'I expect yu didn't look careful,' was all the sympathy he got.
Reaching the place, they dismounted and crept through the thick brush which fringed the edges of the gully. There was no sign of life, save birds.
'We're outa luck,' he said. 'Let's try further along.' They pushed their way to another position some fifty yards distant, and were duly rewarded; in an open patch below stood a group of saddled ponies, two of which carried packs. Then, from behind a dark mass of undergrowth, men appeared, eight of them, mounted and set out.
'Why, there's Jake,' Reddy whispered excitedly.
'Shore it is, an' we gotta follow. Fetch the hosses.' For about a mile they kept pace with the riders, of whom they got only occasional glimpses. This brought them to a spot where the walls of the gully flattened out a little as it mounted towards the level of the surrounding country, and here was a grassy hollow, hedged in by thorn bushes, with a pool of water at one side. The entrance to this was closed with a crude gate of trimmed sapling trunks; inside the corral a score of cattle grazed peacefully.
'What we goin' to do?' Reddy asked, as they watched Mullins and his men ride up, and two of them jump down to remove the barrier.
'Scare 'em off,' Sudden replied. 'When yu've fired, break ground quick an' let 'em have another, pronto; they'll figure there's a lot of us.' One after the other, they pulled trigger, and without waiting to see the result, ran a few yards right and left to repeat the process. The unexpected attack from unseen assailants caused something approaching a panic among the rustlers. The pair on foot dropped the pole they were lifting and jumped for their mounts; one of the riders cursed and grabbed his left arm; another reeled, but kept his seat in the saddle; a pack- animal squealed and kicked, dragging on its lead-rope. The fusillade from above continued and some of those below made an attempt to retaliate, firing at the smoke, but their leader soon saw the hopelessness of their position; they were just targets.
'It's no use, boys,' he shouted. 'Leave the cows an' git goin'.' He set the example by spurring his horse for the mouth of the gully, and the rest followed. The marshal watched them.
'They're headin' north--for the hills,' he said.
'One ain't,' Reddy corrected, as a rider separated from the others and turned west. 'Now what's that mean?'
'At a guess, I'd say Jake is visitin' the Dumb-bell.' They rode to the end of the gully, and turning in, arrived at the corral. The remains of a fire, a straight iron lying beside it, betrayed the purpose to which the place had been put. The steers were Bar O three-year-olds, and on four of them the brand had been clumsily changed to the Dumbbell. Reddy snorted with disgust.
'Shore looks like yo're right about Sark,' he said. 'Jake ain't the sort to be makin' presents.' Having rounded up the cattle, they commenced the task of driving them to the Bar O.
When, in due course, they drew rein at the ranch-house, Owen himself welcomed them with a whoop, inspected the recovered stock, frowned at the altered brands, and then dragged the two men indoors, eager to hear all about it. When Sudden told of the tunnel behind the Silver Mane, the eyes of both his listeners went wide.
'I warn't smart enough to remember that others might be usin' the tunnel,' the marshal said ruefully, and related his capture and escape. 'Then I met Reddy, an' the rest was easy,' he finished.
'You done noble,' Owen said warmly. 'Wonder where they've gone?'
'They'll leave a trail.'
'Not in the hill country they won't,' the foreman stated.
The marshal's eyes twinkled. 'One o' them pack-hosses had a sack o' meal across its rump,' he said. 'I put a bullet into it.' The cattleman slapped his knee. 'you think of every-thin', you durned ol'--methodis',' he grinned.
Chapter XIII
WELCOME lay sweltering in the midday sun. The marshal, his deputy, and factotum, draped over the only three chairs in the office, were smoking and sweating in silent discomfort.
'It's a nice day to go for a ride,' Sudden remarked, after a while.
'It's a nicer day not to,' Dave contradicted.
'Sloppy, wasn't yu around when Amos Sark was bumped?' Sudden went on.
The little man, who had been half-asleep, became swiftly awake. His expression was one almost of alarm, but he answered without hesitation.
'Yeah, I was livin' at Drywash.'
'yu know where it happened?'
'The fella what--found him, pointed it out to me.'
'I'd like to see it.'
'Why, it took place over a year ago; what yu expect to find?'
'Oh, I'm curious.'
'Curious is puttin' it mild--yo're a freak,' Dave rejoined. They passed a side trail which would have taken them to the Dumb-bell ranch, and about a mile further on, Sloppy halted. 'Here she is,' he said.
In the bright sunlight it was difficult to conceive that there a man could be foully done to death, and yet the spot possessed the one necessary adjunct. The road, deep-rutted, was open, save for scattered trees, but on one side a solitary cluster of low bushes offered safe cover for a lurking assassin. Ten yards away was a young birch, and to this Sloppy pointed.
'Amos was lyin' there, on his face, arms spread; they figured he'd went over the hoss's head,' he informed. 'His money was missin'.'
'So it might 'a' been robbery?'
'Yeah,' Sloppy agreed, but his tone was not very convincing. 'The track o' the slug showed he was shot from behind.' The marshal dismounted and walked to the bushes. They were close-growing, but at the back was an opening where a man could stand and command a view of *_he road in both directions. With the barrel of a pistol he poked about in the rubble of lead leaves and coarse grass which obscured the roots of the shrubs. Presently he heard the unmistakable clink of metal against metal. The find proved to be a small, brass tobacco-box, dull and discoloured by exposure to the elements. It was empty, but on the lid inside, rudely scratched, were the letters E.K. Returning, he showed it to his companions.
'Remember anyone with those initials?' he asked Sloppy, and got a shake of the head for answer. 'Then it don't help us any.'
'Plenty people use this road,' Dave said. 'One of 'em could 'a' throwed it there.'
'That's so,' Sudden agreed, and slipped the box into a pocket. 'Sloppy, d'yu know much about that law-sharp yu mentioned to me?'
'Slimy? Not enough to hang him--more's the pity.'
'What's he done to yu?'
'Nothin'--I ain't anythin' to lose, so I'm safe from his kind.'
'I'm beginnin' to suspect yu don't like the fella,' Sudden said. 'Amos Sark trusted him.'
' `Used' is a better word,' Sloppy retorted. 'By all accounts, Amos could smell a skunk, two-legged or four.'
'He let him make his will,' the marshal persisted.
'I'm lettin' this hoss carry me, but I ain't trustin' him,' the little man said, with a wry smile.
Nippert examined the brass box and shook his head. 'Funny findin' it where you did, but it don't prove a thing,' he said. 'Yo're a clever guy, Jim, but the shootin' o' Amos Sark is goin' to be one too many for you.'
'Dessay yo're right,' Sudden rejoined. 'I did hope them letters would give me a line. What sort of a burg is Dry-wash?'
'A lot bigger'n Welcome, an' as tough as a rawhide,' was the reply. 'They got a sheriff there--Blick--but Jesse Sark owns him, like he would the marshal here if you hadn't come along. You'll on'y be wastin' yore time there.'
'I guess I'll look the place over,' Sudden said carelessly.
So, in the morning, he set out. Curiosity was the excuse he gave his friends, but the real incentive was the possibility of unearthing information about the murder, in which the discovery of the tobacco-box had stimulated his
