t
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 UNIT. Or CAT.IF. I.TRHAIIY. I.OS ANCKT-ES
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 BY 
 
 GUY MORTON 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPTBIOHT, 1022 
 
 BT SMALL. MAYNARD & COMPANY 
 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 Printed in the United States of America. 
 
 THE MTTBRAT PRINTING COMPAITT 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASS.
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 2131406
 
 Rangy Pete 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AN individual known to all his friends and to most 
 of his enemies as Rangy Pete sat with his sketchy 
 frame draped over an up-ended sugar barrel in front 
 of a building advertised to the whole world as 
 "Ike Collander's General Purpus Store." One 
 glance at Rangy Pete was enough to convince the 
 most critical that, whatever else he might be, he was 
 not a misnomer. A second glance brought out the 
 lamentable fact that Rangy Pete was totally indif- 
 ferent to the liberties which Ike Collander's adver- 
 tising propaganda took with the language of the 
 land. 
 
 As a matter of fact, he seemed quite fascinated 
 by the sign, for there was a look of pride in his eyes 
 as he continued to drape himself over the sugar 
 barrel and gaze aloft at this evidence of Ike's bustling 
 business activity. While Rangy Pete continued to 
 stare with rapt gaze, a dribble of crimson paint 
 trickled from his brush down over the lower clothing 
 of his lanky anatomy and ambled its way in time 
 through a crack in the upper face of a box labeled 
 
 l
 
 2 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Evaporated Apples. Special. Merrill, Snaky Y 
 Ranch." 
 
 When Rangy Pete's artistic instinct had at 
 length been gratified, his gaze dropped low enough 
 to enable him to discover that the paint was obeying 
 one of the first laws of nature. 
 
 "Jumping Mavericks!" he exclaimed, "and that 
 box's for Rough House Dan. Bet he'll say I done 
 it apurpos. Trying to pisen him, or something like 
 that." 
 
 Rangy Pete doubled up his frame with a jack-knife 
 effect, swabbed off as much of the^ paint as would 
 ' stick to his fingers, then he raised his voice in unhar- 
 monious volume, 
 i "Hey, Ike! Cummere." 
 
 Ike Collander, being unhampered by customers, 
 and being only half asleep at the moment the 
 volume of noise reached his ears, lowered his feet 
 from the imitation counter and sauntered out in 
 the direction of the familiar sounds. 
 
 "What you bellerin' about?" Ike demanded 
 plaintively as he thrust his head out through the 
 doorway and encountered the dry blaze of the sun 
 reflected back from an unnecessarily dusty highway. 
 
 "I'm just wantin' to advise you, Ike, to learn to 
 patter your prayers," Ran^y Pete remarked imper- 
 turbably, in his wonted mode of conversation. " I'm 
 thinking they ain't nobody this side the Twin Peaks 
 what can throw a peevish fit quicker'n Dan Merrill.
 
 RANGY PETE 3 
 
 He's got a touchy spot what licker ner nothing else 
 ain't been able to wash outa him, so I'm thinkin', 
 Ike, if you learn pretty pronto to patter the prayers, 
 we'll meet sometime in the Great Beyond. Ain't 
 that what the Methody fellow said t'other night 
 down in the tent?" 
 
 Ike Collander, knowing something of the erratic 
 ways of Rangy Pete, did not stop to ask the reason 
 of Pete's harangue. Instead, he sallied forth into 
 the glaring sun and he began a personal investigation. 
 
 "That's what I'm calling some swell sign," Rangy 
 Pete volunteered. "They ain't nobody else coulda 
 painted " 
 
 "But what's that gotta do with Dan Merrill?" 
 Ike interrupted impatiently. "You don't mean to 
 say you got me out here in the sun just to hear you 
 tell me what a rum job you made of that sign?" 
 Then, as Ike's eyes dropped to the level of Rangy 
 Pete's shoes, and as one of the shoes shifted, Ike 
 made a noise which sounded like a gasp. "You 
 tarnation idyot," he offered with emphasis. "You 
 gone and daubed paint into Merrill's evaporated 
 apples. Ain't you got no better sense " 
 
 "That's what we gonna talk over," Rangy Pete 
 broke in, as he fell back upon his characteristic 
 habit of tormenting the mother tongue. 
 
 At the best, Rangy 's selection of words would 
 hardly have gratified the ear of an Oxford don, but 
 at the worst, in moments of stress, or when a cal-
 
 4 RANGY PETE 
 
 culated impression must be left upon the ears of the 
 hearers, his mode was apt to slip into a slurring 
 drawl which ignored even the rudiments of begin- 
 nings or endings. Just now he chose to have one of 
 his worst conversational lapses. 
 
 "You ain't got no head on you, Ike, and that's 
 why you're branded to die sudden some day. Take 
 this box of apples. You know Rough House's 
 touchy over Vaporated apples, yet you ain't got 
 no better head than to leave the case right out here 
 where it gets in the way of a little bit of paint when 
 it falls off my brush. Don't you know 'at paint's 
 gotta fall some time? It can't stay up in the air 
 like a bird. I'd a thought you'd a knowed that, Ike. 
 I'd a thought you'd take some care of Dan Merrill's 
 stuff. You heard often enough 'at he likes Vaporated 
 apples fit to kill - 
 
 Rangy 's dissertation came to a close because of 
 an angry gurgle in Ike Collander's throat. 
 
 "I might a knowed better'n to hire a good-for- 
 nothing long leg like you," Ike reproached himself. 
 "If I'd a had any sense I wouldn't a kept you round 
 here longer'n a minute. And now you wanta blame 
 me fer that box getting all daubed up." 
 
 "You shore don't think you ain't to blame?" 
 Rangy Pete demanded in astonishment. "You ain't 
 gonna say next 'at I put the box there, are you? 
 Shorely you got a little spark of honesty in you 
 summers, Ike. Tell me, Ike, that you got a little
 
 RANGY PETE 5 
 
 honest feeling right now. I don't think I could go 
 on living " 
 
 Rangy Pete's plaint was submerged in a greater 
 volume of noise which came from Ike's throat. 
 
 "We gotta do something about it, I'm telling you. 
 We gotta do something - 
 
 When Ike Collander had repeated the phrases a 
 number of times, so often that his voice had lost 
 the edge of its asperity, Rangy Pete chimed in. 
 
 "That's what I been tellin' you all along. I sorta 
 thought it might be best if you pattered some 
 prayers, Ike. I'm knowin' you can't think of any 
 yourself, but if we went down to that Methody 
 gospel-flail's tent, he might - 
 
 "Shut up," Collander replied with more self- 
 control. "Merrill's coming in this afternoon for a 
 load of stuff, and I'm telling you we gotta do some- 
 thing. He's all-fired particular about these evap- 
 orated apples what's been coining in from the East. 
 You'd think they's boxes of booze, the way he hugs 
 'em. He don't drink much red licker, that boy, but 
 he's sure got the evaporated apple habit." 
 
 "You're saying something, Ike," Rangy Pete 
 supplemented, as he began to roll a cigarette. 
 "They tell me the apple habit's worse'n dope. It 
 sorta get's you till you can't leave the house for two 
 minutes unless you got a piece of 'vaporated apple 
 in your pocket. They tell me it don't act the same 
 on all men; but it ain't made Rough House Dan any
 
 6 RANGY PETE 
 
 more like a suckin' calf. He's got a tongue like a 
 snake, and he's the boy what knows how to handle 
 a quirt. If you ain't got no objections, Ike, I'm 
 thinkin' I'll go for a ride this afternoon. Since you've 
 fired me, I'll drop over to the Double K and see if 
 they've got any use for another puncher." 
 
 "I ain't fired you," Ike snapped out. "We gotta 
 do something, and we ain't got all day to do it." 
 
 "S'pose we swab the box down with a pail of 
 water," Rangy Pete offered. "I'll sit here and watch 
 you do it. You ain't much use, Ike, but surely you 
 know enough to sling some water on that paint spot. 
 I'll tell you how to do it." 
 
 "Yeah," Ike leered. "You don't catch me that 
 way. You know the water'd run inside, and the 
 apples'd swell up and bust the box." 
 
 "That's right, Ike, so they would. We got a big 
 job on our hands. You might tell Rough House Dan 
 that it's blood. You could say you shot a road 
 agent last night when he's trying to steal the box. 
 That'd put you in right. Dan's suspected all along 
 'at you'd horn into a fight fer him any ole time you 
 got haffa chance, so if you told him that's blood - 
 
 "Who ain't got no head now?" Ike intercepted 
 the flow of words in an aggrieved tone. " He wouldn't 
 believe it. 'Sides, any fool knows blood from paint. 
 An' they ain't been no road agents around this way 
 fer months. They ain't been within thirty miles of 
 Triple Butte, and you know it, Rangy Pete, so
 
 RANGY PETE 7 
 
 whyn't you think of something what's got some 
 sense in it?" 
 
 "Thirty mile ain't so much," Rangy Pete reflected. 
 ( 'Sides, you said something hadda be done. I could 
 write you a note, signin' Dervish Dick's name to it, 
 and I could make it look like the real thing. I'd 
 put a bloody cross on top of it, and I'd say, 'You 
 plugged me last night, Ike Collander, but I'm a 
 gonna git you if I haveta swim in blood to do it.' 
 That'd make Rough House Dan open his eyes, and 
 perhaps, Ike " 
 
 "No more perhapsing," Ike Collander insisted, 
 with diminishing patience. "You know nobody 
 wouldn't believe me when I told them I put up a 
 fight." 
 
 Rangy Pete slipped down off the barrel with a 
 sigh of resignation. 
 
 "Now you're talkin' like somebody who knows 
 your father's little boy," Pete rejoined as he bent 
 over and lifted the box of evaporated apples and 
 placed it upon the sugar barrel where it came more 
 nearly within his range of vision. "Ike, you're like 
 a swaddled kid. You gotta have somebody running 
 after you alia time. If it wasn't fer me, I s'pose 
 Rough House Dan 'd soon be wrappin' his quirt 
 around your legs to keep you from catchin' sunburn 
 through that hole in your pants. You're a shiftless 
 cuss, Ike, but if I gotta do all the thinkin', I s'pose 
 I gotta. A kid coulda told you what to do long ago."
 
 8 RANGY PKTF, 
 
 Ike Collander's eyes had been instinctively watch- 
 ing the dusty trail ambling its way between the 
 two rows of buildings which went by the name of 
 Triple Butte, and as his eyes followed that fniil 
 they eventually came up against a dead, monochrome 
 wall of nothingness representing a point in the 
 distance where earth and sky and dust and hazy 
 sunshine all blended into one. .Ordinarily, on a day 
 like this, when the world merely seemed to drone 
 along under a blistering sun, that dull grayness was 
 all Ike Collander's eyes would see when they studied 
 the trail leading out to the Snaky Y Ranch. 
 
 But now there was a fleck of activity in the gray 
 distance which caused Ike to step out into the 
 dusty trail and stare into the west, with his eyes 
 shaded from the glare of the sun. Rangy Pete's 
 eyes followed in the same direction, but without 
 keen interest. 
 
 " 'Tain't nothing but a few horses kicking up a 
 cloud of dust," Pete informed. ' 'Sfunny, Ike, that 
 you been here ten years and you ain't never afore 
 seen a horse kickin' up the dust. I bet they's some 
 men on the horses' backs, and if little Ike'll come 
 up here and be good, daddy'll show him a purty 
 man riding a horse. Now won't that be nice?" 
 
 Ike Collander returned to the front of the store. 
 He appeared to be keen to say something to Rangy 
 Pete, but it was the greater part of a minute before 
 he could get his lips and his tongue under control.
 
 RANGY PETE 9 
 
 "You're fired, blast you. You're fired," Ike's 
 first words poured out in a stream. "I ain't gonna 
 have no impertinent luminux like you hangin' 
 around here no more. You git out, and stay out." 
 "Thanks, Ike," Rangy Pete replied, with unruffled 
 voice. "Lend me the makings, and I'll be sifting 
 along. I just about got time to decorate Triple Butte 
 with my absence afore Dan Merrill gets here. Don't 
 forget, Ike, to tell him 'at's blood on the 'vaporated 
 apples. If I's you, I'd put salt and water on them 
 quirt marks you're gonna get. It'll hurt a bit at 
 first, but it'll take the soreness out in no time. 
 That's what we do with the critters." 
 
 "Here's the makings, Rangy, and you ain't 
 fired," Collander replied hurriedly. "I didn't mean 
 nothin' what I said. We gotta stand together, Pete. 
 What's that you said awhile ago about knowin' 
 whata do with these apples?" 
 
 Rangy Pete looked past Ike Collander's head, and 
 the faintest suggestion of interest came into his 
 manner as he stared out along the Snaky Y trail 
 in the direction of the approaching dust cloud. 
 Rangy shaded his eyes from the sun, as Collander 
 had done, then he held one hand in front of him, 
 as though taking sight along some imaginary line. 
 
 "I'll be smoked if that ain't funny," Rangy Pete 
 commented. "Whatta you see out there along the 
 trail, Ike?" 
 
 "Nothing but something we gotta hurry about,"
 
 10 RANGY PETE 
 
 Collander returned crustily. "It's Merrill or some 
 of his punchers riding in." 
 
 "Perhaps, and then perhaps not," Rangy Pete 
 reflected aloud. "They ain't been no windstorm 
 fer a month, an' that means the Snaky Y trail 
 couldn't a jumped up over night and lit down so 
 far to the south. The Snaky Y bunch'd have to 
 climb the Yellow Butte to come in thatta way, and 
 they ain't gonna climb no buttes when they don't 
 haveta." 
 
 "It don't matter. Merrill said he's coming today 
 to get this box of evaporated apples, and that's 
 him." 
 
 ' 'Sfunny. Whole bunch of cowpunchers chasm' 
 around after 'vaporated apples." 
 
 "Nothing funny about it. Now tell me what 
 we're gonna do." 
 
 "Oh, yah," Pete replied. "Now, 'spose you use 
 them holes in yer head what some people calls eyes. 
 They's a box in front of you, and it's got a tag on 
 it what shows that somebody back East has shipped 
 a case of 'vaporated apples to one Dan Merrill of 
 the Snaky Y ranch. 'Cept fer that tag, I don't see 
 that they's any difference between that box and the 
 boxes what you got back ahind the counter." 
 
 "Gosh, Pete, but you gotta head," Ike exclaimed 
 in appreciation. 
 
 " Most people's got a head, but 'tain't everybody 
 knows what a head's for," Pete rejoined. "All you
 
 RANGY PETE 11 
 
 gotta do, Ike, is slip the point of a screwdriver under 
 the tacks what's holding down this tag, then if it 
 sorta jumps over onto one of your own boxes, you 
 can't help that none. You trades boxes and he 
 keeps the tag. They ain't nothing unfair in that." 
 
