'Sark!' The bully looked up to find Dave Masters only a couple of yards distant, face rigid, eyes of chilled steel, and his gun levelled.
'Stand away. I am goin' to kill yu.' Mary Gray moved to his side. 'Don't shoot, Dave,' she pleaded. 'Send him away--for my sake.' The sound of her voice seemed to bring him to his senses. He shook his head as though to clear it of a mist through which he had been gazing.
'Yo're right, ma'am, he ain't worth the case of a ca'tridge,' he muttered, and gesturing towards the door with his weapon, added, 'March ! ' The cattleman drew a long breath; he knew that only the girl's intervention had saved him, but he was not grateful. But neither was he prepared to take further risks, so he marched. Dave followed, and as the other threw back the door, gripped him by the back of the neck and, with a sudden thrust, sent him sprawling into the street, much to the edification of some passers-by who witnessed the ignominious exit. When, spitting curses and sand, he scrambled to his feet, he saw his assailant standing on the sidewalk, empty hands hanging down, eyes blazing.
'Thought yu was gittin' off easy, huh?' the cowboy gibed. 'Pull yore gun, yu mongrel, an' go to the hell that's waitin' for yu.' But Sark was in no mood to accept the invitation. Though the drink had died out, he was badly shaken. He contented himself with a threat:
'Yore account is pilin' up, fella, but don't you fret none --it'll be settled.'
'Git some o' yore cattle-thieves to help you,' Dave advised, and saw the furious eyes flicker.
He watched the man hoist himself into the saddle, grab the quirt hanging from the horn, and lash the beast into a frenzied gallop.
'Takin' it out'n the hoss,' was his thought. 'He would.' He opened the door of the restaurant and peeped in. Its owner was seated at a table, face hidden in her hands.
'I dasn't go in,' he said, unaware that he was speaking aloud, and closing the door gently, walked away, convinced she had not seen him.
But she had, and heard him too, and when she raised her head the wet eyes were shining. 'Oh, Dave, you big, brave--coward,' she murmured with a tremulous smile.
That evening, the marshal strolled into Dirty Dick's, and indifferent to the anything but welcome looks he received, ordered a drink, and scanned the company with apparent carelessness. One couple immediately interested him; seated at a table a little apart from the rest were Dutch and Evans, the banker's assistant. The latter, sucking at a rank cigar, and with a glass of spirit before him, had shown signs of perturbation when the officer entered.
'That's done it,' he muttered. 'He'll tell 01' Bob an' I'll get the air.' Dutch, who was as little pleased at the intrusion, endeavoured to console him. 'Mebbe he won't mention it,' he said. 'An' if he does, I can find you somethin' better to do than pushin' a pen--a man's job, with real money in it.'
'That's mighty nice o' you, Dutch,' was the reply. 'Tied to a desk all day ain't much of a life.'
'Yo're shoutin'--it'd give me the willies in a week,' the other agreed, adding slyly, 'See here, I can tell you how to shut the marshal's mouth, if need be.' He whispered earnestly for a few moments, ceasing only when he became aware that the subject of their conversation had drawn near.
'Evans, I want a word with yu--outside.' The youth hesitated, and then, with a poor attempt at bravado, emptied his glass and followed the officer into the fresh air. Sudden came to the point at once.
'How come yu to be in that sink?'
'You were there yoreself.'
'Don't fence with me, boy,' Sudden said sternly. 'Would Bob Morley approve o' yore frequentin' Dirty Dick's?'
'He don't buy my evenin's.'
'Which is no answer to my question.' The boy fidgeted with his feet, tried to draw inspiration from a cigar which had lost its savour, and furtively let it fall.
'You don't have to tell him, do you?'
'It's my duty,' the marshal said doubtfully.
'Promise not to, an' I'll put you wise to somethin' important,' Evans replied eagerly. 'Is it a deal?'
'I make no bargains in the dark, but I've never been accused o' bein' ungrateful.' The clerk gave in; this man--whom he secretly admired as being all he would have liked to be--was too strong for him.
