Another short burst of strenuous endeavour brought him to a patch of stunted pine. Here the ascent was less abrupt and the carpet of pine-needles provided easy going. Gliding swiftly and silently from tree to tree, the puncher went upwards until he was conscious that the incline had almost ceased; he must be nearing the plateau on which the Circle B was built. Then a faint shaft of yellow light shone through the foliage, apprising him that the end of his journey was at hand. For long moments he stood motionless in the deep shadow, peering and listening. A whiff of a familiar odour--burning tobacco--came to him; he was facing the faint breeze, therefore the smoker must be ahead. Dropping down, Sudden crawled slowly forward, feeling every foot of the ground in front before making a movement--the snapping of a tiny twig might mean ruin to his hopes. Presently he could see the fellow, a dim shape, squatting, back against a tree and a rifle across his thighs. His complaining voice reached him:
'Damn this job. What's King scared of, anyways? He's got the C P tied, an' them rabbits in Windy don't have the guts to move.'
There was no reply; evidently the sentinel was relieving his feelings by talking to the air. The intruder smiled forbiddingly and continued his advance. When he was within two yards of the unsuspecting guard he rose to his feet and drew a gun. Two silent strides, a swift downward chop of the steel barrel, and the sentinel sagged senseless where he sat. Sudden dragged the fellow further into the gloom, gagged and hound him with his own neckerchief and belt, and then, keeping under cover of the growths which skirted the edge of the plateau, made his way towards the ranch-house. Approaching from the side, he slipped over the rail of the verandah and creeping along in the shadow until he was beneath the lighted window, lifted his head cautiously and peeped in.
One glance told him all he wanted to know; it was the living-room, and King Burdette was there--alone. Reclining in a big chair, a bottle of spirit on the table beside him, the Circle B man appeared to be half asleep. He had discarded his belt, which was hanging on the back of another chair some feet away, a fact the visitor noted with a grin of approval.
'Luck is shore runnin' my way,' he commented softly, and cat-footed to the front door, where again fortune favoured him; he found it unfastened.
'PuT 'em up, Burdette ! '
The low, harsh command brought the dozing man to his senses like a dash of ice-cold water. With unbelieving eyes he stared at the granite-hard face of the man he hated and whose presence there he could scarcely credit. Then, as the threatening gun-muzzle dropped an inch and he saw the thumb holding back the hammer relax, he pushed his hands above his head.
'Good for yu,' the visitor said grimly. 'Yu were just one second away from hell when yu done that.'
King Burdette knew it was no bluff--this man would have shot him down without hesitation; the puncher with the sardonic smile and lazy, drawling voice had metamorphosed into a lean-faced, cold-blooded killer, and notwithstanding his hardihood, he felt an unaccustomed chill in the region of his spine. With an effort he flung off the feeling and regained something of his usual bravado. Inwardly he was cursing his men for letting the fellow pass, and himself for being caught without his weapons. His eyes went to them, and then to the lamp. An acid voice cautioned him.
'Yu couldn't make it, but'--the fell eagerness was evident--'I'd admire for yu to try. I'm hopin' yu will.'
Burdette, who had tensed his muscles in readiness to thrust the table over and jump for his guns, relaxed them again before the deadly menace of the warning. He locked his hands behind his head and laughed.
'Nervy, ain't yu?' he sneered. 'An' now--what? Goin' to hold me here till one o' my men comes in?'
'Yu better pray hard that don't happen--it'll be yore death-warrant,' Sudden said. 'Seem' I got a use for yu that'd be a pity. Stand up--slow--an' lead the way to Miss Purdie, an' mind this, Burdette, if things don't go slick, yu will.'
Footsteps sounded outside, and Sudden slid behind the half-open door. 'Send him on his way,' he hissed, and the threatening gun backed up the order.
'Everythin' all right, Boss?' asked a voice.
'Get to hell outa here,' King shouted, furious at the ignominious part he was being forced to play, and the man went away muttering.
'Come ahead,' the visitor curtly commanded.