 "Unless them apples of his does happen to be 
 special extra " 
 
 "Won't yours be special too when they get that 
 tag on 'em? You should a knowed, Ike, 'at it ain't 
 the apples what makes 'em special. It's the tag. 
 Now cummon. That dust cloud'll be here in about 
 ten minutes." 
 
 Ike Collander required no further stimulus. He 
 produced the essential implements of the hardware 
 trade and while Rangy Pete leaned against a hitching 
 post and proved most generous in the flow and 
 range of his advice, he hurriedly transferred the 
 shipping tag from Merrill's box to one of his own, 
 which, to all external appearances, was an exact 
 duplicate. With the transfer made, he left the box 
 bearing the Merrill tag upon the top of the sugar 
 barrel, while he removed the paint-marked box to 
 an inner portion of the ramshackle store which he 
 commonly dignified by the term "storeroom." 
 
 Ike brushed away the signs of toil, Rangy Pete 
 shifted the paint pot to the shady side of the building, 
 and as the cloud of horsemen reached the first shack 
 of Triple Butte the two men sat down in the doorway 
 of the "General Purpus" store to await their coming.
 
 12 RANGY PETE 
 
 Rangy Pete's gaze wandered up the dusty trail, 
 but apart from the life represented by that dust- 
 cloud, Triple Butte had but little to interest even 
 Rangy 's listless gaze. There were two or three 
 dejected bronchos standing with drooping heads in 
 front of the saloon across the way; there were other 
 horses in the corral, and there was an intermittent 
 sound from the saloon itself which Rangy recognized 
 as an indeterminate effort on the part of Shifty Lizz 
 to coax musical sounds from the only piano in Triple 
 Butte. Shifty Lizz was a female, and for the lack of 
 anything better she was sometimes regarded as one 
 of the attractions about Tony Burke's saloon, tlic 
 degree of her charms being regulated pro rata to the 
 amount of Tony's liquor which had filmed the 
 k of the attraction hunter. 
 
 Shifty had won her prefix from the rapid manner 
 in which she had once disposed of a brash cow- 
 puncher who had fancied that the eating room of 
 Tony Burke's "Mansion House" was the proper 
 place in which to display his affections for Lizz. 
 At the moment Shifty Lizz had been rounding up 
 fodder for a number of Tony's guests, but in the 
 heat of the moment it was all shifted with such 
 remarkable dexterity that it landed upon various 
 weak points in the cowboy's anatomy. Since that 
 time it had been quite possible for Shifty Lizz to 
 while away an idle hour in the barroom for the mak- 
 ing of such noises as now reached the ear of Rangy
 
 RANGY PETE 13 
 
 Pete without the slightest fear of amorous approach 
 on the part of any but the most utter stranger. 
 
 Now, Rangy Pete wished that the brash cow- 
 puncher had not brought this punishment upon 
 Triple Butte. He experienced a keen feeling of 
 grievance against the absent puncher, and that, 
 combined with the heat of the day, made him sud- 
 denly wish that the amorous one might be in Merrill's 
 party. 
 
 Rangy Pete was suddenly roused from his vin- 
 dictive mood by the voice of Ike Collander. 
 
 "They're makin' an awful lot of dust, an' Merrill 
 don't ride so fast as that on a hot day." 
 
 "Yeah. Keep it up. Keep on yammering," 
 Rangy Pete returned peevishly. "Ain't you got 
 nothin' to do all day but sit there and yammer about 
 nothin' atoll? This ain't no exhortin' meeting down 
 at the Methody tent. Ain't you never gonna learn 
 to sit still a minute and keep your mouth shut like 
 me?" 
 
 "Like you?" Ike flared at some indignity which 
 he appeared to find in Rangy 's words. "I'm thankin' 
 all the saints I ever heard of that I ain't like you. 
 Look at the mess you near got us into - 
 
 "Me get you into a mess," Rangy returned with 
 reproach. "If they was ever a more ongrateful 
 critter runnm' around without a brand than you be, 
 Ike, I'd like to see it. Ain't I been a punishin' my 
 brains to get you outa the scrape you got into by
 
 14 RANGY PETE 
 
 leaving them Vaporated apples right where the 
 paint'd fall on them? Ain't I got you out of a hole, 
 I'm asking? An' you got nothing to do but sit there 
 and yammer - 
 
 Rangy Pete paused because of the striking lack 
 of interest on the part of his audience. Far from 
 displaying the necessary amount of umbrage, Ike 
 had abruptly seized his associate by the arm and 
 he was going through a gasping motion. Collander's 
 eyes were rolling, as though from fright or the 
 effects of the sun, and his lips were stammering. 
 
 "Try a hot pebble in the mouth," Rangy Pete 
 suggested. "It sometimes helps - 
 
 Then Rangy's eyes followed Ike's dramatic 
 gesture, and he committed the unusual offence of 
 stopping half way through an idea. 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty!" Pete exclaimed for the second 
 time that day, as he caught sight of the faces of the 
 approaching riders. 
 
 For even a hundred yards distant he could see 
 that across the face of each mounted man there was 
 a dull, grayish bandage which covered the eyes and 
 ran well up to the hat band and down to the tip of 
 the nose. 
 
 "They're r-r-road a-agents," Ike Collander put 
 his gasping into words. "An* I gotta get outa here. 
 I got ten dollars - 
 
 Ike made a movement as though to rise, but 
 Rangy Pete put out a hand and returned him to his
 
 RANGY PETE 15 
 
 former position with the ease of one handling a child. 
 
 "Ain't you got no sense atoll?" Rangy asked. 
 "Don't you know road agents shoot on sight when 
 they see a coyote takin' to cover thatta way? They 
 oughtn't to wear them eye blankets, fer no man can 
 shoot straight with a thing like that over his face. 
 They'd be just as apt to hit me as you - 
 
 Any further wisdom which Rangy Pete may 
 have intended to impart to Collander was drowned 
 in the clatter of hoofs and the whir of noise as the 
 troupe slithered to a halt across the roadway, with 
 two horsemen facing Ike Collander's store and with 
 the balance taking an interest in Tony Burke's 
 saloon. With a medley of fright, Shifty Lizz' 
 strumming at the musical fount of Triple Butte 
 came to an abrupt end. The sound of voices died 
 away, and for a space of ten seconds or more there 
 was the absolute calm of utter desolation. 
 
 Rangy Pete felt that Triple Butte had auto- 
 matically wakened to the presence of the road 
 agents and that this unnatural silence was but the 
 armistice through which the leading citizens delib- 
 erated with themselves whether or not it were 
 flirting with the Great Beyond to give battle to the 
 diminutive army of Dervisher Dick. So Rangy's 
 eyes darted here and there, to every opening in the 
 walls of Tony Burke's fragile castle. For if there 
 were to be battle, it would come from Tony's place. 
 If Triple Butte ever swaggered, it was through the
 
 16 RANGY PETE 
 
 front doorway of Tony's saloon, and at this particular 
 moment the decision of battle or of peace would 
 depend entirely upon the assortment of individuals 
 who happened to be hugging Tony's bar, and also 
 upon the state of their liquid mellowness. 
 
 As Rangy Pete sat through those seconds, he 
 tried to recall just whom he had seen enter the saloon 
 through the past hour. There were none of the 
 Snaky Y boys, for Merrill's party was still due to 
 arrive. And there couldn't be any of the Double K 
 punchers, or the battle would have been on before 
 this. And there wasn't Sheriff Stipples, for Stipples 
 had ridden away in the opposite direction shortly 
 after daylight. 
 
 Rangy Pete sighed before the ten seconds were up. 
 The most formidable of Triple Butte's defences 
 would be Shifty Lizz, and Shifty, he could see, had 
 regained her composure, for she was already grinning 
 through the open window at Dervisher Dick. 
 
 With a gesture to his men, Dervisher Dick sprang 
 to the dusty highway, and with a pistol in either 
 hand he walked briskly through the doorway of 
 the saloon. 
 
 The hands of the road agents, Rangy Pete could 
 see, were bristling with revolvers, but whatever 
 happened to be going on behind their eyes was 
 totally concealed by the masks. As Rangy stared, 
 he fancied that the lips of one of the riders facing 
 Collander's store parted with the suggestion of a smile.
 
 RANGY PETE 17 
 
 Rangy promptly grinned in return. 
 
 ''Hands up, you long string of horse-hide," the 
 man bellowed, with a flourish of one of his revolvers. 
 "Don't think you can set there grinnin' at me." 
 
 Rangy Pete's arms stretched into the air for a 
 surprising distance, but he did not take the trouble 
 to move from his sitting position in the doorway. 
 
 " 'Twan't you I was grinnin' at," Rangy returned 
 in an aggrieved manner. "I sorta smiled at that 
 handsome person at your side. He makes me think 
 of my long-lost brother." 
 
 "Swallow the chatter," the road agent elevated 
 his voice still more, "And you too, you little fat 
 toad. Get on your feet. Don't set there like a pair 
 of dead coyotes. Reach for the stars, you long drink 
 of water. Reach for 'em. Pick 'em out. Hand me 
 that big green one what sits on top of the North 
 Pole." 
 
 Ike Collander sprang to his feet with surprising 
 alacrity, and Rangy Pete ambled into a standing 
 position, with his hands thrust high above his head. 
 
 "I'm tellin' you, Mister, this ain't no comfortable 
 way to stand," Rangy found his voice in protest. 
 "An* I ain't gonna pick no stars 'cause I once got 
 some star slivers in my fingers a-doin' this, and it 
 ain't no fun gettin' 'em out again." 
 
 "Higher! Higher! Reach up and hand me down 
 Ike Collander 's chimbley." 
 
 "I can't go no higher, Mister," Rangy protested.
 
 18 RANGY PETE 
 
 "You otta know that. Can't you see I broke my 
 suspenders a reaching fer them stars, an' I got human 
 feelings - 
 
 Immediate diversion to the road agent's mood 
 came in the form of a bellowing noise from the door 
 of Tony's saloon. The sound came from Dervisher 
 Dick who was herding the full human contents of 
 the barroom out into the street at the points of 
 two revolvers, and who, at the same time, was inviting 
 his troupe inside to enjoy the enforced hospitality 
 of Tony Burke. 
 
 There appeared to be the discipline of system in 
 Dervisher Dick's party, for instantly, without 
 definite instructions, the complete troupe, with the 
 exception of two riders, disappeared through the 
 saloon doorway and instantly there came back the 
 sounds of revelry among the breaking bottles. 
 
 Two riders still sat their horses in the dusty 
 highway. One stood guard over many of the leading 
 citizens of Triple Butte who were clustered con- 
 veniently in a sunny little nook in front of the 
 saloon. The other loomed up in front of Rangy Pete 
 and Ike Collander. As for the rest of Triple Butte, 
 there was not so much as a toddling child to be 
 seen for the full length of its one dusty highway. 
 Triple Butte, it became evident to Rangy Pete, 
 though personally unfamiliar with the habits of 
 road agents, had listened to the stories which had 
 recently come out of the south about Dervisher Dick,
 
 RANGY PETE 19 
 
 and was quite willing to give him full credit for a 
 violent disposition without putting the rumor to the 
 test. 
 
 The little cluster of citizens across the highway 
 appeared to be in much the same mood. Rangy 
 looked across, past the two road agents, and some- 
 thing in the pose of Triple Butte's leading citizenry 
 seemed to appeal to his sense of humor. 
 
 There was Tony Burke, lean, wiry, dark of coun- 
 tenance, though just now growing increasingly red 
 because of the flame of the sun and that steady 
 sound of cracking bottles from the interior. There 
 was Rummy Lister, Tony's right-hand man, some- 
 times known in more polite circles as a bouncer, 
 and always known in Triple Butte as the one-on-the- 
 house man whenever the courage of the guests 
 seemed to flag. There was Lefty Merker, the 
 set-'em-up man, who constantly held forth behind 
 Burke's bar, and who had won the first half of his 
 name because of the unusual habit of wearing a gun 
 where the left hand could reach it the most con- 
 veniently. Lefty, it was rumored, had once "potted" 
 an impertinent stranger, and because of this peculiar 
 arrangement of his armament he had not even 
 stopped the serving of liquor with the other hand. 
 Lefty was supposed to possess a bull-dog brand of 
 courage, and until this particular moment Rangy 
 Pete had never been given cause to suspect that the 
 breed had been crossed with any less warlike strain.
 
 20 RANGY PETE 
 
 There was Buck Menzie, the stage-driver who had 
 taken a day off; there was Lonzo Rafters, who catered 
 to the public in direct opposition to Ike Collander; 
 and there were a half dozen other dwellers of Triple 
 Butte, less fiery but not less bibulous in disposition. 
 But there was no Shifty Lizz. 
 
 A grin came to Rangy Pete's lips as his glance 
 strayed over the inartistic group of citizens. Then 
 his eyes crossed those of Tony Burke and he found 
 there an encouragement to battle. 
 
 That started Rangy Pete upon a new line of 
 thought which had nothing whatever to do with 
 humor. He looked back at Tony Burke, and he saw 
 that Tony's eyes traveled deliberately to the gun 
 at Pete's hip, then to the rider standing guard 
 over Collander's store, then back to the second 
 rider. 
 
 Quite plainly, Tony Burke was giving his mute 
 instructions. He was suggesting that if Rangy Pete 
 would only start something, he would join in. 
 
 While the revelry across the way grew in intensity, 
 Rangy Pete began to reflect. First of all, why should 
 Dervisher Dick have led his troupe into Triple 
 Butte? So far as Rangy knew, the accumulated 
 wealth of Triple Butte could hardly have been 
 gratifying to the Dervishers. And as yet, while the 
 road agents had done a number of things which 
 would not win them many lasting friendships, there 
 had been no systematic attempt to collect wealth.
 
 RANGY PETE 21 
 
 Doubtless they would already have looted the faro 
 and other gambling outfits which were the rear 
 auxiliary of Tony's establishment, but Rangy had 
 reason to know that there was but little gold to be 
 rifled there. It was the off season for punchers, and 
 strangers had been scattered of late. Dervisher Dick 
 should also have known that. Further, the road 
 agents had not even taken the trouble to deprive 
 the citizens of their accustomed weapons. But that, 
 Rangy Pete knew, was the way with the Dervishers. 
 It was the kind of daring they favored. 
 
 But now, as Rangy reflected, he wondered just 
 what the Dervishers could hope to gain from Triple 
 Butte. Of course, there was the establishment of 
 Burk Laxton, the private banker, down the street; 
 but Laxton, Pete knew, had a safe which road agents 
 could neither crack nor carry away. Further than 
 that, Laxton had been absent for a week, so no 
 amount of compulsion could force a way into the 
 doubtful treasures of that safety vault. 
 
 Rangy Pete leaned back and rested his arms 
 against the side of Ike Collander's store. 
 
 Fight? It could be done. But what was the use? 
 There was nothing at stake. There was not the 
 first reason in the world why he should put up a 
 fight, not a reason, except that challenge which 
 flashed out of Tony Burke's red face. 
 
 Tony had southern blood somewhere in his veins, 
 and it was plain to Rangy Pete that there was
 
 22 RANGY PETE 
 
 something in the situation which did not calm that 
 warm strain in the proprietor of the Mansion House. 
 Perhaps Tony had more funds in the faro layout 
 than Pete imagined. 
 
 The message in Tony's eyes was undoubted now. 
 It was an appeal. In it, as well, there was a smack 
 of flattery. It seemed to leap across the intervening 
 space and say that the citizens of Triple Butte had 
 more confidence in Rangy Pete than they had in 
 themselves. 
 
 Rangy's eyes left the huddled group of citizens 
 and they drifted aimlessly to the figure of the 
 mounted rider. As Rangy looked, the other's eyes 
 snapped back to his face, but that change on the 
 part of the mounted rider, swift as it had been, 
 was enough to tell Rangy Pete that Dervisher Dick 
 had made a mistake in the man he had left upon 
 guard. It told him further that the rider had not 
 been watching him, Rangy Pete, but that he had 
 been watching something else, perhaps Ike Collander, 
 perhaps something farther down the street. And 
 if the man's eyes left him once, they would leave 
 him again. The longer that revelry continued across 
 the street, the more difficult it would be for the 
 rider to keep his glance fixed upon any one point 
 and men long ago had learned that it might not 
 be entirely safe to allow the eyes to wander when 
 looking at Rangy Pete in a serious way. 
 
 Rangy Pete chuckled inwardly, though outwardly
 
 RANGY PETE 23 
 
 there was not the least flicker of change upon his 
 leathery features. Pete believed he had left off 
 gun-fighting, but there was something in this situa- 
 tion which recalled to him the old fever of battle. 
 It was an itch creeping through his blood; it was a 
 reawakening of the past; it was a cry of the brain 
 which seemed to say that out of the great mass of 
 the world's affairs the only thing which mattered 
 at this particular moment was for him to test whether 
 or not he had lost any of the old swiftness of finger. 
 
 In a flash there came to him the whole plan for 
 the overthrow of the Dervishers. And it could be 
 done with comparative safety to Triple Butte. 
 There would be a few bullet holes in Triple Butte, 
 and perhaps some in her citizens, but that would 
 not matter. 
 
 Two of the road agents came through the doorway 
 of the Mansion House with glasses of liquor still 
 clasped in their hands. 
 
 "Here's to yer health, my purty birds," one of 
 the men laughed loudly and waved his glass in the 
 direction of the huddled citizenry. "Drink to 'em, 
 Smooch. Drink to 'em hearty, 'cause maybe we 
 won't be comin' back this way so soon." 
 
 The road agents drank, threw the empty glasses 
 into the group of prisoners, walked to the horses, 
 and with a standing leap sprang to the animals' 
 backs. Then, with a twirl of their quirts, they 
 spurred their mounts and dashed down the roadway
 
 ?4 RANGY PETE 
 
 in the direction of Burk Laxton's private bank. 
 
 "Won't get nothin' there," Rangy Pete com- 
 mented to himself. "Two of 'em gone. That'll 
 make it all the easier." 
 
 Rangy Pete saw the whole plan now. 
 
 The next time his guard's eyes left him, Dervisher 
 Dick's crew would think the war of Armageddon 
 had hit them. 
 
 So Rangy Pete looked across the dusty highway 
 of Triple Butte and he winked slowly at Tony Burke. 
 That individual winked back in understanding. 
 
 To the best of Pete's memory there were ten of 
 the Dervishers to be disposed of. There were two 
 on their way to Laxton's; there were two here in 
 the roadway, and there were six in the saloon 
 beyond, disposing of liquid refreshments in a manner 
 which Lefty Merker could never approve of. 
 
 Rangy Pete's arms were still stretched above his 
 head, sagging somewhat now, and resting against 
 the clapboard building. At his right hip was a 
 derringer. Inside, on the wall of Ike Collander's 
 emporium, was a Winchester. 
 
 That was all quite as it should be. For long ago 
 Rangy Pete had anticipated the moment when he 
 might find himself in just such an unheroic pose as 
 this. There were many hours which he had spent 
 in perfecting a clean, machine-like way to overcome 
 such a handicap, and though the routine had worked 
 out to his entire satisfaction when applied to count-
 
 RANGY PETE 25 
 
 less small bottles and other objects the size of a man's 
 heart, it had never yet been applied to the human 
 form. So Rangy Pete's fingers itched to test its 
 efficiency upon the person of the road agent imme- 
 diately in front of him. The method was simple, 
 and it required only the straying half-second glance 
 of the watcher. In such a weak moment Rangy Pete 
 would fall awkwardly to the ground, in that sprawling 
 movement which he had practiced hundreds of times. 
 But the sprawl, innocent as it would seem, per- 
 mitted the right hand to sweep past the right hip 
 and it gave time for the accurate flinging of bullets 
 in any given direction. 
 
 Rangy Pete knew his own skill in flinging bullets 
 from the hip at some object which the eye did not 
 take time to see, and he rather regretted that it 
 would be necessary to snuff out such a young life, 
 even that of a road agent, in order to put his system 
 to the test. For the rider in front of him, he had 
 abruptly discovered, appeared to be but little more 
 than a slip of a boy a slip of a boy, with a clean, 
 unbearded face and with blue eyes which could not 
 be entirely concealed by the mask across the face. 
 
 In that moment Rangy Pete decided that it 
 would be enough to wing the blue-eyed boy. A bullet 
 through the right arm or shoulder would do it. 
 Then a second bullet through the back of the other 
 rider standing guard over the citizens of Triple Butte. 
 That would free Tony Burke and his army. He
 
 26 RANGY PETE 
 
 himself would leap back into (Hollander's store, and 
 it would be worse than rough work if they did not 
 get at least three more of the bandits when they 
 rushed to the saloon doorway to find the answer to 
 the noise. That would leave five, at the most six, 
 of the highwaymen, with their forces divided, and 
 with the most of them separated from their mounts. 
 And the first sound of excitement, Rangy Pete knew, 
 would bring into play every Winchester which 
 Triple Butte owned. And if that were not enough, 
 there was Dan Merrill and his riders expected in 
 from the Snaky Y at any moment. 
 
 "You're sure outa luck, Dervishers," Rangy 
 Pete reflected, as he eased his arms a trifle lower. 
 "There'll be about enough of you left by night to 
 give the gospel slinger a full day's work. An' the 
 poor devil won't get no pay fer it unless we chip in 
 and take up the dough fer him. Who'd wanta be a 
 gospel boy with the cards stacked thatta way?" 
 
 For the time it took the two riders to reach Burk 
 Laxton's establishment and hammer their way 
 through the unresisting doorway, Rangy Pete kept 
 his glance carefully turned away from the slip of 
 a boy with blue eyes. If this were only Dervisher 
 Dick himself it would be more satisfactory. It 
 would be a cleaner test. For this boy doubtless 
 would be some degrees slower than lightning with 
 the six-shooter in his hand, and that would be too slow 
 for him to escape what Rangy Pete intended to do.
 
 RANGY PETE 27 
 
 Rangy's eyes slipped back to the boy's face. 
 
 Accustomed though he was to the surprises of 
 life, Rangy found it difficult to repress a start of 
 amazement. For trickling down below the band of the 
 Stetson hat and trailing out over the upper portion 
 of the mask was a shimmering loop of hair. 
 
 "You otta know, you young maverick, that hair 
 ain't nothing to worry about," Rangy informed him- 
 self, "but that particular hair ain't what one would 
 look to be decorating the foretop of a road agent." 
 
 For the loop of hair, besides having a shimmer 
 which indicated that it must have received more 
 attention than the male head crop generally receives 
 in the butte district, was long and wavy and gave 
 the appearance of having been caught up somewhere 
 in a loop beneath the Stetson. And that would be 
 too foppish for any youth who hoped to hold his 
 own with the rough and ready roisterers to be found 
 among the Dervishers. 
 
 Abruptly Rangy Pete grinned to the extent of 
 his capacity. For he had acquired a thought, per- 
 fectly absurd on the face of it, but still with some 
 slight foundation of possibility. And if the impos- 
 sible were possible, then Rangy Pete would be 
 enjoying the distinct novelty of being held up by a 
 female bandit. 
 
 A female bandit? And thirty seconds ago he had 
 almost tried out that sprawling ground shot which 
 he had practised so many hundreds of times.
 
 28 RANGY PETE 
 
 * Rangy Pete continued to grin. There must be 
 ways of discovering whether or not this blue-eyed, 
 boyish person, with the dangling lock of shimmering 
 hair, were really man or woman. And Rangy Pete 
 must make the discovery rapidly, for the fate of the 
 whole crew of Dervishers, he admitted, was hanging 
 in the balance. If that were a boy, then a shot 
 through the right arm. If a woman Rangy added 
 a shrug of the shoulders to the grin on his lips. 
 
 Still the blue-eyed person did not fall back upon 
 words which might have betrayed the question of 
 sex. 
 
 "Say, you young feller with the purty eyes," 
 Rangy began, with the grin still prominent, "you 
 got the smoothest, cutest little chin I ever set eyes 
 on. They ain't nobody in Triple Butte could stand 
 up and swap beauty with the Dervishers' pet. 
 D'you mind slippin' me yer monaker, cutey, so's 
 I'll know you next time from the fairy queens what 
 drift out this way?" 
 
 Still no answer, and Rangy Pete shifted restlessly. 
 When he spoke again, his conversational style 
 became emphasized. 
 
 "If I's you, cutey with the blue eyes, I'd sorta 
 put a rope on that strayin' bunch of hair what's 
 stickin' out. It's sure purtier than the mornin' 
 sunrise, but that ain't no reason - 
 
 Rangy Pete paused, for with a quick gesture 
 the rider raised the left hand and tucked the hair
 
 RANGY PETE 29 
 
 back beneath the Stetson. A woman, of course. 
 That motion had betrayed the fact. But how was 
 he to get further proof? 
 
 There was a way to test it. Suppose he dropped 
 his arms. If it were a man, then a bullet would 
 probably zip along in his direction; if a woman, she 
 would not have the nerve to shoot. 
 
 Rangy Pete grinned some more. A queer testing, 
 but he simply must know if there were a woman 
 with sufficient courage to ride with road agents and 
 share in the holding up of even such a peaceful 
 center as Triple Butte. And if she were a woman, 
 he must know more about her. 
 
 The puncher shifted the left hand half way 
 towards his side, but with his gaze fixed intently 
 upon that pair of blue eyes showing between the 
 slits of the mask. 
 
 In reply there was a bark from the gun in the 
 rider's right hand, and it was only by a hurried jerk 
 of the left arm back to its former position that he 
 escaped the bullet. Rangy looked at the hole in the 
 wall, saw that the bullet had cut through at the 
 exact point where his left arm had been; then he 
 looked back at the rider and grinned some more. 
 
 "You sure got me guessin', purty eyes," he 
 hazarded. "I'd a sweared youse a woman till you 
 pulled that quick-fire stunt. You sure shot to 
 punch a hole in me, an' that ain't no kind of a thing 
 what a sweet little girl with blue eyes'd do."
 
 30 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Who says it isn't?" 
 
 The voice came clearly, coldly, from the rider 
 with the blue eyes, and though there was a studied 
 thickness hi the tones, it became instantly plain to 
 Rangy Pete that its background was the soprano of 
 a female voice. There was a firmness in the tones 
 which demanded attention, and the coldness would 
 have discouraged one less careless than Rangy Pete. 
 
 "Nobody, Ma'am," Rangy replied, with an 
 affectation of meekness. "I just had a fool idea, 
 but it's plumb wrong from finish to start. It's just 
 the kind of thing - 
 
 "Don't call me ma'am," the rider broke in. 
 "Call me sir." 
 
 "Yes, Ma'am, Sir, I mean." 
 
 Rangy Pete fell silent for the lack of something 
 impertinent to say, but that did not prevent him 
 enjoying the situation to the full. To be held up at 
 the point of a six-shooter may not have many 
 charms for the average citizen, but Rangy Pete was 
 not of the average. In the first place, he had nothing 
 of which such a situation could rob him, unless it 
 were his life, and according to the teachings which 
 Rangy had imbibed from the butte districts, life 
 was one of the cheapest of commodities. Two 
 minutes ago he had been quite willing to plan the 
 complete wiping out of the Dervishers, with the 
 consequent toll which such process would levy 
 upon the citizens of Triple Butte. He had viewed
 
 RANGY PETE 31 
 
 that undertaking with the same coolness with which 
 he would have approached the branding of so many 
 strays, so now the meekness which came to his lips 
 and to his features was considerably short of par 
 value. Rangy was also finding the novelty of the 
 situation refreshing. In Triple Butte where Shifty 
 Lizz came as near to advertising the charms of the 
 fair sex as did any of its other inhabitants, it was a 
 pleasure to rest the eyes upon a nice, smoothly 
 rounded chin and to try to draw up a mental picture 
 of what must come between the nicely curving lips 
 and those blue eyes which peered out through the 
 slits in the mask. 
 
 "A beauty, I'd say," Rangy reflected aloud. 
 "A bit young, but with lots of staying power." 
 
 "Did you speak?" the cold voice came again. 
 
 " Naw. I's just reflectin' on the sins of man what 
 don't let no beauties come out thisaway." Rangy 
 fell back upon his habit of slurring words. "It's 
 funny they ain't no purty women hi this part of 
 the world, don't you think so, Mister? They was 
 one come out here onct, about three-four years ago. 
 She hadn't been here a week, Mister, afore they's 
 twenty punchers wantin' to marry her. So she just 
 naturally packed up and hits the trail fer summers 
 else. Now they ain't a purty woman within fifty 
 mile of Triple Butte. I's just sayin' it's funny, 
 don't you think so, Mister?" 
 
 Rangy Pete could see that the blue eyes flashed.
 
 32 RANGY PETE 
 
 Lots of fire. That was the way he liked them. If 
 only he could trap her into some further identification 
 of her sex. 
 
 "But perhaps yer hatin' women the way I do, 
 an' don't wanta say nothin' about 'em," Rangy Pete 
 added hopefully. 
 
 "You've said enough, you giraffe. This ain't a 
 tea party." 
 
 That was very good, Rangy Pete reflected. There 
 was not enough venom or coarseness in it for the 
 rider to be a man. There was also the faintest, the 
 very faintest suggestion that the person was amused. 
 
 Rangy Pete allowed his eyes to stray past the 
 rider, out to the trail of the Snaky Y. Then they 
 swerved back to the smooth chin and the clean 
 lips. 
 
 "If youse takin' my advice," Rangy suggested, 
 "you'd be tellin' this coyote of an Ike Collander 
 to mosey along to the other side of the street. He 
 ain't nohow to be trusted, Ike ain't." 
 
 That, Rangy felt, would be the final test whether 
 this rider were a precocious boy with a soprano 
 voice, or if, as he believed now, it was a woman. 
 A precocious youngster would not shirk the respon- 
 sibility of guarding two prisoners, while a girl with 
 the sense of humor which he hoped she possessed 
 would be quick to see that for some reason or other 
 Rangy Pete wanted to get all other citizens of 
 Triple Butte beyond earshot. And there should be
 
 RANGY PETE 33 
 
 enough of the female curiosity in her to make her 
 want to know the reason why. 
 
 "Don't be afraid of Ike shootin' you in the back, 
 or of shootin' your pard," Rangy encouraged, "fer 
 he ain't got a gun. Make him spin round like a top 
 afore he goes, an' you can see fer yourself." 
 
 There was the least suggestion of a twinkle in 
 the blue eyes. 
 
 "Ike, get out of here. We'd admire to enjoy your 
 absence." The voice came with such coldness that 
 Rangy fancied he must have imagined the twinkle 
 in the eyes. "Pronto. Make it like a jack-rabbit, 
 or there'll be ventilating holes in your fat hide." 
 
 Ike Collander did not wait for a second invitation. 
 With hands somewhere on a level with his head, he 
 hurried across the dusty highway. When Rangy 
 Pete's glance returned from Ike Collander to the 
 blue eyes in front of him, he found a question there 
 which had not been put into words. 
 
 "I know you're wantin' to know what it's all 
 about, Miss," Rangy began confidently. "But first 
 of all, this ain't no Hindoo trick trying to get para- 
 lyzed arms, so if you'll let me slip 'em down to my 
 sides, Miss, you got my word I won't try no fool 
 stunt with you. All you gotta do is nod to say * yes. ' ' 
 
 "Take out your gun and drop it on the ground," 
 the blue-eyed one commanded. 
 
 Rangy Pete did as told, then he grinned broadly. 
 
 "You ain't in skirts," he said, "but you're sure
 
 34 RANGY PETE 
 
 innocent. Don't you know I coulda perforated you 
 about a few times when I's doing that, if I'd wanted 
 to?" 
 
 "Yes, but I thought I had your promise to be 
 good. If you want to try it over again I'll bet you 
 anything you want to mention that there'll be two 
 holes in your hide before you can touch the butt of 
 your gun." 
 
 Rangy Pete shrugged his shoulders and grinned 
 some more. 
 
 "I'm satisfied, Miss," he declared, "but I'm 
 tellin' you I won't be noways happy till I get a look 
 at that purty face of yours without a mask on it. 
 They ain't nobody lookin', Miss, and this's a gay 
 world. Would you mind just slippin' off the mask 
 and lettin' me feast my eyes fer a fraction of a 
 second or so?" 
 
 "Don't think I've gone loco because I let Ike 
 Collander go. We're holding up the place and you 
 might be a deputy for all I know. Then where'd I 
 be the next time you saw me?" 
 
 "I'm givin' you my word I'm just plain Rangy 
 Pete, and I'm tellin' you, girl, that if you don't let 
 me take a peek at them purty cheeks, I'll be doing 
 it some other day." 
 
 "How do you know I'm a girl at all?" the voice 
 demanded, and Rangy chuckled to think how far 
 they were from the natural pose of bandit and 
 prisoner.
 
 RANGY PETE 35 
 
 "You wouldn't a stood fer my guff two minutes 
 if you hadn't a been a girl," Rangy returned con- 
 fidently, "and now I'm tellin' you I got you marked 
 out. They's that little mole round near the left ear, 
 and I sure ain't never gonna forget the set of that 
 chin or them lips. I got you branded, girl; now I'm 
 guessin' you'd better be hitting the trail - 
 
 Anger seemed to flash into the blue eyes. 
 
 "If you been playing with me, you ought to be 
 shot," the voice burst out, undoubtedly feminine 
 this time. 
 
 " Say, girl, you got your back set to the Snaky Y 
 trail, so you can't see what I'm seein'. Nor your 
 pal across the street can't see it either. Nor that 
 drunken bunch inside can't see it. So it's just a 
 confidential matter between you and me, girl." 
 
 The rider made a quick motion as though to 
 glance over her shoulder, then turned back hurriedly. 
 
 "No, you don't pull that trick on me." 
 
 "All right, just keep your purty self settin' right 
 where you are and I'll do all the seein' fer the two 
 of us. They's a dust cloud back there on the trail 
 what looks like a whole army's moving along this 
 way. But I happen to know it ain't no army. 
 You've heard of Dan Merrill, Miss? Rough House 
 Dan?" 
 
 "What of him?" the girl demanded. 
 
 " I got the inside tip what tells me Dan Merrill's 
 back there in that dust cloud, and they's some of
 
 36 RANGY PETE 
 
 his bucko riders with him. You gotta take my 
 word for it when I tell you the cloud's a whole lot 
 bigger'n the one you Dervishers made when you 
 come prancin* in fer your afternoon call. Now if it 
 wan't fer you, Miss, I'd a stood here gabbin' with 
 you till that dust cloud kinda swamped the Der- 
 vishers and blotted 'em out. That's why I got Ike 
 kicked across the street, so's I could tell you sorta 
 confidential. Girlie, they's two things you can do. 
 You can give the scare sign to Dervisher Dick, or 
 if you happen to of seen plenty of the Dervishers 
 and think that's enough - 
 
 "Don't call me 'girlie'. I won't stand for it. 
 I'm a perfect gentleman." 
 
 "All right, Miss, but don't interrupt me thatta- 
 way, fer they ain't so much time. I've set on Ike 
 Collander's doorstep often enough to know what 
 them dust clouds mean, and this one tells me they's 
 a pretty little bunch of buckos who'll be here inside 
 a half hour. All you gotta do is use your head a 
 bit to know they're thirsty and '11 shoot straight er'n 
 that bunch of half tanks acrost the road what call 
 'emselves Dervishers. If you let Merrill's crew hit 
 town while the Dervishers are here, it'll be good-bye 
 Dick ole boy and a big period at the end of the 
 sentence. I once went to school, Miss. That's 
 where I got that." 
 
 The blue-eyed bandit appeared to ponder the 
 situation for a moment and even went to the length
 
 RANGY PETE 37 
 
 of a hurried glance over the shoulder. Then when 
 the eyes centered back on Rangy Pete they were 
 cold and deliberate. 
 
 "What's that you been trying to say about me 
 being fed up on the Dervishers' company?" 
 
 "Nothin' much. I just sorta got to thinkin' that 
 perhaps a blue-eyed little girlie like you wasn't with 
 the Dervishers 'cause she wanted to be. Then if 
 that's the case, I knew it didn't have to be the case 
 allus. I could sorta see you settin' there on that 
 hoss till the Snaky Y buckos hit town, then I could 
 see you steppin' down and walkin' into Ike's store. 
 Then they'd be me and you scrappin' side by side 
 if it come to a showdown, but they wouldn't be 
 no showdown, fer I know the Snaky Y boys, and 
 they'd have Dickie boy stretched out afore 
 
 Rangy Pete paused because of a flash which came 
 to the blue eyes. 
 
 "Stop right there, Mr. Preacher Pete," the 
 voice commanded more coldly than he had yet 
 heard it. "Don't try that reforming stunt on me. 
 You're like some other correcting saints I've heard 
 of. You'd reform a body even if you had to kill 
 them to do it. I heard there was a preaching gospel 
 boy in town, but I didn't think he'd look like you 
 do. I'm going to hand you a bit of advice, Mr. 
 Preacher. You can't do any good while you're 
 packing that gun around with you " 
 
 "But I ain't the gospel boy," Rangy Pete broke
 
 38 RANGY PETE 
 
 in peevedly. "Ain't you got no eyes, Miss? I ain't 
 got on a black coat; can't you see that?" 
 
 "Then, Mr. Rangy Pete, or whoever else you 
 happen to be, did you really think I would sit here 
 and let Merrill's crew sneak up and murder the 
 Dervishers?" 
 
 "Murder?" Pete exclaimed, being reduced to short 
 sentences for the first time in a long period. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Pete, murder. That is what it would 
 be. And you asked me to be a party to it. And 
 to let that coyote, Dan Merrill, do it." 
 
 "Gosh!" Rangy Pete returned, as he watched 
 the growing anger in the girl's eyes. 
 
 "There is only one thing saves you from getting 
 some of that bad blood let out of you, Mr. Pete, 
 and it's my bringing up. My fingers are just itching 
 to put a hole in you, but here's my answer. " 
 
 With that, the blue-eyed rider raised a six-shooter 
 and fired three rapid shots into Ike (Hollander's 
 newly painted sign. Rangy Pete glanced up and 
 saw that the bullets had cut as neat a triangle as 
 he himself could have done at the same range. In 
 immediate response, there was a rush of men from 
 Tony Burke's saloon, and the picture they presented 
 was formidable. The most of them were doubly 
 encumbered, with a six-shooter in the right hand, 
 and with a glass or bottle of liquor in the left. Their 
 hats were awry, their clothing was even more 
 tousled than when they arrived, and on the whole
 
 RANGY PETE 39 
 
 they presented the appearance of about as reckless 
 a band of cut-throats as even Rangy Pete would 
 care to meet. 
 
 At their head was Dervisher Dick, who, at the 
 distance, seemed to be a big swarthy person, and 
 who drew the mask over his face as he came into 
 the doorway. 
 
 "Even that is better than Dan Merrill," the girl 
 rider declared, with what Rangy Pete fancied was 
 more than the average show of bitterness. 
 
 Rangy knew nothing about psychology, yet he 
 felt that the moment was a most opportune one for 
 pressing inquiries upon the blue-eyed rider. Rather, 
 it would have been opportune except for the booming 
 of Dervisher Dick's voice. 
 
 "Hey, you, what you firin' them cannon about?" 
 the Dervisher leader bellowed. "Can't you see we 
 ain't half lickered up?" 
 
 The girl turned and pointed in the direction of 
 the Snaky Y. 
 
 Dervisher Dick tinted the air with much pro- 
 fanity, and mixed with it was a demand to know 
 who might be riding to the rescue of Triple Butte 
 at this most inappropriate hour. 
 
 "It ain't nobody but a whole army," Rangy Pete 
 informed from across the street. "Dan Merrill's 
 ridin' into town with about forty-fifty riders, that's 
 all. They's a shine on fer tonight." 
 
 Rangy Pete was surprised at the glibness with
 
 40 RANGY PETE 
 
 which the lies sprang to his lips. Ordinarily the 
 prospect of a fight between punchers and bandits 
 would have had a strong attraction for Pete, and 
 he would have gone to considerable pains to assist 
 such a function in the direction of its natural climax, 
 but just now he found that he was keen to hurry 
 the Dervishers out of Triple Butte and so beyond 
 the possible wrath of Dan Merrill and his punchers. 
 The only reason he could find for this change of 
 viewpoint was the question of the personal safety of 
 this blue-eyed rider immediately in front of him. 
 
 "Funny, ain't it?" Pete remarked to himself; 
 then he added aloud, "Yeah, Dick; an' they all got 
 their Winchesters, an' they been practicin' up 'cause 
 they's a rifle match on tomorrow with the Double 
 K " 
 
 Dervisher Dick roared out a sound which the 
 bandits interpreted into a command to mount, for 
 almost instantly the whole squad was in the center 
 of the road, while the two remaining road agents 
 dashed up from the direction of Burk Laxton's 
 bank. 
 
 "Get anything?" the leader demanded. 
 
 "Locked tighter'n a drum, and Laxton ain't 
 nowhere to be found," one of the men informed. 
 
 "That don't matter. We'll be back," Dervisher 
 Dick declared. "So long, Triple Butte." 
 
 "Wait, Dick," the blue-eyed rider called out. 
 "You're overlooking something."
 
 RANGY PETE 41 
 
 "Well?" the leader demanded, as he pulled his 
 horse in again. 
 
 "You know I always did like evaporated apples," 
 the girl replied coolly, "and there's been a full box 
 of them staring me in the face for the last fifteen 
 minutes. I know they'll be good, because they're 
 marked with Dan Merrill's name." 
 
 Dervisher Dick bellowed an exclamation of 
 approval as he leaped from his horse and bounded 
 across the roadway. He stooped over the box which 
 had recently been drawn from Ike (Hollander's stock 
 to be decorated with the Merrill shipping tag, and 
 as he fingered the tag he whooped out further 
 approval, which may or may not have been due to 
 the unwilling hospitality of Tony Burke. 
 
 "Hist her up, boys. I'll carry this myself," he 
 roared, as he tossed the box to his horse's back and 
 sprang into the saddle. 
 
 "Tell Dan Merrill I'm most uncommon grateful," 
 Dervisher Dick called back over his shoulder, as he 
 waved a gesture of opprobrium in the direction of 
 Triple Butte, and as the cavalcade sprang into a 
 gallop towards the trail which did not lead to the 
 Snaky Y. 
 
 Triple Butte stood quite still and watched them 
 go, being so grateful at the opportunity to rest its 
 palsied arms that it had no thought of sending any 
 bullets in the direction of the retreat. s 
 
 "Now wouldn't that hog-tie you?" Rangy Pete
 
 42 RANGY PETE 
 
 inquired of himself, as the dust swirled down the 
 highway, "and did that blue-eyed person give me 
 the wink or didn't she?" 
 
 Rangy Pete sighed laboriously; then he looked 
 across the highway and the grin returned to his lips. 
 
 The citizens of Triple Butte, as they were gathered 
 before his eyes, did not present a heroic spectacle. 
 There was too much rubbing and shaking of numbed 
 arms, and there were too many vainglorious oaths 
 as to what they would have done under other con- 
 ditions. Of them all, Tony Burke was the most 
 outraged, for he had lost money and liquor. Rummy 
 Lister and Lefty Merker were but little more exalted, 
 for their prestige could not be said to have improved 
 while their hands were fanning the air above their 
 heads, and the particular choice of undesirable 
 words which now slipped from their lips appeared 
 to be chosen with a view to regaining some of the 
 lost dignity. Buck Menzie and Lonzo Rafters, 
 having neither prestige nor dignity of which they 
 could be robbed while their hands were airing, were 
 accepting the situation with much less display of 
 anger, while the balance of Triple Butte's line-up 
 were loud in their demands for blood. 
 
