CHAPTER X FREIGHT FOR HIGHBANK

While Johnny had been talking to Margaret there was being enacted a far different scene down on the Bar H. The foreman's anger at the condition of his three men when they had ridden in the day before was newly aroused by Smitty the following morning, when he arrived and shamefacedly slunk into the bunkhouse. Big Tom stormed about the room, demanding to know why he had to have such sheep in his outfit. He wanted to know what they had done, and they could not tell him; he asked where they had gone, and they replied to the SV. What had they done there? They could not recall. Dahlgren spoke vaguely of "going after th' feller," but had no idea who he was, or anything about it; but they all remembered that Nelson had been with them, in the same condition as themselves, and that he had terrorized the SV household. Smitty corroborated the last and rejoiced at the agility which had twice saved him. There were some things to which his memory clung.

Little Tom Carney and Wolf Forbes enjoyed their friends' discomfiture, at the same time sharing in some of Big Tom's disgust.

Wolf looked at them pityingly. "You make me sick!" he sneered. "Fine bunch of sage hens—all you think about is liquor. How many times have I[108] told you to let th' stuff alone, as long as you couldn't drink like humans?"

"Parson Forbes has th' floor," growled Carson. "Bein' human, he——"

"That'll do!" snapped Wolf. "You know how much parson there is to me. Who shot you out of a lynchin' bee back in Texas?" he demanded.

"Who got me into it?" demanded Carson. "They was watchin' that bank, an' I told you so!"

"You said so because you got scared at th' last minute!" retorted Wolf. "If I didn't have to waste half an hour arguin' with you—oh, what of it! That ain't excusin' you from bein' a fool day before yesterday, is it?"

"Mebby you could 'a' done better?" ironically queried Dahlgren.

"If he couldn't, I'd fire him!" snapped Big Tom.

"You wouldn't have to fire me; I'd quit!" replied Wolf.

"Then why don't you do somethin', 'stead of loafin' along that northwest line, pertendin' you has got to watch for rustlers an' them Double X fellers?" sneered Fraser.

"I will!" shouted Wolf. "I'm goin' to watch one man—not everybody on th' range. There's only one man in this country that ain't got a good reason for bein' here—that's Nelson—an' I'm goin' to watch him till I get what I want. Then mebby you fools will be able to bury him for me. Think so?"

"I'm wishin' you luck," said Smitty. "You'll need it. You be careful who it is that gets buried."

[109]

Wolf looked at him pityingly. "You pore sheep!" he said, "I'm sorry you was so lively in th' SV house, cussed if I ain't!" He turned to Big Tom. "Do I go?"

"You do," said the foreman. "Somethin' is wrong, an' we got to fix it. Stay as long as you has to. I'm not worryin' about you—but I am scared th' cows will eat these four chumps. They shore is green an' tender. When you startin'?"

"Right soon," answered Forbes, going out.

Big Tom stood in the doorway and watched his two-gun man enter the corral. His confidence in the wiry killer was not built upon hearsay. Cold, venomous, and quick, he was more like a rattler than his namesake. Up to now every man who had faced Wolf Forbes had faced death, a death swift and certain.

In due time Wolf rode northward and arrived in Gunsight, where he loafed around exchanging gossip with everyone he knew. George was coaxed to talk, but his stupidity did what a mediocre cleverness might have failed to do. He yielded nothing that Wolf could use, and a few things which did not suit Wolf's needs. With Jerry, the harness-maker, the conversation was a husk without a kernel, and the second-hand saddles were of no value to Wolf, who was searching down things which were against his own convictions. Two-Spot smoked his cigar and rambled aimlessly in his garrulous monologue. He was hopeless from Wolf's viewpoint. Dave's admissions were barren of information of a constructive sort. Fanning did not know anything, and Dailey was as bad. Wolf finally gave up[110] the effort and went back to the Palace, there to await the coming of Nelson.

Johnny entered the saloon some time later, nodded to its occupants, but kept on going toward the rear door. "Be back after I eat," he said.

George looked out to see who was washing. "This ain't no time to come in for dinner," he growled.

"There's never no time like th' present. Can't help it," retorted Johnny. "While I'm washin' you rustle th' chuck."

"Wolf was here askin' about you," said George.

"That so? Well, that ain't no crime."

"Can he shoot better'n you?" queried the cook. "He says he'll shoot against anybody in this country with six-guns, any fashion, for a dollar a shot. Does it sound like money?"

"If I could shoot that good I'd be too rich to be restin' up between cow-punchin' jobs," gurgled Johnny through a double handful of water. "Reckon he knows what he's talkin' about, or he wouldn't risk bein' took up."

"Well," said the cook, "I've heard somethin' from them that seen it. If you aim to go ag'in' him, let me know ahead of time, will you?"

"I ain't aimin' to," replied Johnny.

"Hey! Wait!" exclaimed the cook, disappearing. He returned with a clean towel. "Use this. That ain't fit for a dog no more."

Johnny looked at the old one and smiled. It was quite some distance from the condition which called for a change of towels at the Delmonico. "Thanks.[111] Th' dirt won't come off this one. What about dinner?"

"Gosh! I forgot," said George, dodging into the kitchen.

Johnny had company while he ate, for the cook entertained him with an account of Wolf's visit, to all of which Johnny paid polite interest, but he hastened his meal. Then he slowed again, for George was beginning to get at the kernels.

"Has he lost his saddle?" asked the cook.

"Don't know."

"Must a' busted it. He asked me if I knowed where there was a good second-hand one, gold or brass trimmed. An' say, keep yore eyes on yourn; he asks me if you tote it up to yore room nights. I didn't tell him you keep it in th' kitchen, but I did say there wasn't no room in yore room for no saddle. He wants one, I reckon, because he went to Jerry's when he left here."

"He wouldn't take my saddle," said Johnny. "He was havin' fun with you."

"Mebby," admitted George. "He was in a jokin' humor, 'cause he laughed an' says he reckoned you'd get th' courtin' bug, like all th' rest, an' go callin' on that Arnold gal. An' he says he'll bet you get throwed as hard as th' rest of 'em. I gave it to him right back an' says that you an' me are both alike—we hates wimmin."

"They've got to hustle if they rope you or me," laughed Johnny. "What else did he say?"

"That's all, that an' what I told you before. Where you goin' now?"

"Round to Dave's for a game of cards, mebby.[112] Wolf an' Fanning are there," answered Johnny, taking his hat from the floor and arising.

"You ain't repeatin' what I said, are you?" asked George, somewhat anxiously. "He didn't mean nothin' by it."

"No; why should I? We all like to joke. I ain't got nothin' against Wolf. See you at supper," and Johnny went out the rear door. As he neared the corner of the kitchen Two-Spot turned it and bumped into him. "Wolf's askin' about you all over town," he muttered, and then, louder: "Why'n blazes don't you look out?"

"Some day I'll chuck you over th' roof," retorted Johnny. "If you'd keep yore head up you'd see where you was goin'!"

"Keep yore own head up! You don't own this town!"

Johnny turned as he reached Dave's door. "If I did I'd run you out of it," and entering, he slammed the door behind him.

There was a laugh from the bar, where Wolf and Fanning were still chatting with Dave. Wolf swung the conversation around to the SV and kept it there as long as he could after Johnny joined them. He worked around to Squint, and to the kidnapping of the Doc, and endeavored to get a careless admission from Johnny; but the latter evaded the traps. He showed no disinclination to talk about Wolf's pet subjects and even helped the other to keep the conversation on them. He disposed of the committee's visit to the SV by saying that either the Arnolds knew nothing at all about recent[113] events, or else they had been terrorized by the visitors' actions and had been unable to think clearly or even to talk. He admitted that the committee was in no condition to handle the situation, and that he was as bad as any member of it. As to what had really occurred out there the details were lost to him because he had been too drunk to know much about anything; and in this he was backed up by what Wolf, himself, knew about the other members of the committee. He remembered that he had got rough and that someone, he thought it had been Smitty, had yelled something about getting somebody, and they had followed him to do it.

"Give us another round, Dave," said Wolf. "I ain't losin' no sleep about th' Doc—" he began again.

Johnny interrupted him and led the way to a table. "Ain't no use standin' up all afternoon. We'll drink 'em over here, Dave."

Fanning and Wolf followed and the afternoon passed in cards, drinking, and talking. Johnny drank his liquor every round without losing his head, for which he was indebted to the proprietor. When supper time came around Fanning pushed back the table.

