* * * * *When the east-bound accommodation pulled into X—— at dusk two men jumped off and started toward the nearest hotel. The proprietor of the Come-Again assigned them a room and spoke of supper, to which they intimated their ability to do justice to "anythin' you got." As they turned away carelessly toward the "washroom" one of them halted: "We're expectin' a friend," and he gave a concise description of the third man."Why, he 's upstairs now—first door to th' left at th' top of th' flight—got in this afternoon. But he said he did n't want to be bothered none," hastily warned the proprietor."That's right—you can let that go for th' three of us," replied Hopalong, smiling."Said his nerves was all stampeded," commented the host, dubiously.Hopalong winked, grinning: "Did n't act none that-a-way, did he?""Oh, Itoldhim somebody was stringin' him," laughed the proprietor."Reckon we 'll go up an' hustle him down to his feed," Tex remarked, leading the way, with Hopalong stepping on his heels.The proprietor studied the three names on his register, and spoke to the horseman, who now was playing solitaire in a negligent way. "Wonder what's up, Dick?""Dunno," replied Dick, holding aloft a queen of hearts and studying the layout. "Reckon you better let this deal go by. Keep yore chips out, Joe; don't like th' looks of th' pair of 'em. That red-head looks like a bad customer, if his corn 's stepped on. Mebby their nervous friend has did somethin' they don't like."The knocking upstairs now reverberated through the house and a peevish voice threatened destruction to the door unless it opened speedily."That's th' red-head," remarked Dick. "What did I tell you?"The proprietor hastened from behind the bar and went up the steep, narrow stairs with undignified haste. "Don't bust that door!" he cried. "Don't you bust it!""Aw, close yore face!" growled a voice, and Dick nodded his head wisely. "Both of 'em bad customers," he mumbled.There was a crash and the sound of splintering wood, followed by disgusted exclamations. Dick arose and sauntered up to see the show: the host was nervously clutching a bill large enough to pay for several broken doors. The red-head was looking out of the open window while the other man rapidly searched the room."He dropped his belongings first," audibly commented the man at the window. "Thenhedropped." He turned quickly to the proprietor: "Did he have a horse?""Yes; bought one first thing after he registered.""We want one apiece," crisply demanded Hopalong, "with speed, bottom, an' sand. Got 'em? No? Then where can we get 'em to-night?""What'd he do?" blundered the host, rubbing the bill with tender fingers and looking for information instead of giving it."He dropped out th' winder," sharply replied Tex. "We never stand for that.""Never, not under no circumstances," endorsed his friend. "It allus riles us. How 'bout them horses?""I reckon I can fix you up," offered Dick. "I sold him th' hoss he 's got. He wanted th' best in town, which he didn't get for bein' too blamed flip. But he paid for it, just th' same. I got a roan an' a bay that 'll run Big Gray off 'n his feed an' his feet. If yo 're comin' back this way I 'll buy 'em back again at a reduction—I 'd like to keep them two. I don't reckon I 'll get no chance to buy back th' other."The horseman fell in behind the descending procession and lined up with it against the bar on Hopalong's treat. Then they left the proprietor to swear at the cook while they departed for the corral.Dick chuckled. "Th' gray I sold yore missin' friend carried Bad Hawkins from Juniper Creek to Halfway in fourteen hours—ten miles an hour. Th' roan an' th' bay did it in ten hours even—which puts a period after th' last words of Hawkins. Bad Hawkins weighed less 'n you," he said to Tex, "an' th' gray shore sprains a laig a-doin' it. It don't show—that is, not when he was sold it did n't. That feller was too d—d flip—one of them Smart Alecks that stirs my bile somethin' awful."Tex wearied of his voice: "Yore discernment is very creditable," he replied, with becoming gravity.The horseman glanced at him out of the corner of his eye: "Yes—I reckon so," he hazarded.When they reached the corral the two strangers looked in critically. Nearly a score of horses were impounded, among them several bays and roans. Hopalong pointed to one of the roans. "That looks like th' horse," he remarked, quietly, at the instant his friend singled out the bay."Them 's th' hosses—they 'll run th' liver out of Big Gray even if his laig does hold out," smiled their owner, glad that his first customer had not been as wise as either of these two men. The horses were cut out and accepted on the spot."How much?" demanded Hopalong, brusquely."Eighty apiece.""That's a lot of money. But we got to have 'em. How 'bout saddles? We can do without 'em if we has to, but we ain't hankerin' very strong to do it.""I got a couple of good ones," responded the horseman. Then he yielded to a sudden burst of generosity. "Tell you what I 'll do—I 'll sell you them saddles for forty apiece an' when I gets 'em back, you gets yore money back. An' if you don't kill th' hosses, we 'll have a little dicker over them, too. I would n't sell 'em only for a good price an' you won't have nothin' to complain about if I buys 'em back again.""Yo 're a white man," responded Hopalong. "Now we all oughta have a drink to bind th' deal. An' I reckon supper 'll go good, too. We 'll be right glad to have you join us." The invitation was accepted with becoming alacrity.After the meal, and a game of cards, during which both punchers had learned much about the surrounding country, they went on a tour of investigation. They had discovered that the only way south likely to be taken by a man not perfectly familiar with the several little-known mountain trails, was through Lone Tree Pass. A walk about the town, before turning in, disclosed to them the kind and amount of Dave's purchases: these showed that he expected to be in the saddle more than a few hours. Returning to the hotel they went at once to their room. Sitting on the edge of the bed Hopalong asked a question: "You 've got me on t' lay of th' land in this part of the country, Tex. Why do you figger he 'll head south?"Tex blew out the light and settled himself snugly in his bed before replying. "Because anybody else would figger he 'd strike north for th' Canadian line, or up to Helena an' West, where a man can get lost easy. I 've sort of palled with Dave, an' I know th' skunk like a ABC book. His trail will show us th' way, but it won't tell us about th' country ahead of us. I allus like to know what I 'm goin' up against when I can.""Shore; good-night," muttered Hopalong, and in a moment more soft snores vibrated out through the open window, to be mildly criticised by the cook in the cook shack below.Down in the bar-room the proprietor, having said good-night to his last customer, pushed the column of figures away with a sigh of satisfaction and rested his chin on his hand while he reviewed the events of the day. "Why," he muttered, pugnaciously, coming out of his reveries and pouring himself a liberal drink on the strength of the day's profits; "why, now I know what that coyote wanted his room at the back of the house for—good thing I got th' money ahead of time! Well, he 's got a h—l of a lot of trouble chasin' him, anyhow, th' beat."* * * * *With three days' rations fastened to their saddles Hopalong and Tex whirled away from the Come-Again as the first streak of gray appeared in the eastern sky and after a short distance at full speed to take the devilishness out of their mounts, they slowed to a lope. Heading straight for the Pass, they picked up Dave's trail less than two miles from town and then settled into a steady gait that ate up the miles without punishing their horses. They had not made any mistake in their mounts for they were powerful and tough, spirited enough to possess temper and courage without any undue nervous waste, and the way they covered ground, with apparently no effort, brought a grim smile to Hopalong's face."I don't reckon I 'll do no swappin' back, Tex," he chuckled. "I 've allus wanted a cayuse like this 'n, an' I reckon he 'll stay bought, even at th' price.""They look good—but I 'll tell you more about 'em by night," Tex replied. He glanced ahead with calm assurance: "I don't figger he's so very far, Hoppy?""Why no, Tex; he could n't ride hard last night, not over strange country—it was darker'n blazes. We did n't leave very long after him when you figger it in miles, an' he ain't reckonin'shoreon bein' chased. He drops out th' winder an' sneaks that way 'cause he ain't takin' no chances."We 've got th' best cayuses, we 've had more sleep than him, we know this game better, we 're tougher, an' we can get more out of a cayuse than he can. I reckon we ought to get sight of him afore sundown, an' I would n't be surprised if we saw him shortly after noon. We 'll shore get him 'bout noon, if he 's had any sleep.""I 'd ruther get him this side of Lone Tree Pass—I ain't hankerin' for no close chase through th' mountains after a cuss like Dave," Tex replied. "What do you say 'bout lettin' out another link?"Hopalong watched his horse for a minute, glanced critically at his companion's, and tightened the grip of his knees. "That feller said a hundred an' forty in ten hours—how far is that pass? Well, might as well find out what this cayuse can do—come on, let 'em go!"Pounding along at a gait which sent the wind whistling past their ears they dipped into hollows, shot over rises, and rounded turns side by side, stirrups touching and eyes roving as they searched the trail ahead. The turns they made were not as many as those in the trail they followed, for often they cut straight across from one turn to another. The ability to do this brought a shrewd smile to Hopalong's thin lips."Let his cayuse pick its way, Tex—told you he could n't go fast last night. Bet a dollar we come to where he slept afore long—an' say! luck 's with us, shore. Notice how he was bearin'—a little off th' course all th' time—that gray of his must a' come from som'ers up north. He had to correct that when he could see where th' Pass lay—come on, we 'll try another cut-off, an' a big one.""Yo 're right—we 'll gain a hour, easy," Tex replied as they shot off at a tangent for the distant mountain range on a line for the Pass. The sun was two hours higher when Tex laughed aloud, stretching his hand across his friend's horse and pointing some distance ahead of him. "There's th' track again, Hoppy," he cried, "you was right—see it?"Hopalong waited until they swept up along the fresh trail before he replied and the reply was characteristic of him. "Pushin' th' gray hard, Tex. Them toe prints are purty deep—an' d—d if th' gray ain't havin' trouble with his bad laig! See that off fore hoofmark? See how it ain't as deep as its mate? Th' gray's favorin' that laig, an' only for one reason: it hurts him more when he don't. Move away a little, Tex; don't do no good to be bunched so close where there 's so much cover. He ain't a long way off, judgin' from them tracks. We don't know that he ain't doubled back to pick us off as we near him."Tex tightened his knee-grip and rowelled his spurs lightly along the side of his mount, darting ahead with Hopalong speeding up to catch him. It was a test to see how the horses were holding up and when the animals took up the new speed and held it with plenty of reserve strength, the two men let them go.As they shot down a rough, sloping trail to a shallow creek, flowing noisily along the bottom of a wild arroyo, Hopalong looked ahead eagerly and called to Tex to slow down to a walk. Tex, surprised, obeyed and took the reins of the bay as Hopalong went ahead to cross the stream on foot. But Tex's surprise was only momentary; he quickly understood the reason for the play and he warmed to his sagacious friend while he admired his skill.Hopalong waded the stream and looked carefully around on both side of the tracks where they left the water. Motioning Tex to come ahead, he grinned as the other obeyed. "Did n't want to splash no fresh water around here till I saw if th' water Dave splashed was all soaked up. It is; but th' spots is moist. An' another thing: see th' prints o' that hoof where he takes up an' sets down—where is he lame?""Shoulder," replied Tex with instant decision."Shore is. An' he 's been a-gettin' lamer every