 Rangy Pete picked up his revolver, slipped it 
 back into its holster and ambled across the roadway. 
 
 "Whyn't you do something when I give you the 
 wink?" Tony Burke loosened some of his restrained 
 emotion. "You been boastin' you could shoot the
 
 RANGY PETE 43 
 
 wings off en bumblebees, an' yet you stood there 
 with your hands clawin' the air " 
 
 "You don't mean to say that was you givin* me 
 the wink?" Rangy asked innocently. "Honest, 
 Tony, I thought youse blinkin' back the tears 
 'cause of all that good licker you lost fer nothing. 
 Gosh, Tony, if I'd only a knowed you wanted me to 
 fight we could just naturally a perforated the 
 Dervishers with holes. They got a bad scare. 
 Didn't you see that? They put one whole man to 
 watch only a dozen of you bad boys, an' that shows 
 they're kinda scared of Triple Butte 
 
 The balance of Rangy's thought was swallowed 
 up in the volume of a unanimous growl which 
 came from a dozen of Triple Butte's citizens. Out 
 of the confusion of that sound there emerged one 
 voice which Rangy Pete could identify. It was 
 Lefty Merker, the set-'em-up man, who, still smart- 
 ing under the threat of lost prestige, felt that it 
 might be well to make a bold stand now. 
 
 "I don't remember seeing you do anything so 
 awful brave, Pete," Merker growled out. 
 
 "What's that I'm a hearin'?" Rangy Pete 
 returned, his voice grown cold and free of all sugges- 
 tion of humor. "I'm thinkin' my ears have been 
 playing tag with me. Ain't that so, Lefty, er did 
 I really hear you say something, just some little 
 thing?" 
 
 Rangy Pete stood quite still, in careless pose,
 
 44 RANGY PETE 
 
 his hands resting easily akimbo, but there was some- 
 thing in his voice and manner which told every 
 citizen of Triple Butte within earshot that a crisis 
 was knocking on Lefty Merker's front doorway. 
 Except for that one stranger whom Lefty had 
 dropped with a left-handed shot, Lefty Merker was 
 an unknown quantity in Triple Butte. His repu- 
 tation as something of a bad man had been manu- 
 factured over the bar with the liquors he handed 
 out, and up to date none of the citizens of this semi- 
 peaceful community had cared to dispute the brand 
 which he put upon his own manufactured product. 
 So when Rangy Pete used words which challenged 
 Lefty's remarks, Triple Butte forgot instantly that 
 it had recently been visited by the Dervishers. 
 
 The next minute, they knew, would uncover the 
 real brand upon Lefty Merker, so quietly, almost 
 carelessly, the cluster of men drifted away from the 
 immediate vicinity of Lefty Merker and Rangy Pete. 
 
 "I'm a waitin' fer your answer, Lefty," Rangy 
 Pete went on, while his eyes never left the face of 
 Lefty Merker. "My ears ain't allus tellin' me the 
 truth, so I'm wanting that you should ease my mind. 
 Did I hear you say something reflectin' about me, 
 Lefty, er didn't I? That's right. Take your time 
 to think it over. They ain't no hurry. They's many 
 a man said words what he's repentin' about now to 
 the angels. Was you thinkin' of taking a long trip, 
 Lefty?"
 
 RANGY PETE 45 
 
 Lefty Merker's shifty eyes flamed, but his hands 
 did not move. He knew the folly of moving either 
 hand, except for the direct purpose of reaching for 
 the gun at his side. Yet it would be an even break. 
 His hands were as near his gun as were Rangy Pete's. 
 Still, there were those stories which he had heard 
 about Rangy 's speed with the six-gun. There were 
 also those curious eyes looking him over so coolly. 
 But Lefty Merker was not the type to fight on an 
 even break. All he asked was a sure thing. 
 
 "No, you didn't hear me say nothing about you 
 at all," Lefty Merker spoke grudgingly. "Fs 
 talking to Tony Burke. They wasn't anything 
 you could do. You had a man over you with a six " 
 
 "That's what I thought I heard you say, Lefty, 
 an' I'm sorta glad fer you that you didn't say 
 nothin' else. Now you can slope it out of sight." 
 
 Lefty Merker followed the suggestion, but the 
 expression of his shifty features carried with it no 
 promise of peace for the future. 
 
 "Why you wanta go pickin' a row with him?'* 
 Ike Collander asked querulously. "Ain't we got 
 enough trouble without that?" 
 
 "What you meanin' by we? You ain't never had 
 no trouble that I ain't hadda get you out of. But 
 you're standing around yammering like you allus 
 do, 'stead of getting a posse ready to chase them 
 Dervishers. I s'pose you'll leave it all to Rough 
 House Dan."
 
 46 RANGY PETE 
 
 Ike Collander, as well as the rest of Triple Butte, 
 did appear inclined to leave it to Merrill. And 
 Rangy Pete, in spite of his suggestion, proved even 
 more disposed than the others to trust the question 
 of retribution to the riders from the Snaky Y. 
 
 Tony Burke dashed from his saloon with the 
 excited announcement that his faro funds had 
 been looted, and he found Rangy Pete standing in 
 the roadway still arguing about the effects of the 
 Dervishers' visit to Triple Butte and the wisdom of 
 pursuit. 
 
 "They's some'll say it won't do us no good to be 
 put on the map by the Dervishers," he heard Rangy 
 holding forth, " but I ain't got such a narrow-lookin' 
 view of things as that. They ain't a town in two 
 states but what'll hear Triple Butte's been held up 
 by Wild Dick. Yeah, Buck Menzie, I know they'll 
 laugh. They couldn't do nothin' else if they'd a 
 seen your paws trying to pick the shingles offen 
 Tony's roof, but I ain't a thinkin' of that. An' they 
 won't be, neither, after they get through laughin*. 
 They'll be thinking Triple Butte must be some 
 long-horn or they wouldn't be no band of Dervishers 
 coming down here trying to slip their brand on us. 
 Yeah, Buck, it'll do us a lot of good, an' that's why 
 I'm sayin' we should be sorta grateful to Dick and 
 not send no posse after him. 'Sides, if a posse did 
 go out, I'm thinkin' Triple Butte'd be some less pop- 
 ulous afore they got through their target practice -
 
 RANGY PETE 47 
 
 "You ain't lost nothing. That's the reason you 
 talk that way," Tony Burke broke into the harangue. 
 "Me, Host " 
 
 "Sure you lost something, Tony, but go on and 
 ease your mind about it," Rangy returned coolly. 
 ** 'Tain't polite to stop thattaway in the middle of 
 the street. You musta lost a lot, Tony, 'cause you 
 been tellin' us all-long you never made no money 
 outa faro. But that don't matter, Tony. Go on 
 and tell us all about it. We got a sorta sympathizin* 
 heart today, an' they ain't no savin' but what we 
 might bust out and weep on yore shoulder. I 
 wouldn't hanker fer Dan Merrill to find me weepin* 
 on yore neck, Tony, but don't think of me when 
 you got something sobby to talk about." 
 
 Tony Burke's hasty retreat was the only indication 
 that he intended to withhold the story of his financial 
 losses, and the laugh which followed his withdrawal 
 from the scene told Rangy Pete that the temporarily 
 aroused spirit of Triple Butte was already sinking 
 back into its customary lethargy. Just now lethargy 
 in Triple Butte was what he wanted, though under 
 ordinary conditions he would have been among the 
 first to stir up a posse for a half-day's amusement 
 chasing the Dervishers. There would have been 
 sufficient sport and chance in that to make it well 
 worth the effort, but as Rangy Pete turned about 
 in the roadway and eyed the approaching dust 
 cloud which enveloped the riders from the Snaky Y,
 
 48 RANGY PETE 
 
 he told himself that conditions were quite out of the 
 ordinary. Assuredly they were far from the ordinary. 
 For though he had heard much about road agents, 
 and had caught a few personal glimpses of these 
 inconsiderate gentlemen, he had never before heard 
 of a band which left any portion of its work to a 
 blue-eyed rider with a girlish chin and lips. Any 
 pursuit on the part of Triple Butte would doubtless 
 lead to indiscriminate shooting, and bullets, Rangy 
 had observed, have no more respect for blue-eyed 
 riders than for black-bearded ones. 
 
 Rangy Pete was somewhat astonished at this new 
 touch of sentiment, but he could not quite down it 
 as he stood in the roadway and watched the progress 
 of the dust cloud. No, the only thing he could do 
 would be to delay the pursuit of the Snaky Y 
 punchers as long as possible; divert their attention, 
 if possible, and give the band of bandits with the 
 blue-eyed mascot an opportunity to vanish into the 
 hills, or into the chaparral, or wherever else they 
 felt most like vanishing. Then, after they had 
 vanished, there was just a chance that he might 
 drift along in the same direction, alone, of course, 
 and with the sole objective of determining whether 
 or not the balance of that particular rider's face was 
 as attractive as the blue eyes and the round chin. 
 
 "What you moonin' about? You can't put 
 nothing over me," a voice interrupted Rangy 's 
 thoughts. "I know why you ain't so dog-fired keen
 
 RANGY PETE 49 
 
 to be slopin' out after the Dervishers. It ain't 'cause 
 you ain't lost nothing, 'cause you never had nothing 
 to lose, and you llus been the first to wanta go 
 chasing such folks out of a peaceful life." 
 
 Rangy Pete carefully eyed the individual at his 
 side. Then he looked just as carefully about him, 
 and discovered that the rest of Triple Butte was 
 interested entirely in the riders from the Snaky Y. 
 
 "Ike," Rangy returned severely, "you got a 
 tongue in your head, an' you reached the discrim- 
 inatin' years of most-nigh forty, but you ain't 
 learned yet what a tongue's for. They's been more 
 people hung by the tongue than any other way I 
 know about. Now you been warned, Ike, so if you 
 wanta stick out yore tongue and lap it about yore 
 neck, jest go ahead and don't mind me." 
 
 Ike Collander leered with a daring born of friend- 
 ship, and in a manner which would have made 
 Lefty Merker envious. 
 
 "I ain't gonna say nothing what'll make you 
 sorry for yourself afterwards," Ike replied, as he 
 began the retreat to the "General Purpus" store, 
 "but I got eyes in my head and I seen the same 
 thing you seen, and that sure was a purty chin - 
 
 Rangy Pete picked up a pebble from the highway 
 and hurled it in the direction of Ike Collander, then 
 he turned about in time to avoid being run down 
 by the foremost rider from the Snaky Y. That 
 rider was Dan Merrill, big, broad and swarthy,
 
 50 RANGY PETE 
 
 burned by the sun and evidently by his passions, 
 with a cold, fearless eye, a ready gun at his belt, 
 and with a voice which did not hesitate to proclaim 
 its owner's wants. 
 
 " Set 'em up, Tony, and make 'em high and long," 
 Merrill bellowed from the doorway of the saloon, 
 as a troop of a dozen riders slithered to a halt behind 
 him. 
 
 Rangy Pete waited until the thirsty cavalcade 
 had made its way through the doorway, then he 
 followed in the same direction. He arrived in lime 
 to find Dan Merrill and his punchers surveying a 
 scene of liquid confusion. On other occasions Rangy 
 had viewed the waste spaces left in the wake of 
 too eager roisterers, but he had never before seen 
 any work quite so complete as that which had been 
 done by the Dervishers. The floor was a litter of 
 broken glasses and "dead soldiers," while the saw- 
 dust which was sprinkled about to give courage to 
 wavering feet was a guttering mess of flowing liquor, 
 and the wonderful array of enlivening cheer which 
 had stood so conveniently within the reach of Lefty 
 Merker's right hand was nothing but a blank of 
 desolation. 
 
 "What you been doing, Tony?" Merrill roared, 
 when his first astonishment gave place to words. 
 "Don't you know this isn't the place to break in 
 cay uses?" 
 
 " Cayuses? " Tony Burke roared in reply. " They's
 
 RANGY PETE 51 
 
 been something here worse'n cay uses. The Dervishers 
 was here not a half hour ago. They got all my faro 
 money, and if you got any heart, Dan, you'll go get 
 'em for me." 
 
 Merrill swaggered slightly as he turned about to 
 his band of punchers who had suddenly become 
 grim-faced. 
 
 "What you say, boys? We get 'em?" 
 
 "We rope 'em by the neck," replied Bill Sonnes, 
 who came as near as any man ever did to dominating 
 that band of hard-riding, hard-drinking punchers 
 from the Snaky Y. "We come to town for a bit of 
 sport. We might's well get it bumping off Dervishers 
 as any other way." 
 
 "W T hich way'd they go?" Merrill demanded. 
 
 "Took the trail towards the Double K," Burke 
 informed, "but they'd branch at the Little Forks 
 and hit for the buttes. Ain't that about it, Rangy 
 Pete?" 
 
 " They sure ain't loco enough to ride the Double K 
 trail far, 'cause I know the Double K boys most 
 well's I know you Snaky Y buckos, and they'd just 
 naturally pump a whole lot of lead after Dervisher 
 Dick if they ever set eyes on him," Rangy Pete 
 replied in reflective manner; "and I'm sorta thinkin' 
 it ain't such awful tough luck for you buckos that 
 they do keep clear of the Double K. Them Double K 
 boys is most awful permiskuous with lead, and I'm 
 hearin' they ain't forgot how Bill Sonnes downed
 
 52 RANGY PETE 
 
 Baldy Tipper the other day. They're sorta hintin* 
 that Baldy got it from the side, 'stead of lookin' it 
 straight in the face." 
 
 A silence fell over Tony Burke's saloon. 
 
 Rangy Pete was leaning easily against the bar, 
 and Bill Sonnes was conveniently placed less than 
 ten feet distant. The puncher's eyes grew ominous 
 at the words, but when his swift glance took in the 
 fact that Rangy's hands were hanging limply at 
 his sides, he permitted his expression to change and 
 he broke out into a lolid laugh. 
 
 "Mr. Judge Pete, since you wanta ride me thatta- 
 way, I'm tellin' you that Baldy dodged and that's 
 why he got it in the side. But I ain't gonna tell 
 them Double K boys. They can go on thinkin' 
 what they wanta think, and whenever they want Bill 
 Sonnes he won't be hangin' back none from obligin'." 
 
 "That's awful polite of you, Bill," Rangy Pete 
 declared. "With them kind words I'm thinkin' I'll 
 throw a saddle on my cayuse after a while and fly 
 down to the Double K with a sprig of olive in my 
 teeth. Now if it's all the same to you, I'll be slippin' 
 behind the bar to help Lefty Merker set 'em up. 
 Lefty got a scare a few minutes ago and he's apt 
 to break things 'less he gets some help." 
 
 Rangy Pete assisted at the liquidating ceremony, 
 and he assisted so freely and readily that the Snaky 
 Y punchers could hardly place an emptied glass 
 upon the bar before it was brimming again.
 
 RANGY PETE 53 
 
 "They ain't no use holdin' back, boys," Rangy 
 encouraged. "This here is on the house, 'cause 
 Tony's gonna say it is after a while. Rummy Lister 
 should be doin' this, but he gotta scare, too, an' he's 
 summers back behind nursing a grouch. It ain't 
 no fun stickin* your paws in the air fer fifteen 
 minutes while a gun's lookin' you between the eyes 
 and askin' fer business. Rummy sorta lost his 
 angora, but he'll be right fit tomorrow." 
 
 Dan Merrill seemed oppressed with a new thought, 
 for he suddenly roared out with more bellowing 
 volume than he had yet displayed: 
 
 "I'd sorta forgot to ask what all you men was a 
 doing when the Dervishers was here. I don't remem- 
 ber nowise hearin' shots. An* I don't see no wrecks 
 ner no sawbones at work. Was you all standin' 
 with yer paws in the air, Pete?" 
 
 "We sure was, Dan," Rangy Pete replied soberly. 
 "I was a reachin' up alia time tryin' to hand Ike 
 Collander's chimbley down to one of them road 
 agents. He sorta seemed to be takin' a hankerin' 
 fer that chimbley, and you know what an obligin' 
 cuss I am. I kept on a reachin' and a reachin' but 
 I didn't get it, Dan. But you shoulda seen the rest. 
 They's a whole dozen of them got both hands up 
 and sayin' 'please, teacher' to a pore little road 
 agent what's tremblin' in his shoes." 
 
 Dan Merrill roared with every evidence of delight. 
 
 "If that's what happened, boys, we'll let the
 
 54 RANGY PETE 
 
 Dervishers go," Merrill declared, when he was able 
 to command his voice again. "Triple Butte's some 
 fightin' Little town. It's wild hosses all over again, 
 and I ain't gonna take no risks of draggin' my pore 
 boys into no kind of a big fight what Triple Butte'd 
 start. No sir, not me. They don't get me into no 
 world war like that." 
 
 Rough House Dan roared with further delight, a 
 portion of which was appreciation of his own vocal 
 effort. He was still mixing laughter with liquor 
 when Tony Burke flared at him. 
 
 "That's my licker you're drinking, Dan Merrill, 
 and I'm asking you to go after them Dervishers. 
 Ain't I been telling you they got my faro layout?" 
 
 But Merrill's merriment went unchecked. 
 
 "It oughta be worth it to see you fellers sticking 
 yer paws into the air," Merrill declared. "If you'll 
 go out and do it all over again, Tony, I'll foot the 
 bill what the Dervishers run up against that faro 
 joint." 
 
 "Yer laughin' too soon, Dan Merrill." Buck 
 Menzie came to the rescue of Tony Burke. "They's 
 such a thing as laughin' at the other side of the 
 face." 
 
 "What might you be meanin' by that, Buck?" 
 Merrill demanded, with an abrupt dropping of 
 humor. "If you got something to say, say it, but 
 if you ain't, I'll be pitchin' you out in the dust." 
 
 "They lifted something of yours, that's all I
 
 RANGY PETE 55 
 
 wanta say," Menzie returned. "They took that box 
 of evaporated apples what come in for you on the 
 stage this mornin'." 
 
 "Good heavens!" Merrill exclaimed, with a swift 
 glance about his band of punchers, "but you're 
 lyin', Buck." 
 
 "Lyin' nothing," Menzie flared. "If you don't 
 think so, ask Rangy Pete. He's standin' right on 
 top of them at the time." 
 
 "That right, Pete?" Merrill asked excitedly. 
 "Did the Dervishers get my box of evaporated 
 apples?" 
 
 "I would'n wanta say nothin' fer sure about 
 that," Rangy reflected calmly. "I would'n say they 
 was yore apples. But they was a box of 'vaporated 
 apples on Ike Collander's front steps, an' they had 
 on 'em a tag what had yore name on it. That's the 
 box the Dervishers took. Mabbe they's yores, an' 
 mabbe not." 
 
 A surprising change came over Dan Merrill. 
 With a few swift words he whipped his men into 
 action. Glasses were hastily put upon the bar with 
 their contents but half consumed, and there was a 
 hurried racing for the horses still standing in the 
 center of the roadway. 
 
 Rangy Pete followed to the doorway, and he saw 
 that Dan Merrill, big, swarthy and restless, was 
 already mounted at the head of his band of 
 riders.
 
 56 RANGY PETE 
 
 "They went the Double K trail?" Merrill 
 demanded again. 
 
 "They sure did," Tony Burke called back, as the 
 troop spurred the drooping cayuses into life and 
 swirled down the roadway amid a cloud of dust. 
 
 Rangy Pete crossed the road to Ike Collander's 
 steps, and there, with the curious Ike peering through 
 the doorway, he stood and watched the cloud of 
 dust sweeping its way along the trail so recently 
 taken by the Dervishers. 
 
 Pete turned about and faced the astonished Ike. 
 
 "Ike Collander," he drawled deliberately, "you 
 see what happened? I told you Dan Merrill had a 
 weak spot you could stick a finger through. I been 
 known to wrassel a flock of red-eye in my day, but 
 I'm thankin' my guidin' stars I ain't no 'vaporated 
 apple fiend."
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 THE dust cloud was still large in the immediate 
 line of vision when Rangy Pete was seized with an 
 idea. 
 
 "Ike, what you standin' there gapin* at?" he 
 demanded. "Why ain't you out in the corral 
 thro win' the saddles on our cayuses? And while 
 you're about it, you might's well roll up a tote of 
 flour and a few swabs of bacon. We mayn't be back 
 for two-three days." 
 
 " We mayn't, eh? " Ike Collander leered from the 
 doorway. "You got your grammar most awful 
 mixed up. You mayn't come back forever fer all 
 I care; but me, I'm back already. 'Cause I ain't 
 goin* nowhere with you." 
 
 "Ike," Rangy Pete began severely. 
 
 "Don't Ike me," the small person roared out, 
 "fer I ain't a gonna go. I got a store to look after. 
 'Sides you ain't a gonna burn the hide offen me by 
 ridin' over to the buttes." 
 
 Rangy Pete considered the rebellious Ike from 
 the tips of his toes to the scraggly fringe of his hair. 
 Then he shook his head sorrowfully. 
 
 "They ain't no punch in you no more, Ike," he 
 declared. "Times ain't what they once used to be. 
 
 57
 
 58 RANGY PETE 
 
 You ain't no kind of a pal, when you go throwin* 
 me down thisaway. But I'm thinkin' you're right, 
 Ike. They wouldn't be no way to get you acrost 
 to the buttes. You'd just naturally fry up and run 
 out the toes of your shoes afore we got half way 
 there. But that ain't gonna keep you from throwin* 
 that tote of grub together; and see't you don't let 
 the hoss flies roost on that sign I been paintin' while 
 I'm gone. They ain't nothin' quite so bad as hoss 
 flies to muss up red paint, and you'd a knowed 
 that, Ike, if you hadn't been thinking so much about 
 your miserable ole hide. You otta know things 
 like that, Ike, er you ain't never gonna be no promi- 
 nent citizen of Triple Butte. An' don't talk so 
 much while I'm away. If they's anybody I don't 
 like, it's a person like you, Ike, what's alia time 
 runnin' about with his tongue flappin' in the air." 
 
 Ike Collander, from the entrance to a flour barrel, 
 made certain spluttering sounds which brought a 
 fresh grin to Rangy Pete's lips. In that, Rangy 
 appeared to recognize a familiar sound, for he 
 promptly ambled into the store and crossed to the 
 vicinity of the flour barrel and the stock of bacon. 
 
 "Atta boy, Ike, lemme do the work now," Rangy 
 pleaded. "I ain't a gonna have you doin' alia work 
 around here. I don't see why you ain't fired me 
 long ago, Ike, an' you woulda if you hadn't got such a 
 kind and lovin' heart. But, Ike, you got the patience 
 of a long-lost, errin' father a mournin' fer a model
 
 RANGY PETE 59 
 
 son. Now if you'll pull your head outa that flour 
 barrel and let sumbody work, little Pete'll be hittin' 
 the trail about as soon's you got that cayuse 
 saddled. " 
 
 But Ike Collander, it appeared, was past the 
 breaking point of exasperation. He emerged from 
 the flour barrel white and bristling. He attempted 
 some sputtering words, but failing entirely in this 
 purpose, he hurled a tin of canned goods in the 
 direction of Rangy Pete's head. The latter dodged, 
 and the tin landed, with disastrous effects, in the 
 middle of a neat array of bottled essences lining 
 the wall. 
 
 "There you go again, ruinin' all my goods." 
 Rangy spoke with a peevish tone. "Ain't I told 
 you afore 'at canned goods is to eat and not to go 
 smashin' no bottles with?" 
 
 But Ike Collander had retreated with his wrath 
 in the general direction of Tony Burke's bar, and out- 
 side the saloon he found some half dozen citizens 
 already mounted and ready to follow the same trail 
 taken by the riders from the Snaky Y. A moment 
 later Rangy Pete led his cayuse from the corral, 
 and any one who had been in the least inclined to 
 make observations would have noted that, while the 
 others were ready for light riding, Rangy had his 
 saddle-bags well filled. But no one seemed to notice 
 Rangy's condition. 
 
 "Gonna join us, Pete?" Buck Menzie demanded.
 
 60 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Mabbe so, and mabbe not. Depends on which 
 way your hoss's tail is pointin'. If it's pointin' 
 straight towards the noise of battle and stickin* 
 out like a hoss a lopin', I'm with you, Buck. An* 
 I'm thinkin' that's the way you'll be ridin', 'cause I 
 sorta remember seein' your hands a clawing higher 
 into the air nor anybody else's. " 
 
 Buck Menzie did his utmost towards the tinting 
 of the atmosphere with words, but Rangy Pete 
 only grinned and remained leaning against a hitching 
 post while the Triple Butte posse spurred off in the 
 direction taken by the Dervishers and then by the 
 riders from the Snaky Y. 
 
 Rangy Pete mounted, then turned about and saw 
 Ike Collander standing in the saloon doorway. 
 There was a marked wistfulness in Ike's simple 
 features, and Ike's eyes, which shortly before had 
 been glistening with anger, traveled meaningly in 
 the direction of the Collander corral. Ike, it was 
 plain, had a hankering to follow whatever trail 
 might be set by Rangy Pete, and that despite any 
 previous words to the contrary. 
 
 "Ike, I'm surprised at you," Rangy reflected 
 aloud. "What's that I'm seein' in your hand? You 
 don't mean to say you're smoochin* some red-eye. 
 Well now, I'll have to be speakin' to the gospel 
 boy about you, Ike. I'll tell him when I lope past 
 the tent that you're a lost heathen and that you're a 
 needin' his saving tongue. Just you stand thattaway
 
 RANGY PETE 61 
 
 till he gets here, Ike, an' you'll be a changed man by 
 the time I get back. " 
 
 Ike's barometrical wistfulness swung back to 
 exasperation, and Rangy Pete, seeing this, eased 
 his cayuse into a lope and set out along the trail 
 which had just been traveled by the posse of Triple 
 Butte. 
 
 "Poor Ike," Rangy reflected, as he rode along. 
 "There's only one way to make Ike stay at home, 
 and that's to get him bristling about the neck. And 
 what I'm gonna do ain't no trail for Ike to ride." 
 
 In time he reached Little Forks, the branch in 
 the trail forced by the out jutting of a spur from one 
 of those far-off buttes which stood out against the 
 sky, dun and jagged and saw-toothed, and uninviting 
 now in the gray sunlight. 
 
 Little Forks was a name only. It carried with it 
 no suggestion of a structure of any sort, and it 
 might be said to be the border line, drawn by some 
 imaginary law of the plains and the buttes and 
 separating those two forces of mankind. On the 
 one hand were the hard-bitten, keen-eyed riders 
 of the sage lands; on the other hand were the lawless 
 riders, the Dervisher Dicks, who were always a law 
 unto themselves. 
 
 At Little Forks Rangy Pete paused to study the 
 trail before him, and almost instantly the keenness 
 of his eye picked out that which he had hoped to see. 
 
 Rangy's years upon the plains had taught him
 
 6* RANGY PETE 
 
 something about the futility of these mad dashes 
 into the butte lands with punitive mind fixed upon 
 road agents such as the Dervishers. Merrill, he knew, 
 would appreciate the same, once the preliminary 
 of his strange fit of anger wore away. For the 
 Dervishers had ways of their own of evading frantic 
 pursuits such as the riders from the Snaky Y were 
 at this moment leading far to the west. The method 
 was simple in its effectiveness, and it was nothing 
 less than scattering as a flock of birds will sometimes 
 scatter. 
 
 Sooner or later, Rangy Pete knew, the Dervisher 
 riders would drift away one by one from the main 
 body; they would hide in the chaparral until the 
 heat of the pursuit lashed by, then they would 
 calmly ride back the way they had come, seeking 
 refuge in that tangle of draws and hills which went 
 to make up the fringe of the butte land. 
 
 That would be the Dervisher system for melting 
 away into nothingness. Rangy had known it long 
 before he saw this lone trail of hoofprints pointing 
 towards him and coming from out that tide of 
 pursuit. 
 
 One of the Dervishers had already doubled back 
 upon the trail, and the rider, he could see, had 
 swung down towards the Double K ranch. 
 
 Rangy Pete chuckled to himself softly. Tin; story 
 of that single rider was as plain to him as the signs 
 of the sky.
 
 RANGY PETE 63 
 
 One rider had swung back, seeking refuge in the 
 buttes one rider, the first. And who would be the 
 first of the Dervishers to be given the opportunity 
 for freedom? 
 
 "Blue Eyes," Rangy confided to himself. "There 
 never was a surer guess in the world. Now all I have 
 to do is to follow your trail, Blue Eyes, until I catch 
 up with you, and then " 
 
 Rangy paused just there. To be quite frank with 
 liimself , his mind was not entirely clear as to just how 
 that sentence could be finished. His brain was 
 equally vague as to what had prompted him into 
 this strange expedition instead of riding madly along 
 the trail as the Snaky Y punchers and the Triple 
 Butte posse were doing. It was something foreign 
 which had touched his emotions. Perhaps it was the 
 sparkle of those blue eyes; perhaps it was the trim 
 dignity of the figure which had stood guard over 
 him; perhaps it was the conviction that the girl's 
 last recognition of him had been a taunt; but however 
 unplaced might be the purpose in his mind, Rangy 
 Pete knew he would ride the course of Blue Eyes 
 until he found her, or until he knew pursuit to be 
 hopeless. 
 
 And here before him was her trail. 
 
 He was still chuckling softly to himself when from 
 behind him there came the startling sound of a voice. 
 
 " Hey, you old fly-bitten maverick, what you doing 
 there?"
 
 64 RANGY PETE 
 
 Rangy Pete turned about methodically. There 
 were only two classes of people who would take such 
 liberties with his nomenclature. It would be an 
 enemy who would have him properly covered, or it 
 would be one of the riders from the Double K. As 
 he turned, Rangy caught sight of a rider sitting his 
 horse in lazy fashion by the edge of the chaparral. 
 
 "Hello, you old dog-eared pinto," he greeted in 
 return. "Have you seen anybody ride this way, 
 Jumbo?" 
 
 "Sure," that individual informed. "About a half 
 hour ago I saw a rider loping it for the Lone Shadow 
 butte down towards the Double K. " 
 
 "What'd he look like?" Rangy pressed. 
 
 " Go on and ask me, Rangy. I didn't see anything 
 but his back at a half mile range, so what do you 
 expect?" 
 
 Rangy Pete nodded reflectively. This situation 
 was really gratifying after all. For it had not been a 
 part of his intentions that his knowledge of the lady 
 bandit should be shared even by as good a friend as 
 Jumbo Irish of the Double K ranch. Still, his pres- 
 ence at Little Forks demanded an explanation. 
 
 "Did you see a whole army go charging past here 
 a while ago, Jumbo?" he asked casually, as his glance 
 drifted down towards the Lone Shadow butte. 
 
 "All I saw was their smoke. That's what made me 
 drift up along this way. What's happened to the 
 world, Rangy?"
 
 RANGY PETE 0$ 
 
 "Nothing at all," Rangy considered, "nothing 
 except that Triple Butte got itself put on the map this 
 afternoon. A person by the name of Dervisher Dick 
 done the trick. Funny how it happened. It's 'cause 
 he stole some 'vaporated apples that Dan Merrill 
 and the whole Snaky Y crew are burning up the 
 trail at this minute. " 
 
 Rangy's remarks were greeted by laughter which 
 did not attempt to conceal its impoliteness. That 
 laughter, containing as it did the full, rich taunts of 
 friendship, necessitated an elaboration of facts on 
 the part of Rangy Pete. 
 
 "So you see," he informed sagely, at the conclu- 
 sion, "that person you saw hitting for the Lone 
 Shadow butte must have been a Dervisher, and, 
 Jumbo Irish, that's what dragged me away from 
 my cozy home. I'm out on the lone, bagging Der- 
 vishers. " 
 
 "And I'm with you," Jumbo informed with 
 startling suddenness. "We'll sure camp on his trail 
 till he thinks we growed there. " 
 
 Under other conditions the association of Jumbo 
 Irish would have been a welcome thing to Ran cry 
 Pete; but just now, with this little prompting in his 
 brain which he had not quite solved, association of 
 any kind would be an encumbrance. Jumbo simply 
 must be disposed of in some manner or other. For a 
 moment he reached up a lean hand and toyed with the 
 tip of his left ear. Then abruptly he grinned broadly.
 
 66 RANGY PETE 
 
 "I'm thinking it wouldn't be nowise fair, Jumbo, 
 for two great big buckos like you and me to set out 
 after one little Dervisher," he deliberated aloud, 
 "and there wouldn't be any fun in that anyhow. 
 Whyn't you get a Dervisher of your own?" 
 
 The suggestion, it became obvious, was not with- 
 out its appeal to Jumbo Irish. Still, he had a doubt 
 to express. 
 
 "Where do I get him?" he demanded. 
 
 "Where I got this one." Eangy continued to 
 grin. "We follow the trail till we find where another 
 Dervisher sloped it away; then you can take him, and 
 I'll take this one." 
 
 Enthusiasm suddenly glowed from the eyes of the 
 Double K puncher. 
 
 "You betcha, " he declared, "and I'll lay you down 
 a stack of yellow boys that I romp my Dervisher 
 into Triple Butte before you get yours there. Say, 
 but won't it sort of set Triple Butte on the 
 ear when we mooch in there with our little Der- 
 vishers?" 
 
 To Rangy Pete, a wager on the success of his expe- 
 dition against Blue Eyes was hardly in conformity 
 with those restless thoughts in the back of his brain; 
 but now, with Jumbo's keen eyes upon him, it had 
 become a necessity. 
 
 "Sure, Jumbo," he conceded, "make it fifty 
 yellow boys that I get my Dervisher into Triple 
 Butte before you land yours there. Now we'd better
 
 RANGY PETE 67 
 
 be looking about for the place where yours left the 
 trail." 
 
 Side by side they cantered up the dust-churned 
 trail, and a half mile from Little Forks the air was 
 suddenly startled by Jumbo Irish's mocking laughter. 
 
 "I ain't saying that I believed that evaporated 
 apple story when you told it, Rangy," he rounded 
 out his laughter with an explanation, "and I don't 
 believe a word of it now. For ain't that pieces of 
 evaporated apple scattered along the trail?" 
 
 Observation compelled Rangy to admit the accu- 
 racy of Jumbo's charges. Continued study of the 
 trail revealed the fact that for a space of a quarter of 
 a mile or more there were small fragments of evap- 
 orated apples strewn along the route and trampled 
 into the dust by the lashing feet of many horses. 
 Eventually, there was the discarded box, empty and 
 cast by the trail side. 
 
 Rangy Pete jerked his horse to a halt. 
 
 "Funny, ain't it?" he demanded. "Here the 
 Dervishers raid Triple Butte and steal Merrill's 
 'vaporated apples, and Merrill don't take no worry 
 at all about what they do to Triple Butte until he 
 hears that they've been stealing his apples. Then 
 he sort of goes into a tantrum ; and now we find these 
 apples a-decorating the trail 
 
 Though Rangy glanced rather helplessly at his 
 companion, Jumbo's only answer was a gesture of 
 impatience.
 
 68 RANGY PETE 
 
 A half mile farther on they discovered the point 
 in the trail where the second rider had slipped away 
 from the pursuit and had made almost directly 
 across the chaparral-strewn plains for the mouth of 
 the Pelican draw. 
 
 "Now you got your boy, I'm thinking we'll be 
 meeting farther on," Rangy commented. 
 
 Jumbo Irish nodded swiftly. 
 
 "Mabbe so," he admitted. "I know the Pelican 
 runs into the Lone Shadow draw about ten-fifteen 
 miles up the buttes, but, Rangy, I don't aim to let my 
 Dervisher get that far. S'long, Rangy. Meet me in 
 Triple Butte, and have that fifty smackers ready to 
 hand over to me." 
 
 With scant ceremony Jumbo Irish vanished among 
 the chaparral, and as he disappeared among the 
 solemn gray shadows of the plains, Rangy once more 
 chuckled to himself softly. For the way had been 
 cleared for the swift and silent pursuit of Blue 
 Eyes. 
 
 Swiftly, with a single gesture of the arm, Rangy 
 swung the burnt-yellow cayuse about in the trail 
 and he urged the animal into its long, measured lope 
 directly across the chaparral-tangled plains for the 
 mouth of the Lone Shadow draw. And as he rode 
 silently he found himself pondering those hidden 
 lures of the girl's features; he found himself wonder- 
 ing just what would be the full cast of her counte- 
 nance when that disfiguring mask was withdrawn
 
 RANGY PETE 69 
 
 and shortly he caught himself up sharply with a 
 muttered exclamation. For Rangy Pete had dis- 
 covered that he was smiling to himself at the prospect 
 of the future.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 RANGY PETE knew this Lone Shadow draw by 
 heart, as far as its juncture with the Pelican. He 
 knew, as well, that there were several butte land 
 ravines drawing in and converging upon The Pass 
 that cut in the higher buttes which marked the 
 border between the bleakness of the sun-burned 
 rocks and the fringes of the forested hills beyond. 
 
 Beyond the Pass, he knew, there was a strangely 
 tumbled land of hills and gorges , forested valleys and 
 bare mountain peaks, which, for all he could say, 
 stretched on to the rim of the world. It was in that 
 confusion of hills and valleys that the Dervishers 
 made their home, and for a time, as Rangy thought 
 of the possibility of the blue-eyed one finding refuge 
 there and becoming lost to his sight forever, he 
 spurred the yellow cayuse into swifter pace. 
 
 That had been in the early afternoon, but now, 
 with the cool shadows about him, he knew that his 
 earlier haste had been waste effort. 
 
 For there before him, just a few hundred yards 
 distant, was a tiny pin-point of light cutting its way 
 through the gloom of night. Some person was 
 camping in the draw, by the spring, with all confi- 
 dence and security, and even at this distance he 
 
 70
 
 RANGY PETE 71 
 
 could smell the pungent odor of smoke which drifted 
 lazily down towards him. 
 
 Rangy hid the cayuse behind a boulder and began 
 to crawl forward upon hands and knees. 
 
 Dead smoke upon the air. The lingering flavor of 
 coffee and bacon. Some person camped by the 
 spring, and taking no precautions whatever! 
 
 That, of course, would be like the daring of Blue 
 Eyes. 
 
 For a time, as he stole forward through the dark- 
 ness, Rangy felt a new and unknown pounding of the 
 blood in his veins. 
 
 Then shortly he came to a boulder which lay 
 between him and the pin-pricking of light. For a 
 time he peered beyond the edge of rock, but he could 
 see nothing except the wavering of shadows. At 
 length he felt his way silently to the top of the 
 boulder, but the only distinct vision which greeted his 
 eye was the smouldering embers of a dying campfire. 
 Quite plainly, the object of his pursuit was not present. 
 
 Shortly he heard the shuffling of restless feet. The 
 Dervisher was returning from a point farther up the 
 trail. 
 
 In that instant Rangy found himself wondering 
 just how the capture of Blue Eyes, the bandit, was 
 to be accomplished. If only she would throw more 
 chips upon the fire. But no. She seated herself 
 calmly, with back towards him, contemplating the 
 smouldering coals.
 
 7t RANGY PETE 
 
 Blue Eyes twenty feet from him now, and quite 
 unaware of his presence! Yet the position was a 
 difficult one. It might even become embarrassing. 
 
 The bandit shifted, sat erect, glanced about over 
 the right shoulder, as a restless animal will sometimes 
 do when it scents the presence of some alien ele- 
 ment. Quite plainly the road agent was becoming 
 ill at ease. Rangy's presence doubtless had con- 
 veyed some message to the other through one of the 
 submerged senses called instinct. 
 
 Yet in the slow turning of the head which was 
 followed by a careful scrutiny in all directions, Rangy 
 failed to catch even a dim view of the person's 
 profile. The shadows were too deep for that; the 
 dying coals were wrongly placed. The whole situa- 
 tion was wrong. It was becoming uncomfortable, 
 mentally as well as physically. He could not wait 
 for the morning light to give him a full view of Blue- 
 Eyes' face, even if this jagged rock were not already 
 eating into his bones. 
 
 "No, Mr. Lady, they's only one way to make 
 this round up," Rangy informed himself in his char- 
 acteristic style. " It shore ain't gonna be none polite 
 fer me, ner dignified fer you, but if you had'n been 
 so plumb foolish about wearin' that eye-blanket 
 back in Triple Butte, this most mabbe wouldn't a 
 happened. Rangy Pete, yer jest doin' it to shake 
 off what that Methody fellow called the illusions. 
 It's most likely gonna be them apples he talked
 
 RANGY PETE 73 
 
 about what turned to ashes in the mouth. When you 
 lay eyes to her, she'll be a double-crossed rip ringer; 
 them blue eyes most likely squints, an' if she's got 
 much of that yeller hair what you seen, she'll look 
 worse'n that cayuse. 'Sides, I'm bettin' she's got a 
 tongue what'll make you crawl, an' if she ain't got 
 a kick like a pinto, Rangy, you owe yoreself about a 
 few drinks when you get back to Tony Burke's. 
 'Tween you and me, Pete, they's only one way to 
 make the lady's acquaintance without gettin' some 
 surplus holes punched in yore hide what could do 
 without 'em. So here's lookin' at you " 
 
 Rangy Pete reached back and brought his lariat 
 into more convenient position, and he began to 
 rearrange its folds carefully. It was a twenty-foot 
 throw, but that meant nothing to him, even in the 
 semi-darkness. Still, the work was not enviable. 
 After all, the throwing of a lasso about her shoulders 
 would not be quite the most promising way to renew r 
 acquaintance with the blue-eyed rider. If she were 
 all the unpleasant things he had imagined, then the 
 lariat experience would not matter; but if, on that 
 one off-chance 
 
 Rangy played with the lasso for an unnecessary 
 length of time, and while he did so the bandit became 
 more restless still. Now Rangy saw that his proposed 
 victim had partly risen to her feet, had rolled a 
 cigarette and was smoking it freely. 
 
 "That ain't quite the thing what a perfect lady
 
 74 RANGY PETE 
 
 should do, blue-eyed or not," Rangy admonished to 
 himself, "but I s'pose they has been worse habits 
 nor that cured." 
 
 With that, Rangy Pete made a dull scraping sound 
 upon the face of the rock, and as the road agent 
 stiffened to listen to the sound the lariat twirled 
 out through the night air and landed in a neat circle 
 over the head. Rangy gave a quick jerk and instantly 
 the person's arms were tightened at the sides and 
 the bandit was as helpless as though looking into 
 the mouths of a half dozen derringers. 
 
 Whatever Rangy Pete may have expected from 
 the lone camper, he had not looked for the rigid 
 silence with which his attack was greeted. Beyond 
 a slight straining upon the rope as though to test 
 out if the situation were really true, his victim made 
 no struggle. Assuredly there was no outcry. 
 
 "You shore got a level head, purty Blue Eyes," 
 this time Rangy spoke his compliments aloud, "an* 
 afore this little seance goes any farther I'm wantin' 
 to apologize most awful humble fer the sorta impo- 
 lite way I butted into yore thoughts - 
 
 Rangy paused, to give the other an opportunity 
 to release some of the natural spleen which would 
 attend such a situation. But there was no answer. 
 
 "I'm knowin' you must be kinda sore, Blue Eyes, 
 fer this rough and ready way of makin' yore acquaint- 
 ance, but they wan't no two ways about it. I jest 
 hadda have another peek at you."
 
 RANGY PETE 75 
 
 Another pause. Still no answer. 
 
