that his duties did not take him to the Double S.
'Wonder who told her 'bout the Red Ace?' he muttered. 'Durn it, I'll not go there so much, though I gotta to-night--it's the likeliest spot to find that fella.'
Having thus, with the easy casuistry of youth, justified himself, he shook a little life into the heels of his horse and hurried to the place he had determined to avoid.
* * *
The dusk was creeping in from mountain and desert and Lawless was waking up for the evening's festivities. From the south-west trail came the muffled thunder of pounding hoofs as a party of four cowboys dashed into the street, riding and yelling like madmen. The light in the marshal's office arrested their attention at once and they pulled their ponies to a stop, squattering the dust in every direction.
'Merciful Moses, they got a new marshal!' cried one. 'Smoke him up, boys.'
With the words he snatched out his six-shooter and sent a hail of bullets into the signboard over the officer's door. His companions followed his example, and having thus evidenced their contempt for the law, and 'run a blazer' on its representative, they emitted a derisive shout and rode on to the Red Ace. Inside the office the marshal and his deputy were straightening up. They heard the tattoo of the bullets, and from the side of the window Green watched the riders. Pete's face plainly disapproved of his superior's inactivity.
'Ain't yu goin' to expostulate none with them playful people?' he asked.
Green grinned at him quizzically. 'Shucks, they're on'y boys from the Box B,' he said. There had been just light enough for him to read the brand on the flank of the nearest pony. 'Wasn't yu ever young an' wishful to let off steam on a night out?'
'Awright, gran'pop, but they're countin' it a score agin yu,' retorted the little man.
'Betcha five dollars they apologize 'fore the night's out,' the marshal offered. 'An' anyway, that sign needs repaintin'.'
Pete took the bet, not that he felt sure of winning it--for he was beginning to realize that this new friend of his was an uncommon person--but because he was a born gambler, and curious. As to what the condition of the sign had to do with it, he could form no conjecture.
Their entry, a little later, into the bar of the Red Ace aroused small interest in the crowded room. Here and there a card-player looked up, muttered something in an undertone, and went on playing.
The Box B boys, seated at a table near the bar with a bottle between them, took no notice until a whisper reached their ears that it was the new marshal who had come in. Then heads went together, and presently one of them, a merry-looking youth whose red hair and profusely-freckled face had earned him the name of 'Rusty,' rose amid the laughter of the other three.
Green was alone, leaning against the bar, his deputy being a few yards away, watching the play at a poker- table. The Box B rider lurched up, planted himself so that he faced his quarry, and, with a wink at his companions, opened the conversation.
'Is it true yo're the new marshal?' he asked.
'It's a solemn fact, seh,' Green replied gravely.
The young man teetered on his heels, eyeing the officer truculently. Had he been a little less under the influence of liquor he would have recognized that this quiet, lazy-looking man was not one to take liberties with.
'Me an' my friends don't like marshals nohow--can't see any need for 'em,' he pursued. 'But if we gotta have one 'simportant to make shore he's good, yu unnerstan'? I've made a li'l wager I c'n beat yu to the draw.' He suddenly crouched, his right hand hovering over his weapon. 'Flash it!' he cried.
Hardly had the words left his lips when a gun-barrel jolted him rudely in the stomach, while his hand, clawing at his holster, found it empty. Looking down, he saw that the marshal's weapons were still in his belt and that the gun now threatening his internal economy was his own. Instantly the drink died out as he realized that the man he had dared possessed every right to blow him into eternity. His companions started up in alarm.
'Don't shoot, marshal, he was on'y joshin',' one of them called out.
'Do yu still think yu can beat me to it?' the marshal asked, and without waiting for a reply slipped the borrowed pistol back into its place. 'If yu do, well, have another try.'
There was a sardonic smile on his lips, but his eyes were friendly, and the beaten man was now sober enough to see it. He achieved a difficult grin.
'Not any more for me, thank yu all the same,' he said. 'I ain't a hawg, an' I wanta say I'm sorry we shot up yore shingle this evenin'.'
Green's eyes twinkled. 'Shucks! a coat o' paint'll put that right,' he said meaningly.
Rusty looked at his friends. 'We shore owe him that,' he suggested. 'I'm stayin' in town to-night, boys, an' it's up to me.'
After a round of drinks the Box B party returned to its game, and Green found his deputy beside him. Pete's wide grin moved the marshal to mirth.
'If it warn't for yore ears that smile would go clean round yore haid,' he commented.
Barsay ignored the insult and produced a five-dollar bill. 'Which yu shore earned it, yu ol' he-wizard,' he said. 'How d'yu work it?'
'All done by kindness,' Green told him. 'Hello! who's wantin' me now?'
Andy, who had just entered the saloon, was heading straight for the marshal. He plunged at once into his business.
'I'm Bordene o' the Box B, an' I'm supposin' you're the man Miss Sarel spoke to this afternoon,' he began, and when Green nodded; 'If yo're still huntin' that job--'
'I'm obliged to her, an' yu, but--' the marshal flipped aside his vest, disclosing his badge.
The young man's eyebrows rose. 'Yo're the new marshal?' he asked, and then he smiled. 'Congratulations,' he added.
'Thank yu, seh,' Green smiled back. 'Yo're the first; the others just asked which was my favourite flower.'
'Well, Lawless certainly takes a whole man to ride her, but I wish yu luck, an' if yu want help, yu'll find it at the Box B,' Andy replied.
The marshal thanked him, and meant it; Bordene might have all the recklessness and inexperience of youth, but the stuff of which good men are made was there also. The Box B boys greeted their young boss with a familiarity that showed he was one of them.
'Say, Andy, don't yu get to presumin' any with that marshal fella; he's a friend of ours, an' bad medicine to fool with. Yo're liable to lose out: ask Rusty,' said one.
'This fella's white,' the culprit confessed. 'I sized him up all wrong. I'm stayin' in town to-night.'
The young rancher nodded, and then, hearing his name called, turned to find Seth Raven, with a stranger. The latter had ridden into town during the afternoon and had at once proceeded to the Red Ace. Raven, seated in his office, did not welcome the visitor too effusively.
' 'Lo, Parson, what yu wantin'?' he asked.
'A stake, Seth,' the man in shabby black replied. 'That damned hold-up skunk cleaned me out. But I'll get him, curse his thievin' hide, if I spend the rest o' my life at it.'
He snarled the words out savagely, and his little eyes gleamed with hatred. The saloon-keeper's thin lips curled contemptuously as he replied, 'Better forget it, Parson; yu'd stand one hell of a chance against Sudden, wouldn't yu?'
'I'll get him,' the other repeated doggedly: 'But to do that I gotta live. What about it?'
'Oh, I'll stake yu,' Raven returned carelessly, as he took a wad of bills out of a drawer, counted, and passed them over. 'I'm givin' yu a word o' warnin'; Lawless has got its growth an' won't stand for any raw stuff, see? Also, what I say goes around here, an' I won't stand for it neither.'
The gambler sensed the covert threat in both words and tone. He knew that by accepting the money he had made himself the creature of this hunched-up, malignant devil, but he did not care; he was not a squeamish person.
'Anythin' yu want to tell me?' was how he asked for orders.
'Why, no,' Seth replied with affected surprise. 'There's a young fella I'll introduce yu to who fancies his brand o' poker; it wouldn't do him no harm to be educated some, but you'll remember he's a friend o' mine.'