step. Bet he ain't an hour ahead, Tex.""Won't take you—an' he 'll be above us all th' way till we cross th' top of th' range, so we better keep under cover as much as we can," Tex replied. "We 've trailed worse men than Dave, a whole lot worse, an' far better shots; but he ain't really due to miss twice in two days. Th' Pass ain't so far ahead now—there it is, with th' blasted pine stickin' up like a flag-pole. Half an hour more an' we 'll be in it."Ahead of them, toiling up the Pass on a tired and limping horse rode Dave, not so fresh as he might have been with the four hours' sleep he had secured in the open at dawn. The night ride over strange, rough country had been hard and his rage at the shabby trick played upon him by the horse dealer had not helped him any. To win up to the point where success was almost his; and then to have a half-breed horse coper—one who had absolutely no connection with the game—threaten to defeat him! To fool all the players, to gain, as he thought, a big handicap and then to be delayed by a man who sought only to gain a little money and be well rid of a poor horse! Dave's temper was like that of a rattler hedged in by thorns and the rougher part of the mountain trail had been saturated with profanity. There was not much chance of meeting any one on that trail and by the time he reached a place where he could get another horse, the need for one would have gone. Let him see a horseman and he knew who would ride the horse. He struck the limping gray savagely as it flinched over a particularly rough part of the trail and he was growling and swearing as he rounded a turn in the Pass and came to a place where, by climbing a boulder just above him, he could get a good view of the way he had come. Dismounting, he made the climb and looked back over the trail. Miles of country were below him, the trail winding across it, hidden at times and then running on in plain view until some hill concealed it again. The sun was half down in the western sky and he swore again as he realized how much farther he should have been—how near the end of his ride."A hundred an' forty miles in ten hours!" he snarled, squirming back to descend to his horse. "No wonder Bad Hawkins got caught! Served th' d—n fool right; an' it 'd serve me right for being such a——" the words ceased and the speaker flattened himself to the rock as he peered intently at a hill far down the trail, waiting to be sure his eyes had not deceived him.The slanting sun had made a fairyland of the rugged scenery, bathing the rocks until they seemed to glow, finding cunningly hidden quartz and crystals and turning them into points of flame. The fresh, clean green coat that Spring had thrown over the crags as if to hide them, softened the harsher tones and would have thrilled even Dave, who was sated with scenery, if it had not been for his temper and the desperate straits in which he found himself. He lay like one dead but for the straining eyes. An eagle, drifting carelessly across the blue, missed him in its sharp scrutiny, so well did his clothes blend with the tones of the rock."H—l!" he muttered, for far below him something moved out into the trail again where it emerged from behind the hill, and two mounted men came into sight, riding rapidly to take advantage of the short run of level country.Dave could not make them out—they were only two men at that distance, but he wasted no time nor gave heed to any optimism. He wriggled backwards, dropped to the trail, and looked around for a place to hide his horse. Not seeing one at hand he mounted again and forced the limping animal forward until he saw a narrow ravine cut into the mountain side by the freshets of countless years. Leading the gray into this and around a turn in the wall, he picketed the animal and then hastened back, scurrying to and fro in search of a hiding place that would give him a view of the trail for the greatest distance. His mind worked as rapidly as his feet. The coming horsemen might be innocent of all knowledge of him or of his need. If so, he preferred to ride behind them. If they were in pursuit—and he could not believe it to be a mere coincidence that any but an enemy would be following him so close through Lone Tree Pass—they had not started from the town he had just quitted—unless they had traced him by telegraph! Dave cursed softly and settled himself a little more at ease in his ambush.Hopalong and Tex, enjoying that friendship that sets no embarrassment on silence, rode forward side by side when the trail permitted it, grim, relentless, dogged. They represented that class of men who can pursue one thing to the exclusion of all tempting side leads, needing nothing but what they themselves can supply; who approach all duties with cool, level-headed precision and gain their goal without a thought of reward and with small regard for danger. Danger they had both met in all the forms it took on the range and trail, dance-hall and saloon; both had mastered it by the speed and certainty of their hands and guns, and neither found anything exciting or fearful in this game of follow and take; on the other hand it was tiresome to have to follow, and one man, at that. If some bold, daring stroke of strategy or a reckless dash could have been hoped for, it would have made the game interesting. So they jogged on toward the opening of the pass, taciturn and sombre, but with the cold patience of Indians.The trail narrowed again and Tex took the lead. "Closer now," he remarked, more to himself than to his companion, whose reply was a grunt, presumed to be affirmative. When they entered the pass itself it was Hopalong who led, and to see him as he sat slouching in his saddle, apparently half asleep, one would have wondered that a man whose wariness was the basis of so many famed exploits could ride thus carelessly, allowing his horse to pick the way. But in the shadow of his straight-brimmed hat, two hard, keen eyes squinted through the narrow lids, among the wrinkles, and missed nothing that could be seen; under the faded red shirt sleeve was an arm ready for the lightning draw that had never yet been beaten, and the hand-worn butt of the heavy Colt rubbed softly against the belt-strap of its holster.Hopalong rolled a cigarette and took advantage of the movement to speak: "Goin' back to Texas, Tex?""Why," replied Tex, pausing to reflect. "Why, I said as how I would to all yore boys, but I reckon mebby Buck needs me worse'n you do. What think?""Stay up here an' run for sheriff," was the crisp reply. "This country 's sick with crooks.""Reckon so.""Good place for undertakers, while th' boom is on," continued Hopalong, smiling grimly at the truth in his jest. He knew Tex Ewalt."Th' boom 'll be busted flat afore you go home," Tex responded. "It's fallin' now. Dave was its high-water mark."They were riding side by side now and Hopalong growled a suggestion: "Go slow, Tex; mebby he 's holin' up on us, like he did on Buck. He ain't more 'n a million miles ahead of us now.""Uh-huh; an' if he is he ought to get us easy in this place. Got to take a chance, anyhow. Gimme a match—Look out!"As he spoke he hurled his horse against Hopalong's and his left arm dropped to his side with a bullet through it, while his right hand flashed to his hip, where a pungent cloud of smoke burst out to envelop his horse's head. Off his balance from the unexpected shock, Hopalong's shot went wide, but the next five, directed at Dave's head-long rush as he came crashing down through the underbrush, gave promise of better aim.[image]As he spoke he hurled his horse against Hopalong's, while his right hand flashed to his hip"I owed him that, anyhow," muttered Tex, his ears ringing from the fusillade so close to him. "An' I owed you th' play, Hoppy, ever since that day in th' brush—""You don't owe me nothin' now, Tex; that's as close as any in ten years," returned Hopalong. "Well, he showed hisself a d—d ambushin' snake just as we thought he would. He could a' got us both if his nerves had n't got th' chills an' fever. We was some careless!""We was a pair of blasted kids," Tex remarked. "Now what 'll we do with him? We can't take him back, an' buryin' in solid rock ain't been in my schoolin'.""We can cover him with rocks, I reckon, but we ain't got time—besides, how'd he leave Buck?" demanded Hopalong sharply. "Why, he got you, Tex! Here, you close-mouthed fool, lemme fix that hole."Tex stood quietly thoughtful until Hopalong had finished his task. "We 'll just chuck him off th' trail, Hoppy; then we won't have to answer no question or shoot sense into no thick skulls. How 'bout it?""Uh-huh, go ahead," grunted Hopalong and the two walked over, picked up the unresisting bulk and placed it in a fissure in the rock wall."By th' Lord!" swore Tex: "Five shots out of five when you got yore balance—that'sshootin'!Youbetter run for sheriff.""I had n't ought to 'a' done it when I knowed th' second got him—but he kept a-comin' an' I was a-thinkin' of Buck. Come on, let's get goin'." He mounted and waited impatiently for Tex, who was still standing beside his horse as if unwilling to leave the scene. "His pot-shootin' is over, so let's start back.""Uh-huh," muttered Tex, still lost in thought. Hopalong waited, having acquired increased respect for his friend's brain capacity in the last few days."Hoppy, why did Dave ambush Buck an' have to run, just when he was goin' to skin Schatz for a pot of money?""Give it up," answered Hopalong."Well, why did n't Schatz turn up when everything was set for the play?""Got to pass again, Tex," was Hopalong's indulgent reply."Dave had plenty of chances to kill Buck—better chances than that one—an' no need to run, if he was careful. Th' Twin River trail is travelled some—it was shore risky—no time to waste in Wayback waitin' for Schatz after that, huh?""Mebby th' kid did n't get it right," suggested Hopalong.Tex nodded his head convincingly. "Yes, he did. Told a straight story. Hoppy, Dave knew Schatz was n't comin'. Hoppy, I got—I got a feelin'—Hoppy, what 'll you bet Dave ain't got th' money right now?""By G—d!" exclaimed Hopalong, staring at his friend, his mind racing along the scent like a hound to the kill. "By G—d!" he repeated, softly, as he dropped from the saddle and became hidden in the crevice. "No money, Tex; only a few—""Where's his horse?" demanded Tex, eagerly."Yo 'regoin' to run for sheriff," came the retort, and Hopalong followed the track of Dave's horse and turned into the ravine, out of sight of Tex, who waited impatiently.Tex was surprised at the result of the quest when a crazy man came buck-jumping into sight, yelling like an Indian and frantically waving a tightly grasped saddle pad of sacking. He would have come out with more dignity if the money had been his, but belonging as it did to his old foreman, the big-hearted man who had been for so long a time on the verge of despair and defeat, allowed himself the luxury of free expression to the bubbling joy within him."Come on, Tex!" he cried. "Th' h—l with goin' back—we 'll take a chance of meetin' th' Dutchman as Dave Owens' personal executors an' ambassadors. If Schatz has got a wad like this, he 's th' man I want to see. Come on! We 'll bust all Montana records for hold-ups—come on, you wise old devil!""Now who 's goin' to be sheriff?" grinned Tex, and then allowed himself the relief of working off his joy in a short jig, which informed him that Dave had made a hit; not a bull's eye, but a hit just the same."Here, you drunk Apache," Hopalong cried, "let's count up an' see what we got."Had any one drifted along a minute later he would have been torn between duty and discretion: duty to provide a sane guardian in himself for that part of the Government treasury strayed to the wilds of these western mountains, and discretion in facing the two capable-looking highwaymen who sat crossed-legged on the trail with guns on the ground close to their hands."Um-m-m," murmured Tex, who knew of the size of the joint account. "Schatz is lucky if he 's got carfare—th' capital of th' Peters-McAllister-Schatz combine is spread reckless under our gloatin' eyes; all except th' few miserable bills that Dave spent. Come on, you greedy hog—we 'll let Schatz have his two-bits an' be glad to get rid of him. I 'd hate to shoot any man as fat as him—no tellin' what 'd happen. Stick yore roll where it won't jar loose, load that right-hand gun, an' see that nobody holds you up.""I 've