'There's goin' to be a big raid on the Bar O,' he blurted. 'They figure to burn the buildings, shoot down the outfit, an' drive off the cattle. It's to be to-morrow night.'
'Who is `they'?' the marshal asked, wondering how far his informant's power of invention would carry him_ 'I dunno--the fella who told me '
'Meanin' Dutch.'
'Well, yes, but he ain't in it,' Evans replied. 'He's workin' over to Drywash, an' got to hear accidental. He reckons it's a gang from 'way up in the hills, an' they'll outnumber the Bar O unless Welcome lends a hand.'
'Why didn't he come to me?'
'He was meanin' to, but when you come in, he thought '
'Yu could buy my silence, huh? Well, it's a fine story; I didn't guess Dutch had that much imagination. However, I'm sayin' nothin' to yore employer, on one condition, that yu keep clear o' that dive from now on; mixin' with Dutch an' his like will on'y land yu in the penitentiary--or worse.'
'I'll promise,' Evans replied. 'But marshal, I ain't lyin' about what Dutch told me, an' I'm certain he meant it. He said he hadn't no quarrel with the Bar O, an' didn't want to see strangers put one over on 'em.' Sudden returned to his quarters in a thoughtful frame of mind. The boy's parting words had been spoken earnestly, but he could not conceive a member of Jake's ruffianly crew being anxious to prevent disaster befalling Owen's ranch, even though the blow was to come from outsiders. Had the fellow fallen out with his friends and turned traitor? That was possible, but unlikely, since Dutch appeared to have nothing to gain. Or was it, after all, a mere fabrication, concocted by Evans, under the spur of necessity?
'Damn it, anyway yu look, it don't make sense,' was the conclusion of his meditations.
Chapter X
SUDDEN, rising with his problem still unsolved, took Dave and Sloppy into his confidence over the morning meal. The pair looked at him in puzzled bewilderment.
'What's yore trouble?' the younger man asked. 'There ain't but one thing we can do : take a dozen o' the boys to the Bar O an' give them cattle-thieves a real big surprise. Ain't that yore notion too, Sloppy?'
'Shore looks thataway,' the little man agreed. 'But ...' He paused, his speculative gaze on the marshal.
'That's the snag--but,' Sudden said. 'Every way I figure, I run up against it. The obvious move ain't allus the right one. Dutch don't like me none a-tall; why should he put me wise when he'd ruther I fell down on my job?' His companions could find no answer to this, and he supplied one himself :
'It might be that he just wants to make a fool o' me. Well, I'm stayin' put.'
'Yu won't help the Bar O?' Dave said earnestly. 'Damn it, Jim, we owe them that.'
'I know, but I don't think they'll need us. I'll ride over myself an' warn 'em to be on the look-out. It ain't no use arguin', boy; I've got a hunch an' I'm playin' it, right or wrong.' Masters shook his head, unconvinced, but Sloppy appeared to be satisfied--the marshal's word was his law. Together they walked up the street.
'I don't like it,' Dave remarked. 'It'll seem we've run out on Owen.'
'Jim's got savvy,' was all the consolation he received. They found the Widow busy and cheerful. She thanked the deputy very prettily, and excused her cousin.
'He had been drinking,' she said. 'Men are not responsible then.'
'It's mighty hard to figure him a close relation o' yores,' Dave remarked.
'He's scarcely that,' she corrected, and with a smile, 'but he was certainly too close yesterday.' The allusion brought a swift frown to the cowboy's face. 'If he pesters yu again there's liable to be a bereavement in yore family,' he told her.
Meanwhile, the marshal was on his way to the Bar O. He found the owner just about to set out.
'Step inside,' he invited. 'I guess you didn't come just for the pleasure o' seein' me.'
'Why not?' Sudden smiled. 'Allasame, I've news--of a kind.' Seated in one of the big chairs, he told what he had learned. Owen received the narrative in silence. Only when the marshal came to his own proposed inaction did he speak:
