happen to anyone, Nigger, 'specially a fool hoss, huh?' At the mention of the name, the black head swung round, the lips curled back from the white teeth. 'That's right, grin while yu can, yu of pie-buster, for I've a notion we'll have little to be amused about as time ticks along.'
He rode on for a mile or so and came to a spot where the wagon-road forked, one branch leading southwest. This was a smaller and less-used trail, formed--as the tracks showed--mainly by cattle and horses. Sudden swung into it.
'Shore oughta be a ranch at the end of it,' he soliloquized. 'Which one don't matter much to a stranger.'
The trail proved easy to travel, winding snake-like to avoid obstacles such as steep inclines, gullies, and thick plantations of trees, all of which would render the passage of a herd difficult. Some miles were covered at an easy pace, and then the muffled report of a rifle shattered the almost absolute stillness. The horse pricked up its ears, and the rider spoke soothingly:
'Easy, boy, it can't be us they're after,' he said. 'Too far in front, an' we ain't got enemies around here--yet. Allasame, we'll be careful.'
A pressure of a knee and the animal lengthened its stride. Sudden, no longer sitting slackly in the saddle, kept keen eyes on the path they were following. There were plenty of quite innocent reasons for the shot, but he was reaching the region of a range war, and ... A mile was traversed without further incident, and he was beginning to blame himself for over-caution when he turned into a sandy gully, the sides of which were hidden by brush. Here, nibbling at the tussocks of coarse grass along the edge of the trail was a saddled pony, and a few yards away, a man sprawled, face downwards.
To all appearance, he might have been thrown by his mount, but an ugly red stain between the shoulder- blades pointed to a more sinister explanation. Standing beside the body, Sudden saw it was that of a man on the wrong side of fifty, with thinning grey hair, and deeply-lined features. His eye caught the Circle Dot brand on the grazing horse; what Dan Dover feared had come to pass. The gunman's face grew grim.
'The cowardly skunk never gave him a chance,' he muttered, and with a glance at the enclosing walls of vegetation, 'Hell, he picked the right place too; small hope o' findin' any traces.'
Nevertheless, he fixed in his mind the exact position of the corpse in case it might assist in locating the spot whence the shot was fired. Then he bent to examine the wound; the bullet had smashed into the spine, and death must have been instant.
'stick 'em un. pronto!'
At the harsh command the stooping man straightened--slowly, to face four horsemen whose approach the soft, sandy floor of the ravine had deadened. Looking unconcernedly into the muzzles of four rifles, he raised his hands, but only far enough to hook the thumbs into the armholes of his vest.
'Howdy, gents,' he greeted. 'I'm glad to see yu.'
'Mebbe,' the one who had spoken before said dryly. 'What's goin' on here?'
He was a short, weedy fellow of middle-age, whose naturally cunning expression was enhanced by a pronounced obliquity of vision. A straggling moustache drooped around and over a weak mouth and inadequate chin. Even the star, prominently pinned to his flannel shirt, could not endow him with dignity. Sheriff Foxwell, commonly called 'Foxy' by friend and foe, was not a likeable person.
'Mile or so back on the trail I heard a shot, an' then I find--this,' Sudden replied, pointing to the dead rancher.
'Why, it's Ol' Man Dover!' one of the party cried.
They closed in on the prostrate-figure, thereby cutting off possible retreat by the man standing beside it. If he sensed the significance of this manoeuvre--and he could scarcely fail to do so--his demeanour was unchanged. The sheriff climbed clumsily from his horse.
'Shore is,' he said, 'an' cashed all right. Plugged in the back, an' his own gun in the holster. Where's his rifle?'
'On his hoss,' Sudden informed.
'Huh! Looks like a bush-whackin', but why?' Foxy questioned. He stooped and explored the dead man's pockets, producing a sizeable roll of currency. 'That don't point to robbery, unless--the fella was interrupted.' His squinting eyes rested on the stranger.
'Nobody in sight when I arrived.'
'Mebbe this gent'll tell us somethin' about hisself,' an older man suggested.
The sheriff looked sourly at him. 'I'm handlin' this, Hicks,' he reminded, 'but as you've butted in we might as well know what this hombre is doin' around here.'
'I'm on my way to the Circle Dot,' Sudden said quietly, and anticipating the obvious question, 'I was hopin' to land a job.'
The officer's eyes were sharp with suspicion. 'Happen to be acquainted with Dover?'
Never heard of him till this mornin',' was the indifferent reply. 'But I happen to be acquainted with cattle.'
The sheriff shrugged his shoulders. ' 'Pears an open an' shut case to me,' he said. 'You admit yore errand was to meet him, an' we find you standin' over his dead body, just about to search him, seemin'ly. Well, there's plenty trees, an' you got yore rope, Jed, I see.'
The man addressed, a lanky, raw-boned individual, nodded, and patted the looped lariat on his saddle-horn. Sudden looked at the puny maker of this swift decision with satirical disdain.
'If yo're tryin' to throw a scare into me I'm tellin' yu it's a waste o' time--I'm no greenhorn,' he remarked.
'Nary scare,' was the cool retort. 'We're just naturally goin' to hang you, that's all.'
'Well, it's a relief to know yu ain't aimin' to roast me at a slow fire, but has it occurred to yu that as I entered the gully from this end, an' the shot--by the position o' the body--must 'a' come from the other, there's a flaw in yore evidence? Any one o' yu might 'a' done it, but I couldn't.'
'Skittles! You'd make yore arrangements, o' course, shiftin' the corp to fit yore story.'
'Knowin' yu were comin', no doubt.'
'Now, that's where you slipped up,' Foxwell countered, an ugly grin on his thin lips.
The threatened man realized that the fellow was in earnest, and would carry out this monstrous injustice. He appealed to the others.
'Yu standin' for this?'
Hicks answered. 'It's the sheriff's business, but what about takin' him in, Foxy, an'--'
'Like you say, it's my business,' the officer cut in angrily. 'Here's a respected citizen foully done to death, an' we catch the culprit red-handed. Rainbow's had too many o' these killin's an' I'm goin' to stop 'em. Jed, git ready.' Before any of them could move, Sudden leapt backwards, thus bringing all the men in front of him. At the same instant, his hands swept his hips and both guns came out. So swift and unexpected had the action, been that the riders had no time to level the rifles held across their knees. Now it was too late; the man they had deemed to be in their power, had them in his; and it was a different man, a tense, half-crouching figure instinct with menace.
'Get ready yoreself, Sheriff, to hop into hell,' he said. 'I can down the four o' yu in as many seconds.' And to the horsemen, 'Drop them guns an' reach for the sky, or by the livin' God ...'
The weapons fell into the sand, and four pairs of hands were uplifted, but not in prayer. The sheriff's face had become a sickly yellow, and he was the first to obey the order, a fact which brought a cold smile from the giver of it.
'That's better,' he commented. 'Now yu be good li'l boys an' no harm will come to yu--mebbe.'
'Yo're resistin' the Law,' Foxwell spluttered fatuously.
'Me?' was the surprised retort. 'Why, I ain't resistin' any. Start the game, Sheriff; it's yore deal.'
The taunted officer was saved the necessity of replying by the arrival of a new factor. Into the ravine from the Sandy Bend direction loped a rider. He pulled up when he reached the group of men. Sudden swore under his breath; it was young Dover.
'You caught me up after all,' he said. 'But yo're too late.'
The boy gave one glance at the body, sprang from his saddle,
and knelt beside it. 'Dad!' he cried, and then, as the full extent
of his loss seeped in. 'So they've done it, the murderin' curs; I should never 'a' left you.' He looked up