allus been plumb a-scared o' hold-ups," grinned Hopalong, facetiously. "We all was. Lead costs money, an' there ain't no use wastin' it." The grin disappeared and a hard look focussed in his clear eyes as he thought of what a lovely time any hold-up squad would have when Buck's money was at stake.They mounted and rode away down the pass. As they came to the first bend, Tex glanced back and saw Big Gray peacefully cropping the scanty vegetation along the trail by the ravine. He was without bridle or saddle and Tex glanced covertly at the happy man at his side who could put five bullets in a falling enemy without a pang, and immediately after release a limping horse so that it could live and grow strong, to roam free among the mountains.Hopalong rolled both guns at once to end the celebration, the bullets striking a rock down the trail as fast as one could count and at intervals as regular as the hammer-stroke of a striking clock. To a man who looked upon a gun only as a weapon to be pointed and discharged at an object, this would have been sufficiently wonderful, but to a real gun-man, one acquainted with the delicacy of manipulation and absolute precision required to effect this result, it was far more wonderful. There are many good gun-men who never have acquired this art, and the danger of practising it is enough to deter most men from attempting it. To hold a six-shooter by a finger slipped through the trigger guard and make it spin around like a pinwheel, firing it every time the muzzle swung out and away from the body, is risky; and when two guns are going at once, it is trebly risky, while accuracy is almost impossible. Hopalong was accurate, so was Johnny, but the latter could work only one gun. Tex, being something of a master of gun-play, was capable of appreciating the feat at its true worth and his eyes glowed at the exhibition. To him came the memory of a day far back in the years when this dexterity had worked to his dishonor, yet it brought with it no malice and it was with the deep affection that a man has for a man friend—and usually for only one—that he playfully advised his companion to "load 'em up again." "Hoppy, there 's only one hand I ever see that I 'm more afraid of than that 'n o' yourn," he remarked.Hopalong looked at him in mild surprise: "Whose is that?" he asked."Yore other one," and Tex grinned at his jest.CHAPTER XXVIIPOINTS OF THE COMPASSThe long-slanting shadows found Hopalong and Tex far from Lone Tree Pass, riding straight for the Double Y ranch. Their chase after Dave had taken them well to the west of south and they had concluded to keep the horses and equipment and strike for the ranch. As Hopalong sagely remarked: "Eighty dollars is eighty dollars, Tex, but these here two bronchs 'pear to me purty good stock; besides, what's eighty dollars 'longside the money-bag I 'm a-sittin' on?" and he eyed, complacently, the bloated gunny-sack that hid its wealth under so innocent an exterior.They went ahead with that unerring instinct of the plainsman whose sense of direction seems positively uncanny to a tenderfoot, especially if the tenderfoot has ever been lost. There was no sign of a trail nor did they expect to see one, until they struck the Big Moose, north of the Reservation. This in itself was a source of gratification to them; they were quite content to meet with no one and all they asked was to be let severely alone until such time as the money was turned over to Buck and they should cease to be responsible for it.The stumbling of the tired horses led them reluctantly to make camp. Hopalong was loath to be away from Mary longer than was necessary; only the grim determination to get Buck's money to him with as little risk as possible had decided him to ride to the ranch instead of taking the train from X——, which would have been hours quicker. They had discussed this matter, even to the thinking of a possible train hold-up, and Hopalong expressed his very decided preference for the open. "I was in a train hold-up once," he told Tex, "an' seven of th' boys was n't none too many to break it up. Skinny got plugged—not bad—but it might be us this time, an' it might be a whole lot worse."He entertained Tex with the story while they made their simple preparations for their supper. Tex listened with the ear of a good listener, giving voice to his amusement, or endorsement of an action, or profanely consigning the whole troupe of train robbers to that region where go the "many who are called but not chosen." But all the while, though interested in the tale which concerned so many of his old friends, his analytical mind was pondering over the reason of Dave's action: How had he got the money from Schatz? Why had no one seen Schatz in Wayback? Where had the transfer of the money been made from Schatz to Dave? What had happened to change the plans of the fake hold-up, when Dave was to relieve Schatz of the money? His busy mind approached the riddle from many angles, as in the dark of night, a man with a lantern might cover a big stretch of country, searching everywhere for the track which would lead him to the finding of a hidden treasure. Farther and farther afield went Tex, examining, comparing, and rejecting every possibility that presented itself to his inward vision. Disappointed at the failure of his efforts to discover the solution, he cast from his mind all his useless speculation and adopted the slower but surer method which he should have tried at first: He put himself in the place of Dave—little by little he cast off his own personality and changed to that of the other, picturing to himself the effect upon Dave's cupidity when told of the part he was to play in the stealing of the money. So sensitive was his intelligence, so receptive to the shadowy suggestions that beckoned to him, perhaps from that lonely, unmarked grave beside the upper waters of the Little Jill, that presently his eyes began to gleam, his lips parted, and he stretched out his hand to Hopalong in unconscious emphasis. "Th' gunny sack, Hoppy! Where did he get th' gunny sack?"The ghost of Schatz smiled. Tex was a man after his own heart.Tex's abstraction had not escaped Hopalong. The end of his tale reached, he had put away the balance of the food, seen to the secure picketing of the two horses, put out the fire by the simple expedient of kicking over it sufficient sand, and had arranged the saddles in such a way that they completely hid the sack and could not be disturbed without arousing both him and Tex. From time to time he glanced at his silent companion, smiling to himself at the sight of such complete absorption. He could see himself over again in Tex, who was almost as old a man, recalling how he had been wont to ponder on the probable movements of an enemy and the pleasure he took, after a victory, in reviewing what had gone before and checking the mistakes and the successes in his reasoning. He wondered idly why it had lost its attraction for him and he concluded, with a whimsical grin, that marriage gave a man other things to think about.But however lost Hopalong might be to inward speculation, no outward manifestation of the unusual or unlooked-for failed to appeal to his always active and alert senses. The pipe he had been smoking contentedly was held between his fingers, out and almost cold, his head was bent to one side and he was listening intently. He put his head to the ground and then arose to his feet, his ear turned to the stray breeze that was bringing to him faint and disagreeable sounds. When Tex's hand went out to him and Tex's voice broke in upon those barely audible sounds, he grasped the hand and gripped it hard to enjoin silence. Tex listened with all his ears but the ground noises had ceased and he was not high enough to have the advantage of the wind that was vexing Hopalong's hearing. Hopalong silently dragged him to his feet; they stood thus for a few seconds and then the look they turned upon each other was pregnant with significance."Makin' quite a noise," said Hopalong. "An' we ain't near th' trail yet. What do you make of it?""Dunno," answered Tex. "Had n't ought to be a man within twenty miles of us, Hoppy, 'less it's a Injun—an' them's no Injuns. Sounds to me like singin'.""Same here," agreed Hopalong. "Can't be a drive herd, can it?""Not as I knows of. No herd ever come this way since th' railroad put through, an' then they stuck to th' trail.""We got to find out, Tex," declared Hopalong, decisively. "Can't roost with a noisy bunch of coyotes like them runnin' 'round an' howlin' for gore.""I 'll go, Hoppy," said Tex, "an' if I ain't back in an hour, you take both cayuses an' hike out for th' ranch.""An' leave you afoot?" asked Hopalong. "Not by a d—n sight.""You must, Hoppy. I got a reputation that 'll serve me with either honest men or thieves. I can't come to no harm. 'Tother way, you might get hurt. Two of us can't get away on them bronchs, they did too much to-day already. You 'll have to go at a walk, if you do go. 'Course I don't stop with that bunch 'less I has to. It's that bag I 'm thinkin' about, Hoppy. If I has to stop, you want to put as much ground as you can between them an' you. I 'm d—d glad they did n't see our fire.""All right, Tex. I gives you an hour. 'Tain't more 'n a mile. Get a-goin'."Tex started away and Hopalong began to get ready for a possible flight. Even if Tex did return they might decide that another location for their camp would be healthier. As he fastened the saddles to the two animals they each turned and looked at him with a disgust as expressive as if spoken.Tex made for the spot from which the sounds had come, walking easily but silently, his form a mere shadow in the star-lit night and invisible on the lower levels, to which he carefully kept, at a distance of two hundred yards. At the end of ten minutes he was able to distinguish words and knew that Hoppy's and his surmise had been correct: they had heard the singing of night riders around a herd. It was the un-called-for presence of a herd in this vicinity which, more than all else, had led Tex to insist upon the reconnoitre being left to him. "Honest men or thieves," he had said. He was very doubtful of finding honest men. Only the condition of the horses had checked him from advising a departure on suspicion.He was skulking along now, bent double; in his hand, the blade lying along his arm, was a knife such as few men in the West carried at that day and in the use of which Tex was unusually expert. It was entirely characteristic of him that he should possess such a weapon: silence in action is desired by the worst class of man, and Tex had been of that class before the enforced association of better men and the heroically magnanimous action of an opponent had changed him to the man he was. He slunk forward with the stealthy prowl of a wolf, glancing to right and left as he went, hoping to sight the camp of the cattlemen and get near enough without being seen, to learn what he had come to find out. He dropped flat to earth as a sudden snort startled him: he had come upon the herd without knowing it. A disquieted animal sprang to its feet and did not lie down again until the soothing voice of the herder was raised. The song floated down the wind and Tex listened as well as the cow:"'Now then, young men, don't be melancholy;Just see, like me, if you can't be jolly;If anything goes wrong with meI never sulk nor pout;In fact I am and always wasThe merriest girl that's out.'"If the cow were soothed it was quite otherwise with Tex: his hair almost bristled as the rider went past, near enough for the heavy knife to have sped through the air and sunk haft-deep between his shoulders. "Chatter Spence!" sprang to Tex's lips. "Who's he driving for?" a question that he was still asking himself when another herder neared him, whose choice of lullaby was probably influenced by that of his companion, for he was calling out in most lugubrious voice:'Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-night,Comin' out to-night, comin' out to-night?Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-nightTo dance by th' light of th' moon?'"It's all wrong," the singer broke off to say in a sing-song voice, that, as far as the cattle were concerned, had all the effect of a melody. "It's all wrong," he repeated. "There ain't no moon. 