easy play to make.'
`I ain't reckonin', I know it's so,' the puncher said, `but I'm not advertisin' it.'
`Shore,' agreed Leeming. `Anythin' else yu can tell us?'
The other shook his head. `Can't prove nothin',' he said. `Soon as I've got the goods I'll put my cards on the table. All I'm shore of at present is that it ain't just a small gang liftin' a few cows now an' then; they are organised, and there's a big man somewhere pullin' the strings.'
`What makes yu think that?' asked Simon.
`Just one or two things I happened to overhear,' was the reply. `Yu shore o' yore outfit?'
The question was addressed to the owner of the Frying Pan, and he was quick to answer it. `I'll go bail for every one,' he said confidently. `Are yu suggestin'?'
`I'm only askin',' replied Green. `I don't know any of 'em, an' even in the best o' ropes there may be a weak strand. What's yore opinion o' Dexter, of the Double X?'
`Don't like him--dunno why, but I don't,' was the blunt reply. `Yu got anythin' on him?'
`No,' Green had to confess, `but it was some of his men hung me over the cliff--yu heard o' that--joke, I reckon?'
`Shore, an' o' the one yu played on Snub in return,' laughed Leeming. `Silas told me he never saw a man imitate a chunk o' rock as well as Snub did while yu was shavin' his upper lip for him.'
`He did stand awful still, for a fact,' responded the puncher, a twinkle of devilment in his eyes at the memory. `Two more o' that outfit bush-whacked Lunt.'
This was news to the Frying Pan owner. `The hell they did?' he said. `They musta felt pretty shore o' gettin' him; Snap's hands are jest about a shade quicker'n my temper, an' I can't say more than that. What are they after him for?'
`I dunno, but it looks like some of us ain't wanted around here,' Green replied. `Me, I'm aimin' to stay, just the same.' When he had gone, Simon turned to his visitor and said, `How does he strike yu?'
`Well, I'd sooner have him with than against me,' was Job's verdict. `Know anythin' about him?'
`Not a darn thing,' said Simon. `Barton fetched him along after he'd beat up Poker Pete most to death. Said he was huntin' a job. He certainly is wise to his work, but I can't place him. Blaynes thinks he might be in with the rustlers.'
`Which just means that yore foreman don't like him,' said Leeming shrewdly.
`And who is it that our respected foreman does not approve of?' asked a fresh young voice.
`Hello, Miss Norry,' cried Job heartily, turning round to shake hands with the girl. She had just come in from a ride, and her flushed cheeks, dancing eyes, and trim figure were good to look upon. `Hang me if yu don't get prettier every time 1 see yu. When are yu comin' to take charge at the Frying Pan, eh?'
It was an old joke between them. Leeming, a confirmed bachelor, always protested that he was so solely on account of Noreen.
`Not until I'm no longer wanted at the Y Z,' she laughed and added saucily, `I should be afraid of your dreadful temper.' `I've lost it, Norry,' Leeming said.
`What, again?' retorted the girl merrily, and then, `But you haven't answered my question.'
`We were talkin' o' the new hand, Green,' Job explained. `What's yore opinion of him?'
`Since he came to my help when I was in danger, I am naturally prejudiced,' the girl replied soberly. `I think he's a good man. And now, if you two have done talking secrets, I expect supper is about ready. As Cookie says down at the bunkhouse, 'Come an' git it.''
Chapter X
VISITORS to Hatchett's Folly were rare and therefore mostly welcome; visitors with plenty of money to spend were rarer still and correspondingly more welcome. So that when Mr. Joe Tarman and his friend and companion, Mr. Seth Laban, rode in, they had no cause to complain of their reception. The first-named, in fact, would have been well received anywhere, for he bore every appearance of prosperity, and he radiated with generosity, thus capturing every loafer in the town at a blow.
He was a big fellow, standing over six feet, with a broad, well-muscled frame denoting strength above the average even for men of his height, and he was still on the right side of forty. His hair, eyebrows, and carefully- trimmed beard were deep black and gave him a striking appearance. A captious critic might have suggested that the face was too fleshy and the rather small eyes too close together, but ninety-nine women out of every hundred would have voted Joe Tarman a very handsome man.
In this he differed entirely from his companion; Seth Laban could have no such pretensions. He was a slight man of between forty and fifty, with a pronounced stoop which made him appear shorter than he really was. He had a long nose, receding forehead and chin, and small eyes, a combination which produced a rodent-like impression. Believers in the Buddhist theory of the transmigration of souls have said that his previous existence must have been that of a rat, while others, of a less charitable nature, might have held that he was still a rat, and would not have been too wide of the mark at that.
This curiously assorted couple, having installed themselves at the hotel, at once gravitated to the Folly, followed by a number of the inhabitants..Tarman, having introduced himself and his companion no the bartender, at once struck the right note by ordering drinks for nhe crowd. He made no secret of his object in coming to Hatchett's.
`Stayin' long?' asked Silas.
`All depends,' said the big man. `I'm just havin' a look around. Heard this was good cattle country, an' came along. Cows is where T live; I've handled a few in my time, eh, Seth?'
`I reckon,' replied Laban, following the words with the disruption of his features which did duty with him as a smile. `It's good cattle-land all right, but pretty well covered,' returned Silas. `I ain't heard as any o' the owners want to sell.' `They'd better sell while the sellin's good; they won't have nothin' left soon,' sniggered one of the crowd.
`How comes that?' asked the visitor.
`Rustlers,' was the laconic answer.
Tarman laughed. `I've handled a lot o' rustlers in my time too, eh, Seth?'
`I reckon,' came the reply, with the same parody of smile.
`I've got a shore cure for rustlin',' the big man went on. `Yes, gents, a shore cure--never known it to fail; a rope an' a branch --that's a combination that'll bean Mr Rustler every time.'
`Yu gotta catch 'em first,' said the man who had spoken before. `Injuns is tricky, an' so is the blame country round here.' `I got no use for Injuns, not noways,' chimed in another. `Well, I wouldn't go so far as that,' smiled Tarman. `There's been times when I've found 'em useful, eh, Seth?'
`I reckon,' came the inevitable reply.
The discussion became general but Tarman now took little part in it; he was looking through the open door of the saloon, intent on something taking place on the far side of the dusty street. He saw a girl sitting her pony easily, cowboy fashion, that is, almost standing in the stirrups. In her neat shirt-waist, divided skirt, trim high boots, and soft sombrero looped up at one side she was, in Western idiom, `easy to look at.' She was talking to a tall cowboy who stood beside her, hat in hand, with the reins of his mount--a magnificent roan--looped over his arm. Already Tarman had decided that he wanted both the girl and the horse.
`Who's the lady?' he asked of Silas, nodding his head towards the street.
Norry Petter, daughter of Old Simon of the Y Z,' replied the barman. `Feller she's talkin' to is one o' the outfit--name o' Green--ain't been about here long.'
The big man's features betrayed no particular interest in the information. `She's a good-looker,' he said. But his eyes could not keep away from the door-opening.
Meanwhile the pair outside continued their conversation, quite unconscious of the interest being taken in them. Noreen had not known that the puncher was in town until she saw him standing by the roan opposite the saloon. For a moment she contemplated riding past winh just a nod of recognition, and then, with a little frown of determination, she reined in and smiled a greeting. Green, who had not failed to note the hesitation, removed his hat and grinned quizzically.
`Why didn't yu?' he asked.
`Why didn't I what?' she parried, though she knew what he meant.
