anythin' would wake the of skinful o' bones.'
'An' it didn't matter if the boy took a tumble, which--sick as he is--would possibly kill him?'
'Oh, I figured you'd sample the hoss first,' came the jaunty lie.
'Well, that makes it my affair. Any idea what the choya can do to man or beast?'
'No, allus avoid 'em m'self,' Flint grinned.
Sudden dropped the torturing thing. 'Yo're goin' to learn,'
he said, and with a lightning movement clutched the fellow by the throat, swung him off his feet, and sat him down on the cactus. With a howl of anguish Flint scrambled up and snatched out his gun, only to have it struck from his grasp and find himself sprawling on the ground from a flat-handed blow on the cheek. Frantically he tore at the cause of his suffering, and got more of the devilish spines in his fingers. A stinging, burning pain in every part of his body possessed him.
'Damn you all, git this cursed thing off,' he shrieked.
The men looked at Sudden, who nodded. 'Guess he knows what the choya can do now,' he said, and turned away.
One by one, the terrible little thorns had to be ripped out by main force, and by the time the operation was completed, the patient appeared to be thoroughly cowed. Limping, he picked up his gun, made to thrust it into his belt, but instead, swung about and presented it full at the broad back of the man who had punished him.
'Freeze--all o' you,' he rasped, and his face was a mask of murder.
'Pull, an' we hang you,' Dan warned.
'This is atween him an' me,' Flint retorted. 'He gits his chance. You can face an' flash yore gun, Green.' He would fire the instant the other was round, before he could draw. That was what he meant to do: what he actually did was gape with wide eyes at the muzzle of a six-shooter, levelled almost alongside his own, and pointed at his heart. The turn and draw had been one movement, executed at lightning speed. Behind the weapon, eyes of arctic coolness bored into his.
'Shoot, an' we'll go to hell together,' said a mocking voice.
That was the position, and Flint knew it. If the thumb holding back the hammer--Sudden had no use for triggers--was released, even in the act of dying, he too was doomed. It was the acid test. One crook of his own finger, and . . . Those watching saw his hand sink slowly; the price of vengeance was too high.
'I can wait,' he muttered thickly, and bent a malignant look upon his employer.
'I'm quittin',' he snarled.
'I fired you fifteen minutes ago,' the rancher replied. Flint's face took on a savage sneer. 'Well, that suits me fine. Who wants to b'long to a pussy-cat outfit anyway? He slouched towards his horse and was about to mount when Dan spoke again, brazen-voiced:
'That bronc bears my brand. When my father picked you out o' the dirt, you'd spent the last dime o' what yore saddle fetched.'
The ruffian whirled on him. 'You sendin' me off afoot?'
'You leave as you came,' the young man retorted. 'I don't even lend horses to folk who misuse 'em.'
'I'll make you sweat blood for this, Dover,' was the fellow's parting threat, as he set out on the long tramp to town.
'I reckon I've lost you a hand, Dan,' Sudden said.
'Take it you've done me a service,' was the reply. 'We can do without vermin around here.'
Chapter V
Flint's departure was the signal for the outfit to get busy, and Yorky began to sidle towards the house. But Sudden was watching.
'Ain't yu ridin' with me?' he asked.
'Aw, Jim, I don't feel so good this mornin',' the boy said. 'Can't we put off th' outin' fer a spell?'
The puncher saw the apprehensive glance at the pony, now standing head down, limp and dejected. He smiled as he replied: It's now or never, son. This is yore best chance. I doubt if even another dose o' cactus medicine would rouse a kick in that animile. Up with yu.'
With obvious reluctance, Yorky climbed clumsily to the saddle; Sudden adjusted the heavy wooden stirrups so that the rider was almost standing in them, and gave him the reins. Shut-eye swung his head round, discovered that this new burden did not hurt, and again relapsed into apathy. The rest of the cowboys cheered and proffered advice.
'If you wanta git off quick, Yorky, don't slide over his tail or he'll h'ist you into kingdom come,' was Blister's contribution.
'Keep him awake,' Tiny urged. 'He snores awful.'
'Talks in his sleep too,' added another. 'He's wuss'n Noisy for chatterin'.'
The boy patted the neck of his now docile mount. 'He can't answer,' he grinned. 'He dunno how ter bray.'
Amid the laughter the retort evoked, Sudden stepped into his saddle and the incongruous couple set out, the boy bumping awkwardly up and down.
'Hold the reins short, an' shove yore feet well into the stirrups to take yore weight--yu don't need to ride like a sack o' meal,' his tutor advised.
Moving at little more than a walk, they covered somc three miles of plain, and reached a patch of pines. Sudden dismounted, trailed his reins, and told the boy to do the same. 'He won't stray then,' he pointed out. 'Reckon this'll be far enough to begin with, time yu get back. But first, yu gotta rest.'
Lying on the soft, springy bed of pine-needles, Yorky gagged and choked as he drew in the odourful air. 'Hell, this'll kill me,' he gasped.
'No, cure yu,' the puncher assured. 'A dose o' this every day'll heal them lungs o' yores, but it's strong medicine, an' you have to get accustomed; it's the breath o' the pines.'
'I ain't no sucker--trees don't breath.'
'Every livin' thing breathes, trees an' plants too, an' when they're crowded, the weaker ones pass out for want of air,' Sudden explained.
He rolled himself a cigarette and held out the 'makings.' Yorky's eyes gleamed, but he shook his head.
'I'm layin' off smokin' fer a bit,' he said.
'Good notion,' Sudden agreed. 'Give the clean air a chance.' He pondered for a mement. 'Did Flint have anythin' against yu?'
'He was sore 'cause I cleaned him at poker. Say, you sports don't know nuttin' 'bout cyards. I was playin' th' game fer real money when I was a kid, an' I c'n make 'em talk.'
'Was that all?'
The boy hesitated. 'Yep,' he replied.
The puncher knew it was a lie, but he was of those patient people who can wait. He pinched out his cigarette and got up. 'I have to be movin',' he said. 'Stick around here for a while--no sense in gettin' saddle-sore.'
With envious eyes Yorky watched the fine black lope away and vanish into the depths of a deep arroyo. 'He's a reg'lar guy,' he muttered. 'Mebbe I'd oughter told him.'
Sudden's mind too was upon his late companion, this pitiful product from the stews of a great city, pitchforked by circumstance into surroundings utterly at variance with all he had known, and where his handicap of ill-health told most heavily.
'Some folks is born to trouble, Nig,' he mused. 'Others, like you an' me, go huntin' it. An' we've shorely found some, spelt with a big T, if I'm any judge, an' I oughta be.' A saturnine smile broke the line of his lips as he recalled the events of the last forty-eight hours, and he lifted his shoulders. 'Fate deals the cards, an' a fella has to play 'em, win or lose.'
Emerging from the arroyo, he crossed a stretch of plain and came to a double row of willows between which a clear stream moved unhurriedly. This must be the source of the dispute. It seemed a peaceful thing to war over, but the puncher was well aware of the value of water to a cattleman. Half a mile away on the other side, the land rose abruptly in a ragged ridge of rock running parallel with the creek. Groups of cows were grazing there; he was about to go over and investigate the brands when Dover rode up.
'Lost Yorky?' he asked.
'No, left him bedded down among the pines,' Sudden smiled.