'To dance by th' light of th' stars,'" he corrected, and then: "Gentlemen, I rises to a question of order. I don't want to dance. I 'm too blasted sore to dance—I 'm too sore to be a-sittin' on this cross-eyed, rat-tailed, flea-bitten son-of-a-dog, too; an' if I ain't relieved pretty soon, Shanghai is a-goin' to hear—" his voice trailed away and the words were no longer distinguishable.Tex cautiously sat up. "That's Argue Bennett. And Shanghai is with them. Why, d—n it! There must be a whole brood of Ike's chickens roosting around here. I 'm going to find them, even if I miss Hoppy in doing it."He started to arise and back away before the first singer should approach again, only to drop back into his former prone position at the sound of a third singer, coming from his right. Bennett and Spence heard him too and were more than ready to resign the herd by the time he and his companion arrived. Bennett did not hesitate to announce his bitter condemnation of the way things were being done."That you, Ship?" he called."That's me," came the answer."Shore it's you," agreed Bennett, in sarcastic acknowledgment. "I 'd a' bet every cow I own it's you. An' I goes on record as bettin' every cowyouown that Cracker is a-ridin' 'longside you. Do I win?""You win with yore own stock but I objects to you winnin' with mine. Itmighta' been Shanghai.""Yes, itmight; but if it was I 'd a' dropped dead from surprise. What I want to know is: what call has Shanghai got to hold down all th' soft snaps? Is he any better'n we are? Echo answers no—Echo bein' Chatter Spence, who has n't got pride enough to disagree with a hen.""Aw, what's eatin' you! This ain't no regular drive. An' did you ever know Shanghai to get left on a deal? How'd we ever got through th' Cyclone if it hadn't been for Shanghai? You make me tired. Did you ever know a herd to get over th' ground so fast? Been you, we 'd be some're near Big Moose right now. You leave Shanghai alone an' we 'll have th' herd in our pockets afore Peters knows they 're gone. Nice little bunch, too. Go an' get yore chuck an' you 'll feel better. 'Jennie, my own true loved one, Wait till th' clouds roll by'"—he rode on to circle the herd."Did you ever hear such a pill? He thinks nobody knows nothin' but Shanghai. What do you say, Cracker?""Well, I kind o' sides with Ship. We ain't done as much as Shanghai, if it comes to that, 'ceptin' night herd."H—l! I 'm wastin' my breath talkin' to you. Come on, Chatter, we—why, th' greedy hog 's gone a'ready." Bennett made haste to get back to camp. He knew the supplies to be none too plentiful. So did Chatter Spence.Tex stole away as silently as he had come, leaving the cattle-thieves happy in their ignorance of his discovery. He pushed himself hard on his return, fearful of having overstayed the time. Hopalong was waiting for him, however, and listened to his news with quiet interest."Buck's cows, Hoppy," was Tex's greeting, as he arrived on the run. "We got to get 'em but it's one sweet little job. Old Ship o' State is a holy terror in a row; Chatter Spence ain't bad, an' Argue Bennett an' Cracker impressed me as bein' good men to have around. But th' one we got to watch out for is Shanghai. He never falls down an' it would n't surprise me none to know he was watchin' them four same as I was. There's two of 'em ridin' herd an' three in camp. How do we go at it?""Got to get th' two night-ridin'. Tie 'em up an' th' other three is easy. Hol' on a minute till I get th' bank."Ship o' State was beginning the twenty-seventh stanza in the melodious history of an incorrigible reprobate who deserved death in every one of them, when he was utterly confounded to hear a voice, almost at his ear, command him to "throw up his hands an' climb down of 'n that cayuse,pronto." Contrary to what all his friends would have expected him to do, he obeyed the command instantly and to the letter. He was relieved of his gun and was being very effectually secured when the strangely quavering voice of Cracker was heard and came near. Ship eyed his captor in wonder. If Cracker were to be captured in the same manner, then this was the coolest man in the country. Nearer and nearer came the voice until Ship actually found himself worrying over the narrowness of the margin of safety. It was not until Cracker went by that he understood. The grotesque shape could only be accounted for in one way: Cracker's captor was straddling the same pony.It was just when Ship had reached this conclusion that a very unpleasant bunch of rags was thrust into his mouth and he was lifted and thrown face down across the back of his horse. Hopalong got into the saddle and they rode away from the herd. They had not gone far before another horseman joined them and Ship could hear the singing Cracker as he circled the herd. "There's three of 'em anyway," was his thought, wherein he was wrong. Cracker, with his hands trussed high behind his back and his feet hobbled, was stumbling slowly along with the threat in his memory that if he stopped singing until he was told, his head stood a good chance of being separated from the rest of his carcass, when he would never be able to sing again; and the further information that, if the herd should stampede, he was in a fair way to be crushed to a pulp. The latter he knew to be true and he was equally convinced that the other would be quite likely to take place.Fifty yards from the herd, Ship was quietly dumped to the ground. Far enough away from him the horses were picketed and two forms crept carefully upon the three men in camp.Dark as it was, there was no difficulty in finding two of the three. Spence and Bennett, the latter agreeably surprised to find that Shanghai had depleted the general treasury to the extent of one cow, had both eaten a large and satisfying meal; their hunger appeased, weariness had asserted itself in double force and nothing less than a determined kick would have awakened either of them. But Hopalong and Tex prowled around looking for Shanghai without success.Shanghai was living up to his reputation. Having made his plans and given orders to insure their carrying out, he then stayed around and saw it done. Argue Bennett might grumble to the others but he knew the futility, as also the danger, of grumbling to Shanghai. When his two subordinates had eaten their fill and gone to sleep, Shanghai still sat hunched before the dying embers of the fire, smoking a meditative pipe. When the smoke ceased to float lazily from his nostrils he knocked the warm ashes onto the palm of his hand, got to his feet and slipped quietly away from the camp.Any one who knew Shanghai well would have reasoned that he was probably going to look over the herd because he started away in the opposite direction. Going straight to his objective point was entirely too elemental for Shanghai. He fetched a wide circle before drawing near the herd, his approach being unheralded and made with the suspicious caution which marked all his movements. He listened inattentively to the husky voice of Cracker who was mourning the demise of somebody named Brown, and moved a little nearer. Presently he became vaguely uneasy at the silence of old Ship-o'-State. It was not the lack of song on Ship's part that troubled Shanghai—the cattle were resting easy enough—but where was he? When Cracker came around again Shanghai was near enough to see him and he craned his neck in wonder at the sight: Cracker on his two feet, staggering along like a man about three whiskeys from oblivion, and Ship off post. Here was something very wrong and Shanghai cursed softly to think how far away his horse was. What in blazes made him come afoot, anyway? He started back to camp to repair the oversight and to have Chatter and Argue behind him before making an investigation of Cracker's astonishing preference for night-herding on foot.His descent upon the camp would have been creditable to an Apache. First making sure of his horse and leaving him in shape for instant departure, he circled the two sleeping forms, viewing them from all sides. There was something wrong. Shanghai did not know what it was but the figures of his two companions seemed actually to exhale menace and the longer he hesitated the stronger the feeling became. Shanghai stole quietly back to his horse, mounted and rode off with the settled conviction that sun-up was the proper time for investigating these unusual circumstances and that the proper spot was several miles distant from below the sky-line of some convenient knoll.At the unmistakable sound of retreating hoofbeats the figures in camp came to life. They sat up and listened and then Tex looked at Hoppy with frank disapprobation. "Hoppy, my way was best," he declared. Hopalong nodded, in silent agreement, and Tex continued: "I been a-hearin' considerable talk about this here Shanghai an' I 'm bound to say I believe all I hears. D—n if he ain't got second sight."Hopalong nodded again. "Let's round up th' rest of th' roosters, anyhow. We got four, an' four's a plenty to take care of.""Shore is," admitted Tex. "Let's bring 'em in an' hog-tie 'em. Them cows would n't move for anythin' 'less 'n a Norther after th' way they 've come across country."A half hour later Ike's four pets were lying side by side in camp, trussed to the point of immovability and all apparently, in spite of their discomfort, taking advantage of the opportunity to secure the sleep they so much needed after their unsuccessful exertions."Hoppy," said Tex, "I think that with that Shanghai party still runnin' at large, it 'd be some wise to split up that wealth. Better take a chance of losin' half of it than all of it. What you think?""Same here," agreed Hopalong. He opened the sack and dumped out the packages, dividing them roughly into two parts with a sweep of his hand, and proceeded to rip up the sack, preparatory to making two parcels of the money."'With milk an' honey blest,'" faltered a voice and they turned to find Argue Bennett's eyes almost starting from his head at the sight he beheld."Playin' 'possum, eh? It'd do you no harm to stretch hemp right now," and Tex's meditative air was fringed with ferocity."No offence, Comin', no offence. You woke me movin'. Is that what Dave got away with?""Yes—an' there won't no more Daves get away with it, you can bet all th' cows you own on that.""An' me a-riskin' my neck rustlin' that bunch when all that beautiful wealth was a-leavin' th' country easy an' graceful an' just a-shoutin' to be brought back. Excuse me, Comin'. I ain't got no call to talk. I reckon I never did talk. Th' best I ever done since I was born is bray."Thus it came about that Shanghai suffered the acute misery of seeing his four-footed fortune headed back the way it had come. Not that he lost heart all at once. After some hours of following he had decided that a bold stroke might put him again in possession and was perfecting the details of the stratagem his ready mind conceived, when a sudden check was given by a rapidly approaching cloud of dust from the northwest. The check became check-mate when the useful field-glasses disclosed to his pained vision the hilarious meeting that took place. A certain jaunty carriage, a characteristic swagger that did not forsake him even in the saddle, made Shanghai look hard at the leader of the new-comers and suspect Cock Murray. And his suspicion was well founded. Cock Murray had already redeemed his promise to Buck and it may be pardoned him if in the joy of his heart, his swagger became so pronounced as to disclose his personality across some miles of country.Shanghai closed his glasses and moved slowly to his horse. "Well, it had to be," he conceded, philosophically. "An' I reckon it's about time I pulled my freight."
* * * * *
When the east-bound accommodation pulled into X—— at dusk two men jumped off and started toward the nearest hotel. The proprietor of the Come-Again assigned them a room and spoke of supper, to which they intimated their ability to do justice to "anythin' you got." As they turned away carelessly toward the "washroom" one of them halted: "We're expectin' a friend," and he gave a concise description of the third man.
"Why, he 's upstairs now—first door to th' left at th' top of th' flight—got in this afternoon. But he said he did n't want to be bothered none," hastily warned the proprietor.
"That's right—you can let that go for th' three of us," replied Hopalong, smiling.
"Said his nerves was all stampeded," commented the host, dubiously.
Hopalong winked, grinning: "Did n't act none that-a-way, did he?"