"I just can't make nothin' these days," he growled. "I never saw a game break so even; bet nobody's lost ten dollars."

"I won somewhere 'round four," laughed Wolf, arising.

"I'm out five," grinned Johnny. "Jim has played all afternoon to get that dollar. Goin' home, Wolf, or you aimin' to make a night of it?"

[114]

"Got to go," answered Wolf, "but I got sense enough to get my supper in town," he smiled. "Lead th' way, Jim."

"Hey!" called Dave, "somebody gimme a hand with this keg?"

Johnny, who was last in the line, turned. "Be right after you fellers," he said, over his shoulder. "Where do you want it, Dave?"

"Up on th' buck, under th' bar. Easy, now! Up! Good."

"That was fine baby stuff I was drinkin' all afternoon," chuckled Johnny. "How'd you keep th' color?"

"Young man," smiled Dave, "yore business is punchin' cows; mine's sellin' liquor. Go on, now, an' eat. Keep yore wits sharp."

While they were at supper there was a commotion outside and four punchers from the Double X stamped in. "Hello, fellers!" said Slim Hawkes, throwing his sombrero on a table.

"It smells good," grunted Wilkes, and turned to the other two. "Boys, this is Nelson: Nelson, shake han's with Gus Thompson an' Bill Sage." He nodded coldly to Wolf, who returned it with reserve.

"What brought you hoodlums to town?" asked Fanning. "You fellers act scared of Gunsight. Ol' Dailey got you buffaloed?"

"I reckon it's th' twenty miles," said Slim, dragging a table up to the one then in use. "Hey, George! Can't you move faster'n that?"

"Go roll in a ditch," came the polite reply.

"Well," said Wilkes, "we was ridin' near th' east[115] line when we discovers we was goin' to be late for supper, an' th' ranchhouse bein' near twenty miles, an' th' town only a couple, we votes for a ho-tel feed an' a session in Dave's." He turned toward the kitchen. "Hey, George! We saw dust above th' Sherman trail an' figgers it's Buffalo. Is he due tonight? Thought I'd tell you so you could get ready for th' old codger."

George stuck his head in the doorway. "Any more hard luck comin' this evenin'?" he demanded. "Can't somebody trail in after him so I can keep on a-workin'?"

"You get back in there an' go to work!" warned Thompson. "We're hungry!"

Wolf arose, paid his bill, and took up his hat. "Well, I'm off. So-long, fellers," and he strolled out.

"Which ain't causin' me no tears," muttered Slim. "He likes us 'bout as well as we like him. Here comes th' cook. Good for you, George!"

When the Double X squad had nearly finished, the rumble of a wagon was heard, rapidly getting nearer. Soon it passed the side of the hotel, and ceased.

"There's Ol' Allus-Late!" grumbled George.

"I'll give him a hand," said Johnny, arising and going out. "It'll save you time."

"Don't strain yoreself on my account," replied George.

"Hello, Buffalo!" said Johnny, starting to unhitch. "I'll put these boys in th' shed an' you go eat. George is ready for you. You can feed 'em later. If you'll trust me, I'll do it for you; I watched you last time."

"Much obliged, sonny," smiled the old man. "Yo're[116] right obligin', but I allus eat last. They've done good today, considerin' th' load, an' nothin's too good for 'em."

"Thought you came back light?"

"Got near a load of hides—can't you smell 'em?"

"I shore can; but I'm so slow witted they didn't mean anythin' to me. Green, too?" he suggested.

"Yep," replied the freighter. "Picked 'em up all along; but I won't get no more this trip. Th' Triangle won't have none—an' I ain't goin' to go out of my way to call at th' Bar H. Got enough, an' I'm goin' right through. I'm allus glad to git home."

"I bet you are," replied Johnny. "Ain't anythin' more I can do, is there?"

"No, sonny; thankee. I appreciate yore help. I ain't as young as I used ter be, nor as quick. Thankee; good night."

Johnny went to the saloon, where a sudden outburst of voices told him he would find Fanning and the Double X men. As he opened the door a roar of laughter greeted him.

"Cussed if that ain't rich!" shouted Slim, jumping up and down. "Th' Doc stole from his peaceful fireside. Oh! Ho! Ho! An' to 'tend to his friends, th' SV! By th' Lord! Mebby we'll do it over again, ourselves, sometime, when we feel extra good!"

