be wandering this evening.' He pondered for a while, recalling the stages of the game. 'Why, hang it all, you were jockeying me into that position right along and I failed to see it. Young man, I feel more hopeful about my dust.'
'Time we started,' Sudden said. 'Fetch the horses, Gerry, an' we'll need our rifles.' When the boy had gone, he added quietly, 'I'm afraid he's right--there's somethin' brewin', but it's too late to do any-thin'. We've no proof-- gotta go through with it. Tell Hickok, an' watch out for yorself.' He smiled. 'We won't be here to look after yu.'
'Don't worry about me,' Jacob told me. 'All I have to lose now will be with you.' Behind the Monte they found the coach, the body of which, slung on its leather supports, contained only a pile of packages covered with a canvas sheet. Injun Joe, the rugged-faced old driver, was examining every strap and buckle of the harness of his team of six horses. The express messenger, a shot-gun between his knees, was already on the box, and a couple of horsemen, whose turned-down hat-brims partly concealed their faces, were waiting. Reuben Stark was giving instructions.
'Slide outa town at a walkin' pace,' he said to the driver,who, satisfied that all was in order, now climbed to his seat. 'The escort'!! catch you up.'
'Don't hold 'em too long,' Injun Joe warned. 'Once I'm clear, I'll be travellin'. Sabe?' Creaking and rocking over the rough ground, the cumberous vehicle rolled away and was blotted out in the darkness. Sudden moved noiselessly to where the other men sat in their saddles and struck a match to light his cigarette. The tiny flare showed him a red wheal running up the cheek of the nearest rider.
'That's an ugly scar yu got, friend,' he remarked. 'Looks like yore bronc had piled yu into a cactus.'
'Nothin' o' the sort,' the man growled. 'If it's any o' yore damn business, a Greasex slung a knife at me.' Sudden flipped the match into the air, but not before he had caught the malevolent gleam in the fellow's eyes. He was a poor liar; the wound was ragged; a knife-blade would have made a clean cut.
'Wonder what he'd do if I called him 'Lem'?' he reflected.
Stark's voice, bidding them to be on their way, put an end to his meditations. The two strangers hung back, evidently intending that the other pair should precede them, but the puncher had different views.
'Go ahead,' he said sharply. 'We don't know the road.' Muttering, they obeyed, and the cowboys followed. When out of the town, they quickened pace and soon caught up the coach. It was moving at a fair pace, considering the surface over which it had to pass--a mere trampled trail made by the heavy wheels of innumerable freight- wagons, but the driver knew it, and even in the darkness, could pick out familiar landmarks. They had climbed out of the gulch and the keen night air bit their faces and fingers. The all-embracing silence was broken only by the drum of horses' hoofs, the rattle of harness, and, at intervals, the long weird howl of a wolf, prowling somewhere behind the funereal walls of foliage which fenced them in.
Presently the obscuring clouds slid aside and the pale light of the moon enabled them to get a glimpse of the grandeur through which they were passing.
The cowboys, riding easily, were not concerned with the scenery; their eyes were on the bobbing backs of the pair in front and the jerking, bumping blob which was the coach, less than fifty yards ahead. They had met no one save two teamsters with a load of lumber, a few miles out of Deadwood. Sudden had stopped for a moment.
'Ain't seed a soul 'cept a party o' four fellas, headed for Laramie,' one of them told him. 'No, I didn't reckernize any of 'em, but one was a short, chunky sort o' chap.'
'Which might describe friend Fagan,' Sudden commented, when they had resumed their way.
'Lesurge wouldn't send a man knowed to be his,' Gerry objected.
'Why not, if there's nobody left to spill the beans? He's figurin' we're on his side.'
'Any use warnin' them two on the coach?'
'What can we tell 'em?--we've on'y got suspicions. They're watchin' for trouble a'ready--that's their job.' At the foot of a long gradual slant, the sides of which were masked by dense brush, the driver pulled his team to a steady job-trot, and cursed fretfully:
'Blast this moon; makes fair targets of us.'
'What you scared of?' the messenger asked, shifting his shot-gun so that it lay handily across his thighs.
'Ain't scared o' nothin',' Injun Joe snapped, 'but I don't like the trip, an' I'd be a damn sight more pleased if them hombres behind was ridin' the other way.'
'Pull up an' make 'em ride in front,' the messenger suggested.
Before the other could reply, two spits of flame jetted from the shadows on either side of the trail and the leading horses went down, checking the coach with a jerk which almost overturned it. With a full-throated curse, the driver slammed his brake on, and the iron-shod wheels squealed like tortured souls; it was his last conscious act. A couple of sharp cracks and Injun Joe slipped limply to the footboard, while the express-man leaned forward to pitch headlong to the ground, his gun dropping beside him. An instant later, Sudden's Colt roared and the fellow with the scarred face gasped and fell from his saddle. His companion, with a blasphemous imprecation, spurred his mount and crashed into the undergrowth. The puncher sent a bullet after him.
'Hell, Jim, them jaspers are s'posed to be helpin' us,' Gerry cried.
'Didn't yu see?' Sudden asked savagely. 'Those skunks downed Joe an' the messenger, an' they'd 'a' got us if we'd been ahead. C'mon.' Stooping in his saddle, he dashed for the coach, and Gerry followed. On the right and left pistols exploded in the brush and bullets whined past their ears.
Just as they approached the conveyance, a tall man on footappeared, running towards it from the front. Sudden fired, and the fellow staggered, spun round, and collapsed in an untidy heap.
''Then there were four',' the cowboy quoted grimly. Anchored by the braked coach and the carcasses of the leaders, the other horses had overcome their frenzied fear and now stood, trembling, but comparatively quiet. Sudden had his plan ready.
'Shuck the harness off'n them dead broncs an' put our'n in their places,' he directed. 'I'll stand these devils off if they try to rush us.' But the road-agents had apparently no such intention. Satisfied that the vehicle could not be moved, they were content to stay under cover and pot the cowboys at their ease. A friendly cloud had blanketed the moon and with his back to the dark blur of the coach, Sudden made a poor mark; also it was difficult for the hold-ups to see what Gerry was about. One glance told that young man the messenger was dead--a bullet had gone through the back of his head. Injun Joe was still breathing, and, with Sudden's help, he was placed inside the coach, room being found too for the body of the guard.
Spasmodic shots interrupted these operations; lead zipped past or thudded into the woodwork, but neither man was hit. Sudden replied, firing at the flashes, and a string of oaths told him that one of his bullets had found a billet. By the time the moon peeped out again, the new leaders were in position; the big black was restive and disposed to be rebellious but a word from his master brought submission.
A yell apprised them that the enemy had at length guessed their purpose, and the hum of hot lead drove the warning home. Not even waiting to return the fire, Sudden sprang to the driver's seat and grabbed the lines. In a second Gerry was beside him, the long lash hissed like a snake over the horses' heads, and the coach started with a jolt which nearly upset it as the near wheels climbed the corpses of the slain leaders.
A howl of rage came from the road-agents as they broke from cover and saw their prey escaping, and a few futile shots followed. The sharp crack of Sudden's whip was the only answer.
'There was four of 'em, an' one was limpin',' Gerry reported. 'Think they'll follow?'
'Shore, they got horses, ain't they?' was the reply. 'Yore rifle handy?'
'Yu betcha,' Gerry told him. 'Got the messenger's shotgun too an' she looks a dandy scatterer.'
'Yu'll have to do the shootin'--it'll take me all my time to keep this damned contraption right way up.' The thud of rounding hoofs sounded above the bang and rattle of the bouncing vehicle. Sudden did not look round; his