"Oh, Itoldhim somebody was stringin' him," laughed the proprietor.
"Reckon we 'll go up an' hustle him down to his feed," Tex remarked, leading the way, with Hopalong stepping on his heels.
The proprietor studied the three names on his register, and spoke to the horseman, who now was playing solitaire in a negligent way. "Wonder what's up, Dick?"
"Dunno," replied Dick, holding aloft a queen of hearts and studying the layout. "Reckon you better let this deal go by. Keep yore chips out, Joe; don't like th' looks of th' pair of 'em. That red-head looks like a bad customer, if his corn 's stepped on. Mebby their nervous friend has did somethin' they don't like."
The knocking upstairs now reverberated through the house and a peevish voice threatened destruction to the door unless it opened speedily.
"That's th' red-head," remarked Dick. "What did I tell you?"
The proprietor hastened from behind the bar and went up the steep, narrow stairs with undignified haste. "Don't bust that door!" he cried. "Don't you bust it!"
"Aw, close yore face!" growled a voice, and Dick nodded his head wisely. "Both of 'em bad customers," he mumbled.
There was a crash and the sound of splintering wood, followed by disgusted exclamations. Dick arose and sauntered up to see the show: the host was nervously clutching a bill large enough to pay for several broken doors. The red-head was looking out of the open window while the other man rapidly searched the room.
"He dropped his belongings first," audibly commented the man at the window. "Thenhedropped." He turned quickly to the proprietor: "Did he have a horse?"
"Yes; bought one first thing after he registered."
"We want one apiece," crisply demanded Hopalong, "with speed, bottom, an' sand. Got 'em? No? Then where can we get 'em to-night?"
"What'd he do?" blundered the host, rubbing the bill with tender fingers and looking for information instead of giving it.
"He dropped out th' winder," sharply replied Tex. "We never stand for that."
"Never, not under no circumstances," endorsed his friend. "It allus riles us. How 'bout them horses?"
"I reckon I can fix you up," offered Dick. "I sold him th' hoss he 's got. He wanted th' best in town, which he didn't get for bein' too blamed flip. But he paid for it, just th' same. I got a roan an' a bay that 'll run Big Gray off 'n his feed an' his feet. If yo 're comin' back this way I 'll buy 'em back again at a reduction—I 'd like to keep them two. I don't reckon I 'll get no chance to buy back th' other."
The horseman fell in behind the descending procession and lined up with it against the bar on Hopalong's treat. Then they left the proprietor to swear at the cook while they departed for the corral.
Dick chuckled. "Th' gray I sold yore missin' friend carried Bad Hawkins from Juniper Creek to Halfway in fourteen hours—ten miles an hour. Th' roan an' th' bay did it in ten hours even—which puts a period after th' last words of Hawkins. Bad Hawkins weighed less 'n you," he said to Tex, "an' th' gray shore sprains a laig a-doin' it. It don't show—that is, not when he was sold it did n't. That feller was too d—d flip—one of them Smart Alecks that stirs my bile somethin' awful."
Tex wearied of his voice: "Yore discernment is very creditable," he replied, with becoming gravity.
The horseman glanced at him out of the corner of his eye: "Yes—I reckon so," he hazarded.
When they reached the corral the two strangers looked in critically. Nearly a score of horses were impounded, among them several bays and roans. Hopalong pointed to one of the roans. "That looks like th' horse," he remarked, quietly, at the instant his friend singled out the bay.
"Them 's th' hosses—they 'll run th' liver out of Big Gray even if his laig does hold out," smiled their owner, glad that his first customer had not been as wise as either of these two men. The horses were cut out and accepted on the spot.
"How much?" demanded Hopalong, brusquely.
"Eighty apiece."
"That's a lot of money. But we got to have 'em. How 'bout saddles? We can do without 'em if we has to, but we ain't hankerin' very strong to do it."
"I got a couple of good ones," responded the horseman. Then he yielded to a sudden burst of generosity. "Tell you what I 'll do—I 'll sell you them saddles for forty apiece an' when I gets 'em back, you gets yore money back. An' if you don't kill th' hosses, we 'll have a little dicker over them, too. I would n't sell 'em only for a good price an' you won't have nothin' to complain about if I buys 'em back again."
"Yo 're a white man," responded Hopalong. "Now we all oughta have a drink to bind th' deal. An' I reckon supper 'll go good, too. We 'll be right glad to have you join us." The invitation was accepted with becoming alacrity.
After the meal, and a game of cards, during which both punchers had learned much about the surrounding country, they went on a tour of investigation. They had discovered that the only way south likely to be taken by a man not perfectly familiar with the several little-known mountain trails, was through Lone Tree Pass. A walk about the town, before turning in, disclosed to them the kind and amount of Dave's purchases: these showed that he expected to be in the saddle more than a few hours. Returning to the hotel they went at once to their room. Sitting on the edge of the bed Hopalong asked a question: "You 've got me on t' lay of th' land in this part of the country, Tex. Why do you figger he 'll head south?"
Tex blew out the light and settled himself snugly in his bed before replying. "Because anybody else would figger he 'd strike north for th' Canadian line, or up to Helena an' West, where a man can get lost easy. I 've sort of palled with Dave, an' I know th' skunk like a ABC book. His trail will show us th' way, but it won't tell us about th' country ahead of us. I allus like to know what I 'm goin' up against when I can."
"Shore; good-night," muttered Hopalong, and in a moment more soft snores vibrated out through the open window, to be mildly criticised by the cook in the cook shack below.
Down in the bar-room the proprietor, having said good-night to his last customer, pushed the column of figures away with a sigh of satisfaction and rested his chin on his hand while he reviewed the events of the day. "Why," he muttered, pugnaciously, coming out of his reveries and pouring himself a liberal drink on the strength of the day's profits; "why, now I know what that coyote wanted his room at the back of the house for—good thing I got th' money ahead of time! Well, he 's got a h—l of a lot of trouble chasin' him, anyhow, th' beat."
* * * * *
With three days' rations fastened to their saddles Hopalong and Tex whirled away from the Come-Again as the first streak of gray appeared in the eastern sky and after a short distance at full speed to take the devilishness out of their mounts, they slowed to a lope. Heading straight for the Pass, they picked up Dave's trail less than two miles from town and then settled into a steady gait that ate up the miles without punishing their horses. They had not made any mistake in their mounts for they were powerful and tough, spirited enough to possess temper and courage without any undue nervous waste, and the way they covered ground, with apparently no effort, brought a grim smile to Hopalong's face.
"I don't reckon I 'll do no swappin' back, Tex," he chuckled. "I 've allus wanted a cayuse like this 'n, an' I reckon he 'll stay bought, even at th' price."
"They look good—but I 'll tell you more about 'em by night," Tex replied. He glanced ahead with calm assurance: "I don't figger he's so very far, Hoppy?"
"Why no, Tex; he could n't ride hard last night, not over strange country—it was darker'n blazes. We did n't leave very long after him when you figger it in miles, an' he ain't reckonin'shoreon bein' chased. He drops out th' winder an' sneaks that way 'cause he ain't takin' no chances.
"We 've got th' best cayuses, we 've had more sleep than him, we know this game better, we 're tougher, an' we can get more out of a cayuse than he can. I reckon we ought to get sight of him afore sundown, an' I would n't be surprised if we saw him shortly after noon. We 'll shore get him 'bout noon, if he 's had any sleep."
"I 'd ruther get him this side of Lone Tree Pass—I ain't hankerin' for no close chase through th' mountains after a cuss like Dave," Tex replied. "What do you say 'bout lettin' out another link?"
Hopalong watched his horse for a minute, glanced critically at his companion's, and tightened the grip of his knees. "That feller said a hundred an' forty in ten hours—how far is that pass? Well, might as well find out what this cayuse can do—come on, let 'em go!"
Pounding along at a gait which sent the wind whistling past their ears they dipped into hollows, shot over rises, and rounded turns side by side, stirrups touching and eyes roving as they searched the trail ahead. The turns they made were not as many as those in the trail they followed, for often they cut straight across from one turn to another. The ability to do this brought a shrewd smile to Hopalong's thin lips.
"Let his cayuse pick its way, Tex—told you he could n't go fast last night. Bet a dollar we come to where he slept afore long—an' say! luck 's with us, shore. Notice how he was bearin'—a little off th' course all th' time—that gray of his must a' come from som'ers up north. He had to correct that when he could see where th' Pass lay—come on, we 'll try another cut-off, an' a big one."
"Yo 're right—we 'll gain a hour, easy," Tex replied as they shot off at a tangent for the distant mountain range on a line for the Pass. The sun was two hours higher when Tex laughed aloud, stretching his hand across his friend's horse and pointing some distance ahead of him. "There's th' track again, Hoppy," he cried, "you was right—see it?"
Hopalong waited until they swept up along the fresh trail before he replied and the reply was characteristic of him. "Pushin' th' gray hard, Tex. Them toe prints are purty deep—an' d—d if th' gray ain't havin' trouble with his bad laig! See that off fore hoofmark? See how it ain't as deep as its mate? Th' gray's favorin' that laig, an' only for one reason: it hurts him more when he don't. Move away a little, Tex; don't do no good to be bunched so close where there 's so much cover. He ain't a long way off, judgin' from them tracks. We don't know that he ain't doubled back to pick us off as we near him."
Tex tightened his knee-grip and rowelled his spurs lightly along the side of his mount, darting ahead with Hopalong speeding up to catch him. It was a test to see how the horses were holding up and when the animals took up the new speed and held it with plenty of reserve strength, the two men let them go.
As they shot down a rough, sloping trail to a shallow creek, flowing noisily along the bottom of a wild arroyo, Hopalong looked ahead eagerly and called to Tex to slow down to a walk. Tex, surprised, obeyed and took the reins of the bay as Hopalong went ahead to cross the stream on foot. But Tex's surprise was only momentary; he quickly understood the reason for the play and he warmed to his sagacious friend while he admired his skill.
Hopalong waded the stream and looked carefully around on both side of the tracks where they left the water. Motioning Tex to come ahead, he grinned as the other obeyed. "Did n't want to splash no fresh water around here till I saw if th' water Dave splashed was all soaked up. It is; but th' spots is moist. An' another thing: see th' prints o' that hoof where he takes up an' sets down—where is he lame?"
"Shoulder," replied Tex with instant decision.
"Shore is. An' he 's been a-gettin' lamer every step. Bet he ain't an hour ahead, Tex."
"Won't take you—an' he 'll be above us all th' way till we cross th' top of th' range, so we better keep under cover as much as we can," Tex replied. "We 've trailed worse men than Dave, a whole lot worse, an' far better shots; but he ain't really due to miss twice in two days. Th' Pass ain't so far ahead now—there it is, with th' blasted pine stickin' up like a flag-pole. Half an hour more an' we 'll be in it."