"I'd give ten dollars to shake han's with th' man that done it," laughed Sage. "I bet Big Tom rolled on th' floor when he heard it—an' bit th' furniture!"

"But how'd he get Squint's outfit?" demanded Wilkes.

[117]

Dave told of Squint's disappearance and of the deep sorrow darkening the sun, whereupon an eager discussion took place. This lasted until Dailey came in and impatiently pounded on a table with the butt of his gun.

"Order, Gents; order!" he shouted. "My time's valuable—who are goin' to be th' victims?"

"Shore we'll order!" yelled Slim. "All up, boys! Dailey's treatin'," and despite his protests, he found that he was. Soon after this a six-handed game got into full swing.

Dave's vexation grew steadily and passed the anger point without stopping. He was tired, and now his labors were only beginning. Two-Spot was living up to Dave's opinion of him, for he had not been much in evidence around the saloon since noon, and had not appeared at all since the Double X punchers had come in. Dave went to the front door and called, and then he went to the rear door and yelled, but received no response. Thinking that he saw a shadowy figure skulking in the darkness, he yelled again, and with no honeyed promises as the burden of his message. Glancing around in the darkness as if to penetrate it by an act of will, he shouted a threat and stamped back to the bar, slamming the door so hard that the windows shook.

"Come on, Dave!" cried Dailey, cheerful in view of his ownership of the last pot. "What you so slow about?"

"If he'd quit pickin' on Two-Spot," said Thompson, "an' tend to business, folks would like it better."

"Anybody that don't like it can get out!" retorted[118] Dave. "He's never around when there's work to be did!"

The evening passed swiftly and midnight was not far off when Dave found it necessary to draw on the contents of the new keg, and he disappeared below the bar for a few minutes. Hardly had his head passed from sight when Two-Spot, closely watching the bar, slipped quietly through the rear door and went silently to Johnny, where he poked his face close to the puncher's ear and muttered for a moment. Johnny nodded and looked over his hand again, while Two-Spot scurried for the door and safety, being silently threatened by Fanning, who thoroughly enjoyed the situation. Two-Spot looked fearfully around and closed the door behind him. He barely had time to get under the saloon when Wolf Forbes, returning from his short tour around the buildings, turned the corner of the kitchen and peered in at the window.

Johnny folded his hand, pushed out the required number of chips and grunted. "I'm trailin'—but I shore wish that man would stop. He must have about thirteen aces."

"I'm limpin', but I'm there," remarked Thompson. "Th' dust back here is awful."

"There ain't no call for you to put on airs," growled Slim, pushing in what he was shy. "I got four kings, but you don't see me quittin', do you?"

"You must a' picked up what I throwed away," said Dailey. "Havin' felt yore pulses I'm buildin' a house right out there in th' middle, where you all can see it, an' get covetous."

[119]

"Th' coyote that wins this pot," said Slim, "will shore have to get Ol' Buffalo an' his freight waggin' to haul——"

A roar of laughter burst from Johnny and he pushed back from the table, lying back in his chair so his lungs could have plenty of room. Dailey put his hand over the pile of chips he had just shoved in, Slim jumped and stared at the roaring puncher, the others manifesting their astonishment each according to his own manner. There was a resounding whack! from the bar and Dave, holding the top of his head with both hands, moaned as he looked wildly about, and then, glaring at the convulsed puncher, he made several pointed, pertinent, profane, and personal remarks and slowly went down again to finish his task.

Slim scratched his head. "Well," he drawled, "I allus knowed I was bright an' witty, but I never knowed that I was that good. I likes a man that pays me a compliment like that."

"Th' loud an' screechin' roarin' of th' wild jackass is heard nightly over th' land," observed Sage. "It has scared me plumb cold—I'm layin' down as fine a pair of four-spots as I've ever held. I ain't got th' nerve to give 'em the backin' they deserves. Will somebody lend me their gun?"

"I cussed near shot," said Wilkes.

"What's that?" demanded Dailey. "Don't you do nothin' like that! He's a part of my profits. Now, if somebody will stuff a hat in that cave, I'll proceed from where I left off. I've raised her till she sags in th' middle—who's got any props?"

