was clawing, King jumped forward, picked him up, shook him till his teeth rattled, and again flung him headlong.
'Now pull that gun an' go to hell,' he snarled, slanting his own weapon on the sprawling form. 'Argue with me, will yu, yu scum?'
Riley, making no effort to reach for his pistol, climbed slowly to an upright posture again. The man-handling had driven the drink out of him.
'Forget it, King,' he said. 'I'm sorry I sassed yu--reckon I must 'a' bin lit up. What yu want me to do?'
'Find yore bronc an' get back to the ranch for now,' Burdette said. 'An' keep yore trap shut, or ...'
He did not voice the threat, nor did he holster his pistol until the man had disappeared in the shadows. Then he returned to the front of the saloon, mounted his horse, and drove the animal mercilessly in the direction of the Circle B. By the time he reached it the poor brute's sides were deeply scored and the rider's spurs dripped blood. In the living-room he found Mart, his big body sprawled in a chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a bottle of whisky beside him. He greeted his elder brother with a grin.
'Back early, huh?' he said, and then the scowl on King's face apprised him that something was wrong. 'What's eatin' yu?'
'How far off was Green when yu fired?'
'Little over a hundred yards, I'd say.'
'An' yu missed ! ' King said contemptuously.
'Missed nothin'! I saw him tumble into the canyon; must 'a' broke his neck anyways.'
'He didn't; yore bullet creased him, an' he fell into the long grass on the rim. He rides into town just as they're goin' to string up Luce, an' that lets him out; yu can't hang a man for murder when the victim is standin' by. I guess the C P outfit an' half o' Windy is laughin' at us right now.'
The big man stared at him. 'It ain't possible; I saw him drop,' he argued.
King's gesture was not complimentary. 'Mart,' he said, 'all the brains yu got would go into a nutshell, an' yu wouldn't have to take the kernel out neither.'
'Well, it warn't my plan,' the other grumbled.
'Nothin' wrong with that, but I thought yu could shoot,' his brother sneered. 'How close do yu have to be?'
The taunt sank in, as the speaker intended it should. Mart's heavy face was flushed, his lips in an ugly pout. 'I'll get him,' he said thickly. 'I'll call him down.'
King's laugh was not pleasant. 'Mebbe Whitey was just unlucky,' he said satirically.
'Not that way,' Mart explained. 'He's too good for me with a six-gun, but with these I...'
He flexed the fingers of his huge hands, clutching the empty air as though he had already the puncher's throat within them, while the biceps in the gorilla-like arms bulged beneath the blue flannel shirt. In brains and dexterity King was the master, but when it came to a question of brute force .....
'That's certainly an idea, but let it ride a spell,' King said. 'Mebbe there's a better trail out.'
'Suits me,' Mart said. 'Yu on'y gotta say the word. Saw that Purdie gal in town s'mornin'. She's sprouted up into a mighty good-looker; I've a mind to...'
The elder man flashed round on him. 'Lay a finger on her an' I'll fill yore fat carcase with lead,' he said fiercely. 'She ain't for yu.'
Mart's eyes opened. 'No call to get het up,' he said mildly. 'Yo're a reg'lar hawg though. What 'bout Lu Lavigne? That dame is liable to put a pill into yu if yu play tricks.'
'I've got a use for Nan Purdie,' King replied.
'Me too,' Mart said coarsely, and laughed.
'Then yu better forget it; I meant what I said. Bein' my brother won't save yu,' King rasped, and went out of the room.
'He'd do it too, damn him,' Mart muttered. 'Well, she's a pretty nice piece, but ... Wonder how in hell I missed that cussed cow-punch?'
THE C P foreman had mounted his horse and was pacing away from the corral when Yago came up.
'Which way yu headin', Jim?' he asked.
'Mind yore own damn business,' Sudden grinned. 'Aimin' to ride herd on me?'
'I ain't, but if yu don't show up, it'd be useful to know where to look,' Bill told him.
'That's so,' the foreman agreed soberly. 'Never can tell in these stirrin' times. I'm pointin' south-west--ain't looked over that part o' the range yet.'
'She's pretty wild--not much good for grazin',' Yago told him. 'Dangerous country, I'd call it.'
Sudden nodded and smiled; he knew his friend was warning him. Passing the ranch-house, he struck off to the right, climbing the lower slope of the mountain. At first he followed a faint trail, but presently left it and headed for a point he had already picked out--a clump of tall pines which rose above the surrounding timber. He noted that the feed was sparse and poor in quality; there were few cattle about. The pines proved to be further away than he had thought, masses of rock from the peak above and thickets of prickly pear making detours inevitable.
When at length he came in sight of it he was surprised to find a habitation. It was a tiny place, tucked in among the trees, and built of unbarked logs. A hole in one corner of the earthed roof served as a chimney, and from this a thin twist of smoke was ascending. From the small pole corral behind the hut a burro brayed, and Sudden's mount responded with a friendly whicker. Instantly a man showed himself in the open doorway, clutching a rifle, and peering suspiciously from beneath the brim of his hat.
'Hold on thar or I'll drill yer. What yer want?' he barked.
The puncher flung up a hand, palm outwards, to signify that his intentions were peaceful, and came steadily on. Evidently the man now recognized him, for he lowered his weapon and gave vent to a throaty chuckle.
'Yu, mister, is it?' he said. 'Yu gotta s'cuse me--my danged eyesight ain't as good as it useter be. Rest yore saddle--I got some coffee boilin'.'
It was the old prospector, California. The visitor got down, trailed his reins, and seated himself on a rude bench outside the shack door. In a few moments his host joined him, bearing two tin mugs of steaming, black beverage.
'I'm out o' milk, but there's more sweetenin' if yu want her,' he apologized.
Sudden sampled the liquid and pronounced it excellent, which brought a satisfied grin to the old man's wrinkled features.
'Guess I c'n make coffee,' he said. 'Oughta be able to --musta made enough to float a fleet in my time.'
'First look I've had at this part of our range,' the foreman remarked. 'Didn't know anyone was livin' up here. What yu got--a quarter-section?'
'No, I ain't a 'nester'--can't be bothered with land nohow,' California explained. 'Why, I'm liable to pull stakes an' drift any time. Purdie gimme leave to run up the shack an' scratch around. It's nice an' quiet up here.'
The visitor smiled; he was listening to an incessant, rumbling roar, like that of heavy seas breaking on a shingly shore, but without the sucking swish of the backwash.
'Thunder?' he queried.
'Aye, li'l old Thunder River,' the miner grinned. 'Fella gits so useter that he don't notice it. Yu oughta hear her when snow flies on Stormy. I've sat for hours watchin' the water rippin', tearin', an' thrashing its way through the Sluice; she must be just lousy with gold.'
'What makes yu think that?' Sudden asked.
'Don't think--I'm dead shore,' California retorted. 'Anyone as knows gold would be. Why, even some of them lunkheads down yonder'--he jerked a derisive thumb in the direction of Windy--'has got their suspicions. Lookee, yu can git `colour' most anywheres on the banks o' the river, an' there's patches of alluvial gold an' small `pockets' on the slopes o' the valley, but it's all surface stuff--go deep, an' yu git nothin' but a hole. Now, where's it come from? Didn't fall out'n the skies, I reckon. No, sir, its bin washed down, an' I figure that at one time mebbe a thousand years ago, before the stream had cut itself a channel to run in--this yer valley was periodically flooded an' the fine gold was deposited then. I ain't no scientist, but that's the way I dope her out.'