Ahead of them, toiling up the Pass on a tired and limping horse rode Dave, not so fresh as he might have been with the four hours' sleep he had secured in the open at dawn. The night ride over strange, rough country had been hard and his rage at the shabby trick played upon him by the horse dealer had not helped him any. To win up to the point where success was almost his; and then to have a half-breed horse coper—one who had absolutely no connection with the game—threaten to defeat him! To fool all the players, to gain, as he thought, a big handicap and then to be delayed by a man who sought only to gain a little money and be well rid of a poor horse! Dave's temper was like that of a rattler hedged in by thorns and the rougher part of the mountain trail had been saturated with profanity. There was not much chance of meeting any one on that trail and by the time he reached a place where he could get another horse, the need for one would have gone. Let him see a horseman and he knew who would ride the horse. He struck the limping gray savagely as it flinched over a particularly rough part of the trail and he was growling and swearing as he rounded a turn in the Pass and came to a place where, by climbing a boulder just above him, he could get a good view of the way he had come. Dismounting, he made the climb and looked back over the trail. Miles of country were below him, the trail winding across it, hidden at times and then running on in plain view until some hill concealed it again. The sun was half down in the western sky and he swore again as he realized how much farther he should have been—how near the end of his ride.
"A hundred an' forty miles in ten hours!" he snarled, squirming back to descend to his horse. "No wonder Bad Hawkins got caught! Served th' d—n fool right; an' it 'd serve me right for being such a——" the words ceased and the speaker flattened himself to the rock as he peered intently at a hill far down the trail, waiting to be sure his eyes had not deceived him.
The slanting sun had made a fairyland of the rugged scenery, bathing the rocks until they seemed to glow, finding cunningly hidden quartz and crystals and turning them into points of flame. The fresh, clean green coat that Spring had thrown over the crags as if to hide them, softened the harsher tones and would have thrilled even Dave, who was sated with scenery, if it had not been for his temper and the desperate straits in which he found himself. He lay like one dead but for the straining eyes. An eagle, drifting carelessly across the blue, missed him in its sharp scrutiny, so well did his clothes blend with the tones of the rock.
"H—l!" he muttered, for far below him something moved out into the trail again where it emerged from behind the hill, and two mounted men came into sight, riding rapidly to take advantage of the short run of level country.
Dave could not make them out—they were only two men at that distance, but he wasted no time nor gave heed to any optimism. He wriggled backwards, dropped to the trail, and looked around for a place to hide his horse. Not seeing one at hand he mounted again and forced the limping animal forward until he saw a narrow ravine cut into the mountain side by the freshets of countless years. Leading the gray into this and around a turn in the wall, he picketed the animal and then hastened back, scurrying to and fro in search of a hiding place that would give him a view of the trail for the greatest distance. His mind worked as rapidly as his feet. The coming horsemen might be innocent of all knowledge of him or of his need. If so, he preferred to ride behind them. If they were in pursuit—and he could not believe it to be a mere coincidence that any but an enemy would be following him so close through Lone Tree Pass—they had not started from the town he had just quitted—unless they had traced him by telegraph! Dave cursed softly and settled himself a little more at ease in his ambush.
Hopalong and Tex, enjoying that friendship that sets no embarrassment on silence, rode forward side by side when the trail permitted it, grim, relentless, dogged. They represented that class of men who can pursue one thing to the exclusion of all tempting side leads, needing nothing but what they themselves can supply; who approach all duties with cool, level-headed precision and gain their goal without a thought of reward and with small regard for danger. Danger they had both met in all the forms it took on the range and trail, dance-hall and saloon; both had mastered it by the speed and certainty of their hands and guns, and neither found anything exciting or fearful in this game of follow and take; on the other hand it was tiresome to have to follow, and one man, at that. If some bold, daring stroke of strategy or a reckless dash could have been hoped for, it would have made the game interesting. So they jogged on toward the opening of the pass, taciturn and sombre, but with the cold patience of Indians.
The trail narrowed again and Tex took the lead. "Closer now," he remarked, more to himself than to his companion, whose reply was a grunt, presumed to be affirmative. When they entered the pass itself it was Hopalong who led, and to see him as he sat slouching in his saddle, apparently half asleep, one would have wondered that a man whose wariness was the basis of so many famed exploits could ride thus carelessly, allowing his horse to pick the way. But in the shadow of his straight-brimmed hat, two hard, keen eyes squinted through the narrow lids, among the wrinkles, and missed nothing that could be seen; under the faded red shirt sleeve was an arm ready for the lightning draw that had never yet been beaten, and the hand-worn butt of the heavy Colt rubbed softly against the belt-strap of its holster.
Hopalong rolled a cigarette and took advantage of the movement to speak: "Goin' back to Texas, Tex?"
"Why," replied Tex, pausing to reflect. "Why, I said as how I would to all yore boys, but I reckon mebby Buck needs me worse'n you do. What think?"
"Stay up here an' run for sheriff," was the crisp reply. "This country 's sick with crooks."
"Reckon so."
"Good place for undertakers, while th' boom is on," continued Hopalong, smiling grimly at the truth in his jest. He knew Tex Ewalt.
"Th' boom 'll be busted flat afore you go home," Tex responded. "It's fallin' now. Dave was its high-water mark."
They were riding side by side now and Hopalong growled a suggestion: "Go slow, Tex; mebby he 's holin' up on us, like he did on Buck. He ain't more 'n a million miles ahead of us now."
"Uh-huh; an' if he is he ought to get us easy in this place. Got to take a chance, anyhow. Gimme a match—Look out!"
As he spoke he hurled his horse against Hopalong's and his left arm dropped to his side with a bullet through it, while his right hand flashed to his hip, where a pungent cloud of smoke burst out to envelop his horse's head. Off his balance from the unexpected shock, Hopalong's shot went wide, but the next five, directed at Dave's head-long rush as he came crashing down through the underbrush, gave promise of better aim.
[image]As he spoke he hurled his horse against Hopalong's, while his right hand flashed to his hip
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As he spoke he hurled his horse against Hopalong's, while his right hand flashed to his hip
"I owed him that, anyhow," muttered Tex, his ears ringing from the fusillade so close to him. "An' I owed you th' play, Hoppy, ever since that day in th' brush—"
"You don't owe me nothin' now, Tex; that's as close as any in ten years," returned Hopalong. "Well, he showed hisself a d—d ambushin' snake just as we thought he would. He could a' got us both if his nerves had n't got th' chills an' fever. We was some careless!"
"We was a pair of blasted kids," Tex remarked. "Now what 'll we do with him? We can't take him back, an' buryin' in solid rock ain't been in my schoolin'."
"We can cover him with rocks, I reckon, but we ain't got time—besides, how'd he leave Buck?" demanded Hopalong sharply. "Why, he got you, Tex! Here, you close-mouthed fool, lemme fix that hole."
Tex stood quietly thoughtful until Hopalong had finished his task. "We 'll just chuck him off th' trail, Hoppy; then we won't have to answer no question or shoot sense into no thick skulls. How 'bout it?"
"Uh-huh, go ahead," grunted Hopalong and the two walked over, picked up the unresisting bulk and placed it in a fissure in the rock wall.
"By th' Lord!" swore Tex: "Five shots out of five when you got yore balance—that'sshootin'!Youbetter run for sheriff."
"I had n't ought to 'a' done it when I knowed th' second got him—but he kept a-comin' an' I was a-thinkin' of Buck. Come on, let's get goin'." He mounted and waited impatiently for Tex, who was still standing beside his horse as if unwilling to leave the scene. "His pot-shootin' is over, so let's start back."
"Uh-huh," muttered Tex, still lost in thought. Hopalong waited, having acquired increased respect for his friend's brain capacity in the last few days.
"Hoppy, why did Dave ambush Buck an' have to run, just when he was goin' to skin Schatz for a pot of money?"
"Give it up," answered Hopalong.
"Well, why did n't Schatz turn up when everything was set for the play?"
"Got to pass again, Tex," was Hopalong's indulgent reply.
"Dave had plenty of chances to kill Buck—better chances than that one—an' no need to run, if he was careful. Th' Twin River trail is travelled some—it was shore risky—no time to waste in Wayback waitin' for Schatz after that, huh?"
"Mebby th' kid did n't get it right," suggested Hopalong.
Tex nodded his head convincingly. "Yes, he did. Told a straight story. Hoppy, Dave knew Schatz was n't comin'. Hoppy, I got—I got a feelin'—Hoppy, what 'll you bet Dave ain't got th' money right now?"
"By G—d!" exclaimed Hopalong, staring at his friend, his mind racing along the scent like a hound to the kill. "By G—d!" he repeated, softly, as he dropped from the saddle and became hidden in the crevice. "No money, Tex; only a few—"
"Where's his horse?" demanded Tex, eagerly.
"Yo 'regoin' to run for sheriff," came the retort, and Hopalong followed the track of Dave's horse and turned into the ravine, out of sight of Tex, who waited impatiently.
Tex was surprised at the result of the quest when a crazy man came buck-jumping into sight, yelling like an Indian and frantically waving a tightly grasped saddle pad of sacking. He would have come out with more dignity if the money had been his, but belonging as it did to his old foreman, the big-hearted man who had been for so long a time on the verge of despair and defeat, allowed himself the luxury of free expression to the bubbling joy within him.
"Come on, Tex!" he cried. "Th' h—l with goin' back—we 'll take a chance of meetin' th' Dutchman as Dave Owens' personal executors an' ambassadors. If Schatz has got a wad like this, he 's th' man I want to see. Come on! We 'll bust all Montana records for hold-ups—come on, you wise old devil!"
"Now who 's goin' to be sheriff?" grinned Tex, and then allowed himself the relief of working off his joy in a short jig, which informed him that Dave had made a hit; not a bull's eye, but a hit just the same.
"Here, you drunk Apache," Hopalong cried, "let's count up an' see what we got."
Had any one drifted along a minute later he would have been torn between duty and discretion: duty to provide a sane guardian in himself for that part of the Government treasury strayed to the wilds of these western mountains, and discretion in facing the two capable-looking highwaymen who sat crossed-legged on the trail with guns on the ground close to their hands.
"Um-m-m," murmured Tex, who knew of the size of the joint account. "Schatz is lucky if he 's got carfare—th' capital of th' Peters-McAllister-Schatz combine is spread reckless under our gloatin' eyes; all except th' few miserable bills that Dave spent. Come on, you greedy hog—we 'll let Schatz have his two-bits an' be glad to get rid of him. I 'd hate to shoot any man as fat as him—no tellin' what 'd happen. Stick yore roll where it won't jar loose, load that right-hand gun, an' see that nobody holds you up."