[120]

"I allus play poker by th' weather," said Thompson. "When it's dry an' hot, I calls, an' when it's hot an' dry, I raises. Bein' dry an' hot, I hereby calls. Dave, bring me a box to put it in."

"Don't you bother Dave," chuckled Dailey. "He's puttin' hoss liniment on his bald spot—from ear to ear, an' eyes to spine. I can tote this home in a couple of trips."

Johnny, weak and tearful, drew up to the table. "I was just a-thinkin'," he said. "Where are we now?"

"Was you?" queried Fanning. "Then don't you never do no thinkin' nights after I've gone to bed."

Dave emerged again, grinning. "Beats all," he muttered, "how our sins foller us around. Pore Squint; I reckon his mem'ry's with us. I won't rest till I knows what was done with him."

In the middle of the next game Johnny broke out again and Dave reached for the mallet.

"I ain't what you'd call superstitious," said Dailey, "but I lost that last pot to a man who didn't even know where he was. Every time I hears a jackass warble I has bad luck. I'm obeyin' th' warnin' an' gettin' out of this game while I have th' holes left in my belt. What's more, I'm goin' home; I know when it's time to let go."

"Pore Dailey," moaned Fanning, "we all got a little of it tonight—an' I'm sleepin' with a gun under my piller, you bet!"

"It's time we quit," said Slim, arising. "We got twenty miles to go—an' while mebby it ain't so dark as I've seen it, it'll be dark enough to keep us from racin'.[121] But before I go I'd like to find out somethin': Will somebody please tell me what I said, that second time, that was so funny?"

"It wasn't nothin' you said, Slim," answered Wilkes; "it was yore face—but I holds that it's cussed unpolite for anybody to laugh right out loud about a man's misfortunes."

"Nelson, I begs yore pardon," said Slim. "You has a proper an' fittin' sense of humor. Let's have one more round before we ride home an' wake up th' boys to tell 'em what happened to Dailey. How'd you come out, Nelson?"

"I got plenty—a great plenty, thank you," answered Johnny, throttling the laughter which threatened to burst out again. "I'm heavy with it. Dailey will foller me around tomorrow tryin' to get me into a seven-up or Californy-jack game in his store, where he's got lookin' glasses an' cold decks. Well—here's how." Putting down the half-emptied glass he turned, nodded, and went out. When he closed the door behind him he became alert as a cat in a strange cellar and slipped around the kitchen, hand on gun. Once inside the hotel he began laughing again, silently this time, and went hurriedly up to his room, where he lit the lamp and began to undress. Removing his boots he stood up, and in such a position that the shadow on the wall would tell any watcher that he was removing his shirt. Blowing out the light, he hurriedly put the garment on again and, carrying the boots in his hand, slipped silently down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he took the lariat from his saddle and went swiftly to the front door,[122] where he listened as he slowly opened it. Satisfied that no one was watching, he slid out sideways, closed the door gently behind him and, going along the side of Dailey's store, he slung the lariat around his neck, put the boot straps between his teeth and, dropping on all fours, crossed the road and disappeared into the darkness on the farther side.

The noise around at Dave's took on sudden volume as the Double X punchers went out to their horses. Laughing and joking, they swung down the trail at a lope. Fanning and Dailey said good night to Dave and departed.

Gunsight instantly grew quiet and soon a figure emerged from Dave's horse shed and was swallowed up in the darkness to the east of the main trail, and soon thereafter the hoofbeats of a horse were heard by one pair of listening ears in town. Two-Spot crept out from under the saloon and stood up, shaking his fist at the sound, which moved southward. Then the hoofbeats grew more rapid as Wolf increased the pace of his horse.

Down the trail, where it narrowed to pass between two clumps of brush, a coatless, hatless figure crouched in the left-hand thicket, the coil of rope in his left hand held low down. At irregular intervals he seemed to be suffering from an attack of ague, for he quivered and shook; and there came from him strange, subterranean rumblings and rusty wheezes which he tried to muffle with an arm. As the hoofbeats coming from town grew rapidly louder and nearer he tensed himself. The pounding rang out loudly, now, the soft jingling of chain and[123] ornaments distinguishable in the greater sound, and soon the vague figure of a mounted man burst out of the darkness and swept past the clumps of brush. The waiting man on foot straightened his body and arm at the same moment, and at the instant the rope grew taut he pulled it sharply and leaned back with all his strength. There was an exclamation and a crash, and the man who had waited ran swiftly forward, hauling the rope in hand over hand. Kneeling at the side of the prostrate figure he slipped the guns from their holsters and threw them into the brush, and then fell back to work with the rope and the victim's kerchiefs. With the gagged, bound, and blindfolded man on his back he went up the trail toward town.