For some seconds King hesitated, his subtle brain busily seeking a means of turning the tables on the man who had trapped him. But he could see no chance; save for old Mandy and the prisoners, he was alone in the house, his brothers and the outfit being either on guard or in the bunkhouse. Any attempt to summon them meant instant death; this grim-faced gunman who had slain Whitey was definitely not a man to gamble with. King had courage, but to die uselessly was no part of his programme. So he nodded suddenly and stepped to the door, consoling himself with the thought that his men were watching every avenue of escape. The fools might get clear of the house, and then...
Well aware of the gun-barrel nudging his ribs, he led the way upstairs, unlocked and threw open a door. In the dim light of the coming dawn they saw Nan Purdie, sitting with bent shoulders on the side of the bed. At their entrance she started up, her eyes wide with fear when she saw the Circle B owner.
'It's all right, Miss Purdie,' Sudden's voice assured her. 'Mister Burdette has had a change of heart--he's here to help yu.' His eyes narrowed when he saw her bound wrists. 'Turn her loose,' he ordered, and King, knowing that the shadow of death was very near to him at that moment, hastened to comply. 'Now we gotta collect yore brother, Luce,' the puncher said.
King emitted a savage snarl. 'Don't call that sneakin', white-livered cur brother to me,' he snapped. 'Yu can have him, an' welcome; he ain't worth the price of a rope.'
They found the other prisoner in the next room, bound hand and foot. When he had been released, Burdette turned a jeering face upon them. 'What's the next bright move?' he asked. 'My men has orders to shoot first an' inquire after.'
'Yu better hope they don't spot us, 'cause if they miss yu, I shan't,' Sudden told him. 'We'll go out the back way.' He handed one of the guns to the boy. 'If anythin' breaks loose, head for the brush an' get Miss Nan as far from here as possible; don't think of nothin' else whatever.'
A streak of faint grey light on the eastern horizon heralded the birth of a new day, but the valley below the Butte was still a pool of blackness. They crossed the open space at the back of the ranch-house safely and were about to plunge into the undergrowth when fortune forsook them. Sudden, intent on watching their conductor, trod on a loose stone, which, turning under his foot, flung him violently forward. Instantly Burdette was upon him, clutching his gun arm, and shouting lustily for his men. Sudden's voice rang out low and vibrant.
'Get the girl away, Luce; run like hell!'
Little as he liked it, the boy obeyed. Gripping Nan by the wrist, he dragged her into the brush, heedless of direction, intent only on putting distance between themselves and their prison. They were only just in time, for as they panted up the slope which sheltered the ranch-house, they could hear a medley of yells, curses, and pounding feet as the hands in the bunkhouse answered their employer's call.
Meanwhile, the man they had left behind was fighting for time as well as life; the longer he could give the fugitives the better chance they had of evading pursuit in the tangled scrub. King Burdette, furious at the failure of his plans and the humiliation the puncher had put upon him, fought like a tiger-cat. Sudden's unlucky slip had handicapped him almost hopelessly, for, as he fell, Burdette had dropped upon him, and now knelt across his prostrate body, one hand pinning down his gun, while the other squeezed his throat. In that vice-like grip the foreman was unable to give the promised signal. Conscious that aid was coming for the other man and that he had only a few moments, Sudden exerted himself to the utmost in an effort to break that murderous hold. But Burdette was a powerful man and his mad rage doubled his strength. Half-choked, his starved lungs aching for air, the puncher knew he could not bear the intolerable pressure much longer. The hate-filled eyes and snarling lips told that the man on top knew it too.
'Got yu this time, Mister Green; got yu good,' he panted.
Even had he wished to, the foreman could not answer; the pain in his throat was paralysing. With his free hand he struck feebly at his foe, wondering how much longer his ribs would bear the terrible strain to which they were being subjected. In an odd way his failing senses carried him back to his battle with this man's brother; Mart's mighty arms were crushing him again, and in a flash he remembered how he had escaped from that bear-hug which had so nearly proved fatal. Suddenly ceasing to struggle, he closed his eyes, let his head fall back and his whole
