'What are you doing there, you coward?' he growled. 'Go, make enquiries, find out something, blast you. And send me a boy--one who can ride.'
When the fellow had scuttled out, he sat down and wrote a note, slowly, carefully. The result appeared to satisfy him, for after studying it critically, he nodded.
'That will bring her, and she will bring him,' he reflected aloud. 'With the old man dead, I shall hold all the cards.'
At the Double K ranch-house, Joan had just relinquished her duties in the sick-room, leaving the patient in the capable hands of Mandy, who had hurried to the bedside of her old master as soon as she heard the news.
'Go foh a ride, honey,' the negress said. 'Yo is all tuckered out. We-all suah hab yo on our han's mighty soon, an' 01' Massa tak' de hide off'n mah back when he git well.' So the girl got her horse and had just mounted when the foreman approached. He was not in a happy frame of mind these days; the 'accident' to his employer had jarred him. Recalling Satan's enquiries as to the Colonel's visits to Dugout, he could not credit the current story. On the other hand, he found it just as difficult to believe that a son, however unjustly treated, could deliberately endeavour to slay his father, and coarse-natured as he was, the possibility sickened him. If Jeff had indeed sunk to that level ... The unfinished thought prompted him to give the girl a warning.
'Shouldn't go far, Miss Joan. Queer things is happenin' an' the country is a heap unsettled.'
'Thank you, Steve,' she smiled. 'I'll be careful.'
His gaze followed her as she shot away, trim figure swaying easily with the movement of the beast beneath her, a picture to take and hold the eye of any horseman.
'Hell, that boy must 'a' bin loco,' was his comment.
It was only after she had ridden a mile or more that Joan awoke to the fact that she was travelling in the direction of the Glue-pot.
'Sugar, you must be a mind-reader,' she told her mount laughingly. 'It's a good thing you haven't the gift of speech, too, or you might betray secrets.'
She pulled up as she saw a rider approaching, a mere lad of eleven or twelve, astride the back of an unkempt, shaggy pony. He stopped when he reached her and dragged off his wreck of a hat. He was not prepossessing, his thin features having a crafty expression out of keeping with his age. 'I reckon yo're Miss Joan Keith,' he said.
'Your reckoning is correct,' she smiled. 'And where do you come from?'
'Way over,' he replied, jerking a thumb to the northward, and she knew that was all she would learn. 'I got a letter for you --a stranger asked me to fetch it; said for me to give it to yoreself.'
He dived into the pocket of his ragged overalls. Joan took the envelope and one glance at the superscription quickened the beating of her heart. But she would not open it yet.
'What was he like, this stranger?'
'Dressed like a cow-wrastler, with blue eyes an' a mark on his chin,' the boy replied. 'He gimme four bits.' The girl's face was flushed, her eyes sparkling. She had been sure before--the writing had told her, but she could not resist the desire to prolong her pleasure. 'So if I give you another four you will have a whole dollar,' she said.
'Betcha life,' he agreed, and putting the coins carefully away, banged his heels against the ribs of his steed and scampered off. Only then did she open the envelope.
DEAR JOAN, I shall be at the mouth of Coyote Canyon about three today. I must see you. Don't fail me.
YOUR JEFF.
Not very romantic, perhaps, but what young girl ever criticized her first love-letter? She read it three times, tucked it into the pocket of her shirt-waist, and turned towards the rendezvous.
'Joan Keith, you are an idiot,' she assured herself withmock severity. 'Sugar's hoof-beats are not saying `Your Jeff.' '
She reached the spot in good time, but it appeared to be deserted. After waiting a little while, it occurred to her that she might be seen by one of the Double K riders, and not wishing this, she rode a short way up the ravine, where the undergrowth would screen her from view. No sooner had she taken up this new position than she became aware of movement and five horsemen burst from the bushes and encircled her. A look sufficed to show that she was in the hands of Satan's infamous 'Imps.' That she had been trapped was not at first clear to her.
'What does this mean?' she asked indignantly.
The leader, whom she now recognized as the brute who had insulted her at Black Sam's, rode forward, a smirk on his disfigured countenance.
'Jeff, the Chief, that is, couldn't come hisself so he sent us to take you to him,' he explained.
The statement almost stunned her. So the treasured letter was no more than a bait to lure her into the clutches of the Boss of Hell City. Furtively she crushed and let it fall; she could not keep such a vile thing. Then the horror of her position swept over her, and, spurring her pony, she made a desperate bid to break through, hoping they would not dare to pursue into the open. But ere she had gone a few feet, two of them grabbed the reins and jerked her horse back on its haunches.
'None o' that,' Scar said savagely. 'Come quiet an' you'll be treated decent; if you don't, I'll hawg-tie you.' The girl gave in; black despair descended upon her. Roden issued an order, they closed round her, and set off along the canyon. The roughness of the trail made speed out of the question, but presently they climbed out of the dismal gorge into the hills. There was a certain fierce grandeun in the peaks and precipices, tree-clad slopes, rocky defiles, and cascading torrents, but Joan--lover of Nature as she was--had no eye for them; fear for the future was all- absorbing.
Her escort took no notice of her, but chatted in low tones among themselves. Once she caught a fragment of the conversation.
'The Chief'll have a couple of 'em now,' one said. 'Yeah, safety in numbers,' chuckled another.
'That rule don't work with women. No, sir,' Scar contributed. At which they all laughed.
They entered Hell City by the western gate, and despite her danger, the girl could not but be interested in the place which the country-side held in awe. In the afternoon sunlight, it appeared innocent enough. At first, seeing so few buildings, she wondered where the inhabitants lived, and then she noticed the tunnelled openings in the rock walls, and understood. The people who stopped and stared as she passed seemed no different from those of any frontier settlement. But a shock awaited her at the whipping-post. Hanging slackly from it by his bound wrists was an oldish man, his bared back raw and bloody, and round him, a dozen or more loungers. Scar asked a question.
'01' Benjy,' he told the others. 'So that was why he warn't on the gate. Well, here we are.'
He got down and turned to help the girl, but she had already dismounted, and obeying his gesture, proceeded along the passage. Silver opened the door, and his brutelike appearance made her recoil. Scar chuckled.
'Go ahead,' he said. 'He won't bite yer.'
She stepped into the room and again paused, this time in astonishment at the bizarre yet costly furnishings. But from these her gaze went almost at once to the owner, devouring her triumphantly through the slits in his mask. He made a too elaborate bow and pushed forward a chair.
'Good of you to come, Joan,' he greeted, and the irony of the remark stung her.
'I had no choice,' she replied hotly. 'That--beastthreatened to hog-tie me.'
'She tried to break away,' the 'beast' said sullenly.
'My fault,' Satan explained. 'I was so eager to see you that I promised to hang the poor fellow if he failed.' He smiled at Roden. 'It appears we had a difference last night, and that you wounded me and I killed you.'
Scar looked at him dubiously. 'I don't get you,' he said. 'I'm feelin' middlin' healthy for a dead man. Who put it around?'
'Sudden, and on the plea that he was going to Red Rock for a doctor, the fool at the gate let him pass, against my express orders.'
'So--that was it?'
'Yes. I don't--think--he'll do it--again,' Satan said slowly. He tossed over some bills. 'Your men will be thirsty.'
Having thus dismissed the man, he turned to the girl. 'Sorry I couldn't meet you myself, Joan, but a little matter prevented me.'
'The thrashing of that unhappy wretch outside?' she asked.