Gunsight had been quiet for over an hour when a strangely shaped figure staggered across the road west of the hotel and steadily neared the shed. It came slowly around the corner and stopped at the side of the big freight wagon, where part of it went to the ground, while the remainder, appearing in the form of a man, worked at the ropes closing the tarpaulin at the rear of the wagon, and soon had it open. He stepped back for a moment as a reminder of what lay behind it struck his nostrils, and again he was seized with a recurrence of the peculiar malady which had seized him frequently in the last hour. At the muffled sounds which came from him, the figure on the ground writhed as if in sympathy and endeavored to repeat them. The attack passing, he drew a long breath and plunged his head and shoulders into the opening he had made and worked hard for a few minutes; and when he stepped back he had[124] several pieces of rope in his hands, which he had taken from a bundle of skins. Drawing a few deep breaths he moved around the wagon and bent over the figure on the ground, exchanging the pieces of rope for his own lariat, but not without a struggle which made it necessary for him to sit on the figure and exert his strength. Tying good knots in the dark on arms and legs which writhed and twisted was slow work, but it was necessary that it be well done, and when he arose to his feet he was assured as to that. Bending over, he picked up the figure and carried it to the rear of the wagon, where he pushed it headfirst into the opening made for it, despite its contortions and gurgled profanity. Again his head and shoulders disappeared under the tarpaulin, and when he straightened up he knew that his victim was so securely lashed to the wagon box that it would be impossible for him to move around, no matter how much he bridged and wriggled, no matter how much the wagon jolted. It was a job which demanded care, and had received it. Satisfied as to the conditions inside the wagon, he now turned his attention to the outside, which must be proof against telling anything to the observing eyes of the old buffalo hunter. He carefully replaced the tarpaulin as he had found it, even to its folds, and he duplicated the knots he had untied. Pausing a moment to think, he dusted canvas and ropes, cogitated as to his own footprints, which Old Buffalo would not fail to notice, if the light permitted. He got his rope, coiled it, and with this for his tool he effaced the prints and then went to the horse shed. When he reappeared he was leading a horse[125] whose color melted into the darkness like a lump of charcoal in ink. They passed in the dark like the passing of a cloud and it was not until some minutes later that the drumming of hoofs rang out on the trail, bound southward in search of a saddled, but riderless, horse, which should be found in that direction. It would not do for it to be seen by anyone but themselves while it bore the riding gear of Wolf Forbes.

A blot on the ground near the horse shed arose. Two-Spot was in pain and the tears were flowing down his unwashed cheeks, while spasm after spasm racked him. Holding a six-gun limply in his hand, he stumbled and staggered away from the buildings, to some place where he could give free vent to the agonizing mirth which threatened to choke him. Coming to a weed-filled gully he sank into it and lay with his face buried in his arms. Minutes passed before he got control of himself and then he rolled over weakly and stared up at the star-filled sky, inert and sore, for he knew not how long.

"If it was anybody but Wolf," he moaned, "it would be bad enough, but it's ten times worse as it is. Wolf Forbes, th' killer; Wolf, th' two-gun badman, th' terror of th' range; th' cool, deliberate, stuck-up Wolf, who walks with stiff-laigged dignity, an' holds his nose up in th' air! Wolf Forbes—oh, my G—d! Gimmie air! Snoopin' wiselike all over town, fillin' his ears; smart an' chipper, cold an' wise! Oh, me! Oh, my! Sneakin' 'round from winder to winder, listenin' at th' cracks—as if I didn't see his bow laigs passin' back and forth. Tryin' to learn if it was Nelson who stole th' pill-roller,[126] an' did for Squint. Hearin' what them Double X fellers had to say about it, an' him; standin' there bilin' with rage! Oh, when this night's work gets spread over th' range there'll go up a laugh that'll shake th' sky! If he's got th' nerve to come back an' face that music he'll have to use them guns of his'n. An' he can't fight 'em all, good as he is. Wolf, huh? He started out as a wolf, but he'll change his spots afore he gets to Highbank, an' his scent, too! He! He! He! He'll turn into a polecat—a hydrophoby skunk! Oh! Me! Oh! My! Polecat Forbes, th' strong man! Oh! Ho! Ho!"

