“That,” said Larry, “is for keepin’ yourmouth shut.”
“About what?” blinked Shipway.
“About the little chore you’re gonna do onthis purty shooter.” Larry picked up the weapon and calmlyexplained. “What I want is for you to mix up a little molten lead.You can do that, can’t you?”
“Easily,” frowned Shipway. “But forwhat?”
“For the bottom part of the barrel,” saidLarry. “I want it blocked—solid.”
Shipway eyed him incredulously.
“You’re asking me to block the barrel ofthis fine new repeater? You realize what that means, friend? Thegun’ll be useless!”
“And,” nodded Larry, “if anybody loadedit, cocked it and fired it ...”
“That’d be plain murder!” protested Shipway.“The gun would explode! A man could get killed that way!”
“You better ease his mind, runt,” drawledStretch. “He’s about ready to holler for the law.”
“Shipway,” said Larry, as he folded theextra ten and tucked it into the gunsmith’s vest pocket, “one thingyou can take my word for. This gun ain’t gunna hurt nobody. That’sa promise. Fair enough?”
“Well—all right then,” sighed Shipway. “I’llblock the barrel, but it’s gonna break my heart. This is a finegun, mister. Can you imagine how I’ll feel? You take a horserancher, for instance. Would he tie a high-bred horse to a post andtake a bullwhip to it, whip it till it dies, for no reason atall?”
“The difference is,” declared Larry, “I gota reason for what I aim to do—and a damn good reason at that. It’ssomethin’ I’ll be glad to explain to you, but not now. You’ll justhave to take my word for it. This rifle will be worthwreckin’.”
“I’ll take your word,” decided Shipway, “andyour ten dollars—and keep my mouth shut. Rifle will be ready foryou inside the half-hour.”
“Gracias,” said Larry.
Outside the gunsmithery, Stretch asked,
“Where to now?”
“Up to the freight office,” said Larry, “toshoot a few questions at Martha.”
They found Martha, with Joey’s assistanceworriedly tallying figures in a ledger, in the clapboardheadquarters of the freight line. Larry’s query caused her somemisgivings.
“You want to dodge the patrols and travel upto the reservation? But why, Larry?”
“Go ahead and tell her,” suggested Stretch.“I reckon we can trust Martha and Joey.”
“Sure,” agreed Larry. “But, on the otherhand, what they don’t know can’t hurt ’em. It wouldn’t be fair totell ’em the whole score.” He perched on a corner of Martha’s desk,flashed her a reassuring grin. “I’ll tell you this much. We aim toparley with old Gayatero—peaceable.”
“Holy cow!” breathed Joey. “Nobody talkspeaceable to the Apaches!”
“There’s ways,” grinned Stretch.
“How about it, Martha?” proddedLarry. “Is there a way we could make it to the mesa, without abunch ofsoldiers steppin’ on our toes?”
“There’s a track I know of,” she frowned,as she rose front her chair. “If you could reach it, the rest wouldbe easy.” She moved across to a wall map to indicate the generalarea of Sun Dog Mesa. “Here, near the east base of the mountain,you’ll see a lot of mesquite. It’s plenty thick—a good place tohide. The track starts from the far side of the brush.”
“Okay for horses?” asked Larry.
“Yes,” she nodded. “But narrow, so youcouldn’t ride side by side.”
“What d’you think, runt?” frownedStretch.
“It looks okay,” Larry decided.
“But,” cautioned Martha, “you could run intomany a patrol before you ever reached that brush.”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take,”shrugged Larry. Back on Main Street, they refastened their slickersand drew their Stetsons tighter over their foreheads. The drizzlehad increased to a steady shower; the center of the street was aquagmire. Stretch, while building a cigarette, remarked, “I’mthirsty.”
“All right,” said Larry. “While you’rebuyin’ yourself a beer, I think I’ll mosey back to Shipway’s andwait for him to finish that repeater.”
“When you say ‘finish’,” chuckled Stretch,“you ain’t whistlin’ ‘Dixie’.” He turned to stare northward. “Heynow. You figure we got time to sneak up to the reservation beforesundown?”
“No,” said Larry. “Be better if we make ittomorrow morning.”
They parted company temporarily. While Larrytrudged downtown through the rain, Stretch steered a course for thenearest saloon, which happened to be the Gold Buckle. The onlythought in his mind was beer, the feel of a tall, cold flagon ofit, the pleasing sensation of transferring it from the flagon tohis welcoming interior. That was the only thought in his mind,until he spotted the familiar, bulky frame of Sergeant Hal Boyle.Abruptly, he forgot his thirst.
The sergeant and a corporal—alean jasper almost as tall as Stretch—were entering a building onthe opposite side of the street and half-way up the next block.Undeterred by the rain; Stretch crossed the street diagonally andambled along to inspect that particular establishment. A large,gaily-painted shingle proclaimed it to be “The Happy SwedeBath-House. Gents only. Lars Hunstrom, Prop.”
“So,” Stretch reflected, “the sarge and hispard are fixin’ to take an all-over bath—which means they got topeel off all their duds.”
Logical? Very. He pulled his Stetson evenlower over his face, darted a cautious glance to right and left,then sneaked into the narrow alley that separated the Hunstromestablishment from the next building in line. The alley wasdeserted, and he sincerely hoped it would remain so.
Steam issued from the side windows of thebathhouse, most of which were half-open. He investigated eachwindow with great care, sneaking quick looks inside and glimpsingmale citizens from every strata of Bosworth society, in varyingstages of undress or, squatting naked in large wooden tubs. Notuntil he reached the third window did he again sight Boyle and thecorporal. As bare as the day of their births, they were steppinginto steaming tubs.
Everything was going Stretch’s way, itseemed. The N.C.O.’s squatted with their backs to the window. Theiruniforms and side arms, plus their boots, had been piled on theboard floor and, thanks to Stretch’s extensive reach, wereavailable. With Boyle’s saber, he neatly raised the boots and drewthem to the window. It then occurred to him to throw a glancetoward the alley-mouth. Three men and a woman hustled past, withoutturning their heads. Again, he used the saber to good advantage.First the hats, then the tunics, then the pants and, finally, thebelted side arms.
He strapped both belts about his leanloins. The britches he wound about his waist and knotted. Thetunics and hats
