'He's done a deal for me.'
'An' you say he admitted the killin'?'
'yeah, but he claims it was an accident.'
'He didn't deny bein' this outlaw--Sudden?'
'No, but I'll bet there's an explanation for that too,' the little man said stoutly. 'I'd stake my life on Jim bein' straight.' The scamper of galloping ponies cut short the conversation, and Reddy, with four others, raced in and pulled up, sending the dust and gravel flying.
'What's doin', Boss?' the carroty one inquired, and noticing the visitor, ' 'Lo, Sloppy, how's the marshal?'
'Still alive--I'm hopin'.' Reddy's eyebrows lifted. 'How come?' he asked.
'No time for chatter,' his employer cut in. 'You'll need fresh hosses, an' bring yore rifles. We're for town--you can feed there.'
'Shore, at the Widow's--that's worth ridin' twenty-five mile for any day,' Reddy cried, and swinging his mount round, darted for the corral.
But precious time was lost waiting for more of the men to put in an appearance, and when at length a start was made, Sloppy was in a fever of impatience; he knew that the Sark contingent must have reached Welcome before he arrived at the Bar O. If Nippert could hold them off ... He glanced hopefully at these riders he had come to fetch, familiar, all of them, yet he seemed to be seeing them from a new angle. Instead of a band of reckless young devils, who played as they worked--hard, and were ready for any prank when they came to town, he saw men with set faces which told that their task would be done--at any cost.
Sloppy's fears were only too well-founded; little more than two hours after he had left Welcome, Sark and his outfit rode in, and instead of pulling up, as usual, at the Red Light, went on to Dirty Dick's. Here their leader left them, and repaired to Jake's abode.
'Howdy, Sark, this is Mister Javert, from Pinetown; Dutch will have told you 'bout him,' Mullins greeted.
The rancher acknowledged the introduction with a curt nod, sat down, and poured himself a drink, his gaze on the swollen, battered features of his host.
'That fella can certainly use his fists,' he remarked. 'If I'd met you anywhere else I wouldn't 'a' knowed you.'
'He had all the breaks, an' at that I damn' near got him,' Jake retorted savagely. 'This afternoon I'm goin' to--' Dutch burst unceremoniously into the room. 'I got news,' he cried. 'Ned disarmed the marshal when he locked him up, an' took his belt into the Red Light.'
'How very thoughtless of him--might just as well have signed his death-warrant,' Sark murmured.
'You said it,' Jake gritted. 'What's yore strength, Sark?'
'Twelve, besides myself.'
'Thirteen is an unlucky number,' commented Javert, who had all a gambler's superstition.
'It will be--for the marshal,' was the sinister answer. 'Let's move.' Dirty Dick's was a human beehive, and the motley crowd, reinforced by the Dumb-bell riders, fed Sark's vanity with a cheer. From his saddle, the rancher addressed them :
'Well, friends, I'm told you want me to argue with Nippert.'
'Argue nawthin',' came a harsh voice. 'We aim to take an' string that gunman. Ain't that so, fellas?' Affirmative yells answered the question, and S ark, with a lift of his shoulders as one giving in to the popular desire, led the way down the street. His cowboys closed in behind him, and the mob followed.
Outside the calaboose, the saloon-keeper, with less than a dozen men, stood on guard. He had witnessed the arrival of the Dumb-bell party, heard the riotous clamour at Dirty Dick's, and knew that an attempt would be made to deprive him of the prisoner.
'Pity you took away Jim's guns,' Gowdy said. 'If it comes to a battle, he'd be useful.'
'I've got his belt on under my coat,' Nippert replied. 'If things git that far, I'll agree to fetch Jim out an' slip it to him. Here they come.' Sark and his outfit, rifles across their knees, had pulled up about ten paces away, and the others spread out in a half-circle behind them, glaring with avid eyes at the prison which held their prey. A menacing silence prevailed until Nippert spoke:
'Well, S ark, what's yore errand?'
'We want the criminal yo're plannin' to set free.'
'That's not true. I'm handin' the marshal over to Pine-town; it's their job to deal with him.'
'We ain't trustin' you. Fetch him out, or take the consequences.' The saloon-keeper looked at the row of threatening rifles, one volley from which might well wipe out himself and his friends. It would be hopeless. He glanced up the street, but there was no sign of the Bar O. He must make a last desperate bid for time.
'You win, Sark,' he said. 'I'll git him.'
'No,' Jake snapped. 'Throw me the key.'
'I'll see you in hell first.'
'Then you'll be waitin' for me,' the other jeered, and drew his gun. 'Out with it, or . ..' The big man was still hesitating when a voice from inside the calaboose said calmly, 'Better let him have it, or-timer; no sense in a ruckus which can on'y end one way.' With a curse of disgust, Nippert flung the key on the ground. 'An' that's the man you claim is a bloodthirsty murderer,' he cried passionately.
'That kind o' talk won't buy you anythin',' Jake retorted.
He unlocked the door and stood back, revolver in hand. A moment of silence and the prisoner stepped out into the sunlight to be welcomed by a storm of execration. He heard it with contemptuous indifference; if he had his guns . . .
'Git agoin',' Jake ordered.
The marshal looked at the men who had tried to save him. 'I'm thankin' yu,' he said, and head up, staring stolidly before him, moved forward.
Some of these men had praised him when he thrashed Mullins; they would condemn him with the same enthusiasm when he dangled lifeless from a tree. Once he turned his head and saw that his few friends were tramping along with the others. He spoke his thought:
'They can't do a thing.'
'you bet they can't, 'cept go with you for comp'ny,' a cowboy beside him agreed. 'We got ropes to spare.' Sudden did not reply. The top of a tall cottonwood was now in sight, and the imminence of death was upon him. He knew that to be hauled off the ground and left hanging until the tightening noose checked the breath, must, to a healthy man, mean many minutes of agony. He dismissed the thought with a shrug.
The tree was reached, and the victim thrust under a stout outflung branch over which the man who had jeered at him on the journey proceeded to throw one end of his lariat. He then adjusted the loop and stood back, surveying his work. 'All set,' he announced.
At these words the spectators closed in, eager to feed their animal appetite with every detail of the drama.
To the condemned man it all seemed unreal. Above his head, birds were chirping, and the sunlight, filtering through the foliage, threw dancing shadows on the ground. The world appeared, in truth, a fair place, and he was about to leave it--shamefully. Then into his consciousness came something very real indeed--Javert's poisonous features, alight with triumph, within a foot of his own.
'So, Mister Sudden, our game is finished, an' I take the pot,' he hissed. 'I promised myself to get you an' that coyote cub, Masters ' He got no further, having--in his eagerness to vent his spleen--overlooked the fact that the man he taunted was unbound. With all the fury of one who has nothing to lose, Sudden's right fist came up and smashed into the leering face like a battering-ram, and Javert went down as though he had encountered a cyclone. Mouthing mad blasphemies, he scrambled to his feet and clawed at his gun, but Jake clutched his wrist.
'Don't be a fool ! ' he cried. 'Can't you wait a few minutes? That's what he was playin' for--an easy death.' The stricken man spat out a tooth and wiped the blood from his gashed lips. 'I'll make it easy for him,' he snarled. 'Listen, you with the rope : when he's half-choked, lower him to the ground again so's he can fill his lungs, an' keep on doin' it; he shall die ten times for that blow.' This diabolical suggestion brought an angry protest from the saloon-keeper, and some of the more sober in the crowd supported him.