While he rested, his merriment slowly died and gave way to venom, and he sat up to shake his fist in the direction of the wagon.

"You earned it, cuss you!" he snarled. "Bound up like a bundle of rags, an' headed for Highbank, you are! Forty mile, it is; forty mile of sun, an' jolts, an' stink, an' flies, an' achin' bones, an' cuttin' ropes. Forty mile of heat an' dust an' thirst; forty mile of rage, of thinkin' it all over; forty mile of h—l on wheels—that's what it is—forty mile of h—l on wheels! Fourteen hours, says I, but I hopes it's twenty. Time enough for thinkin', you blackguard. 'Member th' time you kicked me off'n Dave's hitchin' rail? 'Member how funny it was, huh? 'Member how I said I'd get square with you, an' how you kicked me ag'in, an' made me dance to yore blasted guns? I was a harmless ol' man; but it was funny, just th' same. Oh, I'm wishin' I dast go over there an' tell you all I'm thinkin'—yore ears would bother you more'n yore nose if I could.[127] If I only knowed you wouldn't come back; if I only knowed that! It was me that did it. I told Nelson about you, an' I was hopin' you'd get blowed apart; but this is better, cuss you! When yo're dead yore troubles are over—an' you'll wish you was dead when this story gets out. An' if you keeps yore nerve, an' finds out who done it, you will be! Wolf? Wolf? Huh! I got a better name for you!"

He arose and went back toward the saloon, and had not quite reached it when he heard the soft steps of a horse on the sand and he dropped to the ground, his gun lightly held and ready. In a moment he made out a man leading a horse and he arose, which turned the approaching figure into a blur of action. He could feel the menace of the other's gun.

"It's me—Two-Spot," he whispered hoarsely.

The other relaxed and came nearer. "You tryin' to get shot?" came a low, tense voice. "What you doin'?"

"I had to be dead shore who it was that's tied up like a bundle of trash in th' waggin," answered Two-Spot. "You ridin' south bothered me. I'll never forget this, never!"

"That's th' first thing you got to do—till you hear about it from somebody else," replied Johnny, feeling at his saddle. "Here," he said, untying a Winchester and holding it out. "I promised you a rifle—an' this is somethin' else you want to forget. I got one of his six-guns tied under my slicker roll—you see that you don't forget that it belongs to me. I'll give you th' cartridges tomorrow—they're in th' belt over my[128] shoulder. You rustle under that floor, it's near daylight."

A grin of delight swept over Two-Spot's face as he grasped the weapon, and he scurried to his nest. But there was one thing more to make his happiness complete—he had to see the start of the wagon. And he did not have to wait long. With the first blush of day Old Buffalo appeared, hitched up his horses and urged them to begin their long pull to Highbank. The wagon squeaked and rumbled and passed from the watcher's sight; and when the last sound died out in the south, Two-Spot went to his blankets to lie on his back and gloat over the miseries of Wolf as his vivid imagination pictured them.

Down on the Highbank trail, bound and helpless, and exhausted by his frantic efforts to free himself, Wolf Forbes seethed with rage, which later would burn itself out and bring an inert apathy to ease him; and two things seared his memory: The mirth of the man who had trapped him, and the sound of a horse's hoofs pounding at top speed down the trail. They had gone southward, towards the Bar H, the Triangle, and the faint trail leading to the Double X. With these meager clues he built several edifices of speculation, not one of which could be singled out in preference to the others. His friends were notorious practical jokers, and he had done his share at it. The Double X outfit hated him, and Nelson had cause to wish him out of the way if his suspicions concerning Nelson were well founded. Would his unthinking friends carry a joke so far; would the Double X think of and carry out the[129] play; and if Nelson felt that he was in danger, would he be fool enough to do a thing like that? In his place Wolf would have killed. But he would hunt out the perpetrator, whoever he was, when he came back—and he was going back!