"I 've allus been plumb a-scared o' hold-ups," grinned Hopalong, facetiously. "We all was. Lead costs money, an' there ain't no use wastin' it." The grin disappeared and a hard look focussed in his clear eyes as he thought of what a lovely time any hold-up squad would have when Buck's money was at stake.
They mounted and rode away down the pass. As they came to the first bend, Tex glanced back and saw Big Gray peacefully cropping the scanty vegetation along the trail by the ravine. He was without bridle or saddle and Tex glanced covertly at the happy man at his side who could put five bullets in a falling enemy without a pang, and immediately after release a limping horse so that it could live and grow strong, to roam free among the mountains.
Hopalong rolled both guns at once to end the celebration, the bullets striking a rock down the trail as fast as one could count and at intervals as regular as the hammer-stroke of a striking clock. To a man who looked upon a gun only as a weapon to be pointed and discharged at an object, this would have been sufficiently wonderful, but to a real gun-man, one acquainted with the delicacy of manipulation and absolute precision required to effect this result, it was far more wonderful. There are many good gun-men who never have acquired this art, and the danger of practising it is enough to deter most men from attempting it. To hold a six-shooter by a finger slipped through the trigger guard and make it spin around like a pinwheel, firing it every time the muzzle swung out and away from the body, is risky; and when two guns are going at once, it is trebly risky, while accuracy is almost impossible. Hopalong was accurate, so was Johnny, but the latter could work only one gun. Tex, being something of a master of gun-play, was capable of appreciating the feat at its true worth and his eyes glowed at the exhibition. To him came the memory of a day far back in the years when this dexterity had worked to his dishonor, yet it brought with it no malice and it was with the deep affection that a man has for a man friend—and usually for only one—that he playfully advised his companion to "load 'em up again." "Hoppy, there 's only one hand I ever see that I 'm more afraid of than that 'n o' yourn," he remarked.
Hopalong looked at him in mild surprise: "Whose is that?" he asked.
"Yore other one," and Tex grinned at his jest.
CHAPTER XXVII
POINTS OF THE COMPASS
The long-slanting shadows found Hopalong and Tex far from Lone Tree Pass, riding straight for the Double Y ranch. Their chase after Dave had taken them well to the west of south and they had concluded to keep the horses and equipment and strike for the ranch. As Hopalong sagely remarked: "Eighty dollars is eighty dollars, Tex, but these here two bronchs 'pear to me purty good stock; besides, what's eighty dollars 'longside the money-bag I 'm a-sittin' on?" and he eyed, complacently, the bloated gunny-sack that hid its wealth under so innocent an exterior.
They went ahead with that unerring instinct of the plainsman whose sense of direction seems positively uncanny to a tenderfoot, especially if the tenderfoot has ever been lost. There was no sign of a trail nor did they expect to see one, until they struck the Big Moose, north of the Reservation. This in itself was a source of gratification to them; they were quite content to meet with no one and all they asked was to be let severely alone until such time as the money was turned over to Buck and they should cease to be responsible for it.
The stumbling of the tired horses led them reluctantly to make camp. Hopalong was loath to be away from Mary longer than was necessary; only the grim determination to get Buck's money to him with as little risk as possible had decided him to ride to the ranch instead of taking the train from X——, which would have been hours quicker. They had discussed this matter, even to the thinking of a possible train hold-up, and Hopalong expressed his very decided preference for the open. "I was in a train hold-up once," he told Tex, "an' seven of th' boys was n't none too many to break it up. Skinny got plugged—not bad—but it might be us this time, an' it might be a whole lot worse."
He entertained Tex with the story while they made their simple preparations for their supper. Tex listened with the ear of a good listener, giving voice to his amusement, or endorsement of an action, or profanely consigning the whole troupe of train robbers to that region where go the "many who are called but not chosen." But all the while, though interested in the tale which concerned so many of his old friends, his analytical mind was pondering over the reason of Dave's action: How had he got the money from Schatz? Why had no one seen Schatz in Wayback? Where had the transfer of the money been made from Schatz to Dave? What had happened to change the plans of the fake hold-up, when Dave was to relieve Schatz of the money? His busy mind approached the riddle from many angles, as in the dark of night, a man with a lantern might cover a big stretch of country, searching everywhere for the track which would lead him to the finding of a hidden treasure. Farther and farther afield went Tex, examining, comparing, and rejecting every possibility that presented itself to his inward vision. Disappointed at the failure of his efforts to discover the solution, he cast from his mind all his useless speculation and adopted the slower but surer method which he should have tried at first: He put himself in the place of Dave—little by little he cast off his own personality and changed to that of the other, picturing to himself the effect upon Dave's cupidity when told of the part he was to play in the stealing of the money. So sensitive was his intelligence, so receptive to the shadowy suggestions that beckoned to him, perhaps from that lonely, unmarked grave beside the upper waters of the Little Jill, that presently his eyes began to gleam, his lips parted, and he stretched out his hand to Hopalong in unconscious emphasis. "Th' gunny sack, Hoppy! Where did he get th' gunny sack?"
The ghost of Schatz smiled. Tex was a man after his own heart.
Tex's abstraction had not escaped Hopalong. The end of his tale reached, he had put away the balance of the food, seen to the secure picketing of the two horses, put out the fire by the simple expedient of kicking over it sufficient sand, and had arranged the saddles in such a way that they completely hid the sack and could not be disturbed without arousing both him and Tex. From time to time he glanced at his silent companion, smiling to himself at the sight of such complete absorption. He could see himself over again in Tex, who was almost as old a man, recalling how he had been wont to ponder on the probable movements of an enemy and the pleasure he took, after a victory, in reviewing what had gone before and checking the mistakes and the successes in his reasoning. He wondered idly why it had lost its attraction for him and he concluded, with a whimsical grin, that marriage gave a man other things to think about.
But however lost Hopalong might be to inward speculation, no outward manifestation of the unusual or unlooked-for failed to appeal to his always active and alert senses. The pipe he had been smoking contentedly was held between his fingers, out and almost cold, his head was bent to one side and he was listening intently. He put his head to the ground and then arose to his feet, his ear turned to the stray breeze that was bringing to him faint and disagreeable sounds. When Tex's hand went out to him and Tex's voice broke in upon those barely audible sounds, he grasped the hand and gripped it hard to enjoin silence. Tex listened with all his ears but the ground noises had ceased and he was not high enough to have the advantage of the wind that was vexing Hopalong's hearing. Hopalong silently dragged him to his feet; they stood thus for a few seconds and then the look they turned upon each other was pregnant with significance.
"Makin' quite a noise," said Hopalong. "An' we ain't near th' trail yet. What do you make of it?"
"Dunno," answered Tex. "Had n't ought to be a man within twenty miles of us, Hoppy, 'less it's a Injun—an' them's no Injuns. Sounds to me like singin'."
"Same here," agreed Hopalong. "Can't be a drive herd, can it?"
"Not as I knows of. No herd ever come this way since th' railroad put through, an' then they stuck to th' trail."
"We got to find out, Tex," declared Hopalong, decisively. "Can't roost with a noisy bunch of coyotes like them runnin' 'round an' howlin' for gore."
"I 'll go, Hoppy," said Tex, "an' if I ain't back in an hour, you take both cayuses an' hike out for th' ranch."
"An' leave you afoot?" asked Hopalong. "Not by a d—n sight."
"You must, Hoppy. I got a reputation that 'll serve me with either honest men or thieves. I can't come to no harm. 'Tother way, you might get hurt. Two of us can't get away on them bronchs, they did too much to-day already. You 'll have to go at a walk, if you do go. 'Course I don't stop with that bunch 'less I has to. It's that bag I 'm thinkin' about, Hoppy. If I has to stop, you want to put as much ground as you can between them an' you. I 'm d—d glad they did n't see our fire."
"All right, Tex. I gives you an hour. 'Tain't more 'n a mile. Get a-goin'."
Tex started away and Hopalong began to get ready for a possible flight. Even if Tex did return they might decide that another location for their camp would be healthier. As he fastened the saddles to the two animals they each turned and looked at him with a disgust as expressive as if spoken.
Tex made for the spot from which the sounds had come, walking easily but silently, his form a mere shadow in the star-lit night and invisible on the lower levels, to which he carefully kept, at a distance of two hundred yards. At the end of ten minutes he was able to distinguish words and knew that Hoppy's and his surmise had been correct: they had heard the singing of night riders around a herd. It was the un-called-for presence of a herd in this vicinity which, more than all else, had led Tex to insist upon the reconnoitre being left to him. "Honest men or thieves," he had said. He was very doubtful of finding honest men. Only the condition of the horses had checked him from advising a departure on suspicion.
He was skulking along now, bent double; in his hand, the blade lying along his arm, was a knife such as few men in the West carried at that day and in the use of which Tex was unusually expert. It was entirely characteristic of him that he should possess such a weapon: silence in action is desired by the worst class of man, and Tex had been of that class before the enforced association of better men and the heroically magnanimous action of an opponent had changed him to the man he was. He slunk forward with the stealthy prowl of a wolf, glancing to right and left as he went, hoping to sight the camp of the cattlemen and get near enough without being seen, to learn what he had come to find out. He dropped flat to earth as a sudden snort startled him: he had come upon the herd without knowing it. A disquieted animal sprang to its feet and did not lie down again until the soothing voice of the herder was raised. The song floated down the wind and Tex listened as well as the cow:
"'Now then, young men, don't be melancholy;Just see, like me, if you can't be jolly;If anything goes wrong with meI never sulk nor pout;In fact I am and always wasThe merriest girl that's out.'"
"'Now then, young men, don't be melancholy;Just see, like me, if you can't be jolly;If anything goes wrong with meI never sulk nor pout;In fact I am and always wasThe merriest girl that's out.'"
"'Now then, young men, don't be melancholy;
Just see, like me, if you can't be jolly;
Just see, like me, if you can't be jolly;
If anything goes wrong with me
I never sulk nor pout;
I never sulk nor pout;
In fact I am and always was
The merriest girl that's out.'"
The merriest girl that's out.'"
If the cow were soothed it was quite otherwise with Tex: his hair almost bristled as the rider went past, near enough for the heavy knife to have sped through the air and sunk haft-deep between his shoulders. "Chatter Spence!" sprang to Tex's lips. "Who's he driving for?" a question that he was still asking himself when another herder neared him, whose choice of lullaby was probably influenced by that of his companion, for he was calling out in most lugubrious voice:
'Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-night,Comin' out to-night, comin' out to-night?Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-nightTo dance by th' light of th' moon?'
'Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-night,Comin' out to-night, comin' out to-night?Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-nightTo dance by th' light of th' moon?'
'Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-night,
Comin' out to-night, comin' out to-night?
Comin' out to-night, comin' out to-night?
Buffalo gals, are you comin' out to-night
To dance by th' light of th' moon?'
To dance by th' light of th' moon?'
"It's all wrong," the singer broke off to say in a sing-song voice, that, as far as the cattle were concerned, had all the effect of a melody. "It's all wrong," he repeated. "There ain't no moon. 'To dance by th' light of th' stars,'" he corrected, and then: "Gentlemen, I rises to a question of order. I don't want to dance. I 'm too blasted sore to dance—I 'm too sore to be a-sittin' on this cross-eyed, rat-tailed, flea-bitten son-of-a-dog, too; an' if I ain't relieved pretty soon, Shanghai is a-goin' to hear—" his voice trailed away and the words were no longer distinguishable.
Tex cautiously sat up. "That's Argue Bennett. And Shanghai is with them. Why, d—n it! There must be a whole brood of Ike's chickens roosting around here. I 'm going to find them, even if I miss Hoppy in doing it."
He started to arise and back away before the first singer should approach again, only to drop back into his former prone position at the sound of a third singer, coming from his right. Bennett and Spence heard him too and were more than ready to resign the herd by the time he and his companion arrived. Bennett did not hesitate to announce his bitter condemnation of the way things were being done.
"That you, Ship?" he called.
"That's me," came the answer.
"Shore it's you," agreed Bennett, in sarcastic acknowledgment. "I 'd a' bet every cow I own it's you. An' I goes on record as bettin' every cowyouown that Cracker is a-ridin' 'longside you. Do I win?"
"You win with yore own stock but I objects to you winnin' with mine. Itmighta' been Shanghai."
"Yes, itmight; but if it was I 'd a' dropped dead from surprise. What I want to know is: what call has Shanghai got to hold down all th' soft snaps? Is he any better'n we are? Echo answers no—Echo bein' Chatter Spence, who has n't got pride enough to disagree with a hen."
"Aw, what's eatin' you! This ain't no regular drive. An' did you ever know Shanghai to get left on a deal? How'd we ever got through th' Cyclone if it hadn't been for Shanghai? You make me tired. Did you ever know a herd to get over th' ground so fast? Been you, we 'd be some're near Big Moose right now. You leave Shanghai alone an' we 'll have th' herd in our pockets afore Peters knows they 're gone. Nice little bunch, too. Go an' get yore chuck an' you 'll feel better. 'Jennie, my own true loved one, Wait till th' clouds roll by'"—he rode on to circle the herd.
"Did you ever hear such a pill? He thinks nobody knows nothin' but Shanghai. What do you say, Cracker?"
"Well, I kind o' sides with Ship. We ain't done as much as Shanghai, if it comes to that, 'ceptin' night herd."
H—l! I 'm wastin' my breath talkin' to you. Come on, Chatter, we—why, th' greedy hog 's gone a'ready." Bennett made haste to get back to camp. He knew the supplies to be none too plentiful. So did Chatter Spence.
Tex stole away as silently as he had come, leaving the cattle-thieves happy in their ignorance of his discovery. He pushed himself hard on his return, fearful of having overstayed the time. Hopalong was waiting for him, however, and listened to his news with quiet interest.
"Buck's cows, Hoppy," was Tex's greeting, as he arrived on the run. "We got to get 'em but it's one sweet little job. Old Ship o' State is a holy terror in a row; Chatter Spence ain't bad, an' Argue Bennett an' Cracker impressed me as bein' good men to have around. But th' one we got to watch out for is Shanghai. He never falls down an' it would n't surprise me none to know he was watchin' them four same as I was. There's two of 'em ridin' herd an' three in camp. How do we go at it?"
"Got to get th' two night-ridin'. Tie 'em up an' th' other three is easy. Hol' on a minute till I get th' bank."
Ship o' State was beginning the twenty-seventh stanza in the melodious history of an incorrigible reprobate who deserved death in every one of them, when he was utterly confounded to hear a voice, almost at his ear, command him to "throw up his hands an' climb down of 'n that cayuse,pronto." Contrary to what all his friends would have expected him to do, he obeyed the command instantly and to the letter. He was relieved of his gun and was being very effectually secured when the strangely quavering voice of Cracker was heard and came near. Ship eyed his captor in wonder. If Cracker were to be captured in the same manner, then this was the coolest man in the country. Nearer and nearer came the voice until Ship actually found himself worrying over the narrowness of the margin of safety. It was not until Cracker went by that he understood. The grotesque shape could only be accounted for in one way: Cracker's captor was straddling the same pony.
It was just when Ship had reached this conclusion that a very unpleasant bunch of rags was thrust into his mouth and he was lifted and thrown face down across the back of his horse. Hopalong got into the saddle and they rode away from the herd. They had not gone far before another horseman joined them and Ship could hear the singing Cracker as he circled the herd. "There's three of 'em anyway," was his thought, wherein he was wrong. Cracker, with his hands trussed high behind his back and his feet hobbled, was stumbling slowly along with the threat in his memory that if he stopped singing until he was told, his head stood a good chance of being separated from the rest of his carcass, when he would never be able to sing again; and the further information that, if the herd should stampede, he was in a fair way to be crushed to a pulp. The latter he knew to be true and he was equally convinced that the other would be quite likely to take place.
Fifty yards from the herd, Ship was quietly dumped to the ground. Far enough away from him the horses were picketed and two forms crept carefully upon the three men in camp.
Dark as it was, there was no difficulty in finding two of the three. Spence and Bennett, the latter agreeably surprised to find that Shanghai had depleted the general treasury to the extent of one cow, had both eaten a large and satisfying meal; their hunger appeased, weariness had asserted itself in double force and nothing less than a determined kick would have awakened either of them. But Hopalong and Tex prowled around looking for Shanghai without success.
Shanghai was living up to his reputation. Having made his plans and given orders to insure their carrying out, he then stayed around and saw it done. Argue Bennett might grumble to the others but he knew the futility, as also the danger, of grumbling to Shanghai. When his two subordinates had eaten their fill and gone to sleep, Shanghai still sat hunched before the dying embers of the fire, smoking a meditative pipe. When the smoke ceased to float lazily from his nostrils he knocked the warm ashes onto the palm of his hand, got to his feet and slipped quietly away from the camp.
Any one who knew Shanghai well would have reasoned that he was probably going to look over the herd because he started away in the opposite direction. Going straight to his objective point was entirely too elemental for Shanghai. He fetched a wide circle before drawing near the herd, his approach being unheralded and made with the suspicious caution which marked all his movements. He listened inattentively to the husky voice of Cracker who was mourning the demise of somebody named Brown, and moved a little nearer. Presently he became vaguely uneasy at the silence of old Ship-o'-State. It was not the lack of song on Ship's part that troubled Shanghai—the cattle were resting easy enough—but where was he? When Cracker came around again Shanghai was near enough to see him and he craned his neck in wonder at the sight: Cracker on his two feet, staggering along like a man about three whiskeys from oblivion, and Ship off post. Here was something very wrong and Shanghai cursed softly to think how far away his horse was. What in blazes made him come afoot, anyway? He started back to camp to repair the oversight and to have Chatter and Argue behind him before making an investigation of Cracker's astonishing preference for night-herding on foot.
His descent upon the camp would have been creditable to an Apache. First making sure of his horse and leaving him in shape for instant departure, he circled the two sleeping forms, viewing them from all sides. There was something wrong. Shanghai did not know what it was but the figures of his two companions seemed actually to exhale menace and the longer he hesitated the stronger the feeling became. Shanghai stole quietly back to his horse, mounted and rode off with the settled conviction that sun-up was the proper time for investigating these unusual circumstances and that the proper spot was several miles distant from below the sky-line of some convenient knoll.
At the unmistakable sound of retreating hoofbeats the figures in camp came to life. They sat up and listened and then Tex looked at Hoppy with frank disapprobation. "Hoppy, my way was best," he declared. Hopalong nodded, in silent agreement, and Tex continued: "I been a-hearin' considerable talk about this here Shanghai an' I 'm bound to say I believe all I hears. D—n if he ain't got second sight."
Hopalong nodded again. "Let's round up th' rest of th' roosters, anyhow. We got four, an' four's a plenty to take care of."
"Shore is," admitted Tex. "Let's bring 'em in an' hog-tie 'em. Them cows would n't move for anythin' 'less 'n a Norther after th' way they 've come across country."
A half hour later Ike's four pets were lying side by side in camp, trussed to the point of immovability and all apparently, in spite of their discomfort, taking advantage of the opportunity to secure the sleep they so much needed after their unsuccessful exertions.
"Hoppy," said Tex, "I think that with that Shanghai party still runnin' at large, it 'd be some wise to split up that wealth. Better take a chance of losin' half of it than all of it. What you think?"
"Same here," agreed Hopalong. He opened the sack and dumped out the packages, dividing them roughly into two parts with a sweep of his hand, and proceeded to rip up the sack, preparatory to making two parcels of the money.
"'With milk an' honey blest,'" faltered a voice and they turned to find Argue Bennett's eyes almost starting from his head at the sight he beheld.
"Playin' 'possum, eh? It'd do you no harm to stretch hemp right now," and Tex's meditative air was fringed with ferocity.
"No offence, Comin', no offence. You woke me movin'. Is that what Dave got away with?"
"Yes—an' there won't no more Daves get away with it, you can bet all th' cows you own on that."
"An' me a-riskin' my neck rustlin' that bunch when all that beautiful wealth was a-leavin' th' country easy an' graceful an' just a-shoutin' to be brought back. Excuse me, Comin'. I ain't got no call to talk. I reckon I never did talk. Th' best I ever done since I was born is bray."
Thus it came about that Shanghai suffered the acute misery of seeing his four-footed fortune headed back the way it had come. Not that he lost heart all at once. After some hours of following he had decided that a bold stroke might put him again in possession and was perfecting the details of the stratagem his ready mind conceived, when a sudden check was given by a rapidly approaching cloud of dust from the northwest. The check became check-mate when the useful field-glasses disclosed to his pained vision the hilarious meeting that took place. A certain jaunty carriage, a characteristic swagger that did not forsake him even in the saddle, made Shanghai look hard at the leader of the new-comers and suspect Cock Murray. And his suspicion was well founded. Cock Murray had already redeemed his promise to Buck and it may be pardoned him if in the joy of his heart, his swagger became so pronounced as to disclose his personality across some miles of country.
Shanghai closed his glasses and moved slowly to his horse. "Well, it had to be," he conceded, philosophically. "An' I reckon it's about time I pulled my freight."