 "Yer a queer one," Rangy volunteered. "You 
 don't allus keep yore tongue shut up in the corral 
 thattaway, do you? Fer if you do, I ain't a sayin* 
 but what I'd admire you a most awful lot for it. 
 If you got a mad on, jest kinda let it loose. Horn 
 right in an' say what you like. You don't need 
 to mind me none; 'sides, it'll make you feel 
 better ' 
 
 Another fruitless pause, though this time there 
 was a slight downward straining at the rope, as 
 though the captive knew of some concealed weapon 
 not far from the finger tips. 
 
 Rangy Pete felt that the situation was growing 
 more difficult. It was quite bad enough to have 
 captured a female bandit after she had shared so 
 recently in the holding up of a group of patently 
 respectable citizens, but it was much worse to have 
 that bandit retreat into silence in this manner. With 
 one hand upon the lariat to keep it firm about the 
 other's body, Rangy scrambled down the face of the 
 boulder and so came to earth within a few feet of 
 the captive. The latter's back was turned, but even 
 had the face been towards him Rangy knew that 
 the light from the fire was too dim to permit him 
 to see his prisoner's features. One thing he noticed 
 this person was tall, taller than he had expected, 
 and of a much more athletic build. Of course it was 
 going to be a case of ashes in the mouth, and after
 
 76 RANGY PETE 
 
 all he wouldn't lose that wager to himself about the 
 girl having a kick like a pinto. 
 
 "They ain't no use standin' there in the sulks," 
 Rangy pleaded. "Now listen, little Blue Eyes, 'cause 
 I wanta tell you something. I got a bet on with a 
 friend of mine what says if I take you into Triple 
 Butte afore he takes his bandit in I win a stack of 
 yellow boys. That shows I ain't got no hard feelin's 
 agin you. It's all 'cause me an' that fool feller made 
 a bet. That's funny, ain't it? Whyn't you laugh, 
 Blue Eyes?" 
 
 The captive swung about with a harshness and 
 volume of voice which were astonishing. 
 
 "Who the hell are you? And what's that 
 you're talking about bandits?" the voice demanded. 
 
 The tone and the undoubted masculinity of the 
 voice came to Rangy Pete with something of a 
 shock, for until their character swept aside all sug- 
 gestion of femininity it had not occurred to Rangy 
 even remotely that this person could be other than 
 Blue Eyes. 
 
 Rangy Pete blinked, but in the darkness the 
 stranger did not observe that. 
 
 "I wouldn't go whisperin' thattaway," Rangy 
 returned, when he had recovered from his astonish- 
 ment. "They ain't nobody within about a few 
 miles, an' they might go hearin' you. People is 
 strange thattaway. They don't know no better'n 
 to go listenin' in on private conversations, an' some
 
 RANGY PETE 77 
 
 people is foolish enough to go yammerin' their heads 
 off about what they hear. F'rinstance, I would'n 
 want anybody to know 'at you didn't like the feel 
 of a rope about you. It might sorta create the 
 wrong idea that you have one of them natural 
 hostilities to bein' hung - 
 
 ''Who are you, and what do you mean by horning 
 in on my affairs in this way? " the stranger demanded, 
 with equal vigor, though with modified voice. "If 
 you are a road agent, go ahead and rob me and get 
 it over, but for Heaven's sake take this rope off me." 
 
 "Yeah, there you go, callin' this li'l boy a road 
 agent/' Rangy returned with aggrieved voice, "an' 
 seein' 'at you give me the name I might's well get 
 what credit's comin' to me. If you don't mind 
 standin' still, Stranger, I'll sorta disencumber you of 
 that flock of hardware what you're wearin' so 
 perrniskuous like." 
 
 With that, Rangy Pete advanced cautiously upon 
 the stranger, and while the other stood perfectly 
 still he removed a fine assortment of arms. 
 
 "Yeah, momma's innocent li'l pet should'n be 
 runnin' around the woods thisaway," Rangy reflected 
 as he examined his winnings. "He ain't got nothin' 
 to take care of hisself none, an* when a great big 
 bucko puncher comes along - 
 
 "Are you going to tell me what you mean by 
 this outrage, or are you going to sit there all night 
 like a kid?" the stranger insisted.
 
 78 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Shore, don't mind me, Mr. Road Agent. Go 
 right on sayin* things to make me feel special friendly. 
 I'm that soft-hearted, I'm most shore to bust out a 
 weepin' soon. This li'l boy can't stand no sech kind 
 words, Mister - 
 
 "What do you mean by calling me a road agent?" 
 the irate one interrupted, quite overlooking Rangy's 
 mood. 
 
 "You don't mean to say 'at you ain't one," Rangy 
 asked, with apparent surprise, and with his slurring 
 drawl uppermost. "Now ain't that jest the funniest 
 thing alive? But I'm gonna tell you somethin* 
 funnier nor that, Mister. You jest pack yoreself 
 atop of that saddle sorta half comfortable like, an' 
 listen while I tells you a sorrerful tale. They's a pore 
 li'l town out here a ways what's got the name Triple 
 Butte tacked onto it tighter'n a brandin' iron could 
 put it there. They's nothin' but peaceful citizens in 
 Triple Butte; wouldn't never shoot up a person 
 'less jest fer a little bit of fun. They's so nice and 
 tender they's got a gospel boy there jest holdin* 
 open the pearly gates fer 'em all to walk in. An* 
 then this afternoon, you wouldu' believe it, Mister, 
 but they's a great big bunch of road agents comes 
 in an' steals all Dan Merrill's 'vaporated apples. 
 It's a hard world, Mister - 
 
 "Fool," the stranger inserted his personal opinion 
 of Rangy Pete. "What's all that got to do with me? 
 And what do you mean by coming out to my camp
 
 RANGY PETE 79 
 
 and holding me up in this way? If you'll just give 
 me back one of my guns for about thirty seconds 
 I'll fill your hide so full of lead it'll pay to melt you 
 down." 
 
 "Now that's what I calls right obligin'," Rangy 
 declared warmly. "An* any time I gets that han- 
 kerin' feelin' fer lead, Mr. Stranger, I'll be lopin* 
 along yore way. But since this here conversation's 
 gettin' personal, I might's well tell you, Stranger, 
 'at while I had my hands a pawin' the air back there 
 in Triple Butte, I's usin' these holes in my head 
 what's called eyes. It got my eyes so set on yore 
 hoss and yore funny duds, Mister, 'at I could'n 
 never forget 'em nohow. That's how I come to be 
 traipsin' out here after you." 
 
 Silence for a moment. 
 
 "Well, what you going to do about it? Take me 
 back to Triple Butte? Since the time is past for 
 bluffing, I may as well tell you, you long-shanked 
 puncher, that if you have any respect for what's 
 inside that hide of yours, you'll think about a dozen 
 times before you take me to Triple Butte." 
 
 "I can't think no dozen times all to onct, 'cause 
 when they built me they put all the quick spots in 
 my fingers," Rangy replied. "So if it's alia same to 
 you, Stranger, you might throw a little 'lumination 
 on the scene." 
 
 "What I mean is that if you take me to Triple 
 Butte or to any other place, there'll be such an
 
 80 RANGY PETE 
 
 epidemic of grave-digging that you'll wish you 
 never heard of me." 
 
 "I'm wishin' that already, Mister. An' won't it 
 be some consolin' to you to know you'll hit the 
 bottom of the first grave if them Dervisher pals of 
 yours starts any fun?" 
 
 "Touch me, and they'll shoot up the whole town," 
 the man returned obstinately. 
 
 Rangy Pete appeared to be reflecting upon the 
 value of the stranger's words, and he sat in silence 
 for the time it took him to smoke the half of a 
 cigarette. 
 
 "I'm not sayin' we could'n reach a dicker, 
 Stranger," he replied at length. "Jest prick up yore 
 ears now an' tell me if you didn't hear me a callin' 
 you Blue Eyes a few minutes ago?" 
 
 "Certainly I heard you, and I thought you just 
 as crazy then as I think you are now. What do 
 you mean by Blue Eyes?" 
 
 "I gotta confess, Stranger, 'at I been lyin' to you. 
 You ain't the Dervisher what I picked out back 
 there in Triple Butte, though this's most confidential 
 like. If you ain't willin' to take it confidential, jest 
 you yammer now afore it's too late that bein' 
 the case, if I ever hears 'at you ain't been treatin' 
 this conversation confidential, I'll come a gunnin' 
 yore way. Now, Mr. Man, I'm a gonna ask it 
 straight. Is there, or isn't there a woman a riding 
 with yore pack?"
 
 RANGY PETE 81 
 
 "None of your damned business," the bandit 
 flared. 
 
 "Thank you for tellin' me they is a lady," Rangy 
 Pete returned imperturbably. "Now, seein' 'at 
 they's a lady in the pack, the next thing is this. 
 Has she made ample provisions to escape?" 
 
 "Again none of your- 
 
 "I ain't hankerin' none to hear that impolite 
 word the second time," Rangy inserted a protesting 
 voice. "Since you been tellin' me the lady had her 
 plans all set for leaving the pack, where'd you say 
 she was gonna slope it?" 
 
 The captive loosened upon the air an assortment 
 of explosive objurgations which caused even Rangy 
 Pete to sit back in astonishment, and in the end he 
 assigned Rangy to the hottest place which the 
 imagination of the ancients was able to conjure. 
 Then, literally speaking, he closed the door upon 
 Rangy and turned his back. 
 
 Rangy contemplated that back for a moment 
 while he toyed with the tip of his left ear. 
 
 "I shore gotta admire yore flow of words, Mister, 
 if that's what yer biddin' for," he resumed. "I ain't 
 noways stingy with my compliments, so I'm gonna 
 say 'at if you'd set up a school summers to teach 
 cowpunchers how to swear, you would'n have to 
 be no road agent no more." 
 
 The stranger's back merely shrugged. 
 
 Abruptly Rangy 's eyes centered upon the rope
 
 82 RANGY PETE 
 
 turned about the bandit's body, and immediately 
 his fingers came away fromthe tip of his ear and a 
 grin came to his lips. Rangy remained silent while 
 the grin had its way, then he continued: 
 
 "I'm not sayin', Stranger, but what yore back's 
 a hull lot less hurtful to the eyes than yore face, 
 but I'd shore like most awful well to have you swing 
 yore face about so's I can yammer at it." 
 
 Another shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 Rangy promptly gave a side jerk at the lariat and 
 the captive spun about like a top. 
 
 "Say, Mister, they ain't no use crawlin' back in 
 yore shell thattaway," Rangy protested, but this 
 time some of the idleness had left his voice and in 
 its place had come a firmness which even a road 
 agent must recognize as worthy of respect. "You 
 ain't been nowise polite to me, but I'm tryin' to 
 remember 'at a puncher's moreuva gent nor a 
 bandit. Now, comin' down to tacks, you heard me 
 say a minute ago 'at we might make a dicker." 
 
 There was something in Rangy Pete's tones which 
 commanded an answer. 
 
 "What is it?" the road agent demanded. "We 
 aren't in the habit of making dickers with people 
 we meet." 
 
 "They shore ain't nothin' like gettin' new expe- 
 riences," Rangy confided, "but the dicker's this. 
 They's been a blue-eyed lady a ridin' with yore 
 pack of bandits, an' I wanta know where she's
 
 RANGY PETE 83 
 
 hangin' out about this minute. You can tell me if 
 you like, an' if you don't like, you can have as much 
 time as you want, up to five minutes, to patter yore 
 prayers. That's what I calls a fair dicker. Youse 
 got a chance to tell a gent what he wants to know, 
 er youse got a chance to flock on ahead and see if 
 it's all true what that Methody gospel boy's been 
 a say in' down to the tent." 
 
 The road agent laughed harshly and again informed 
 Rangy Pete that he would see him in a warmer 
 climate before he would give the information. 
 
 "Seein' as you've mentioned the place, I'm 
 guessin' that's where you will be hikin'," Rangy 
 returned, quite unmoved. "The five minutes starts 
 right now. I ain't got no time-piece on me, so I'll 
 jest count 'em out when I think the minutes is up. 
 When I says 'five', if yore tongue ain't started to 
 flap in the right direction, then that's a li'l tip to 
 me 'at I can lay in an' get busy. One." 
 
 "How you going to get busy?" the bandit 
 demanded, with some show of interest. 
 
 "Now I should'n go to givin' away no secrets. 
 That's a li'l s'prise I got waitin' fer you. Jest let 
 li'l pet be patient, an' he'll get what daddy's got 
 waitin' fer him. Two. Three." 
 
 The minutes were ticking off with alarming speed, 
 with much greater speed than actual facts would 
 justify, but Rangy Pete was more intent upon 
 impression than upon fact.
 
 84 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Four," he called abruptly. 
 
 The bandit's eyes quivered slightly, but that was 
 the only indication he gave that he was accepting 
 the situation seriously. 
 
 "Five," Rangy boomed some fifteen seconds 
 later. "They ain't no use delayin' a good deed." 
 
 Rangy stepped forward sharply, and immediately 
 began to spin the bandit about, coiling the rope 
 around his victim with each twirl of the body. 
 Then he caught the spinning body, steadied it, 
 knotted the rope, faced the man down the draw, 
 and commanded, 
 
 " March, pronto. I'll be lopin* along right behind, 
 so" 
 
 "What do you mean by this outrage?" the bandit 
 stormed, as he began to follow Rangy 's orders. 
 
 "Nothin' serious nohow," Rangy informed, as 
 they tramped along through the darkness. "I got 
 a funny little yeller cay use down the draw a ways. 
 He's got the queerest little trick you ever heard of. 
 Some punchers musta taught him. Whenever they 
 uses him fer lynchin's, fer drawin' the body up, you 
 know, he seems to think it's fun to ease back a bit 
 when the swingin' party begins to kick. That lets 
 said party's toes jest touch the ground, an' he shore 
 is a long time a kickin' off. You'd be s'prised, 
 Stranger, how that li'l yeller cayuse seems to know 
 jest how much to ease back. He sorter keeps it 
 goin' back and forth, see-saw like, an' he does it so
 
 RANGY PETE 85 
 
 long 'at I'm wonderin' if he don't get more fun 
 outuv it ner anybody else - 
 
 "What's all that got to do with me?" the bandit 
 insisted. 
 
 "What's 'at got to do with you? Oh, yes. Funny, 
 .ain't it, 'at I'd fergot to tell you before? Teller 
 cayuse ain't had no practice fer a long time now, 
 an' I'm jest a goin' to see if he's forgot the trick. 
 You'd shore admire to see it yoreself, Mister, only 
 I don't see how it could be fixed up to give you a 
 special seat, seein' they's only the two of us, an' 
 seein' 'at I jest gotta test out yeller cayuse myself. 
 Funny I didn't think of it afore, Stranger, but I'll 
 tell you what I'll do. I won't put no bandage on 
 yore eyes when cayuse pulls you up, an' I'll build a 
 bonfire so's you can see how yeller cayuse does the 
 trick. You shore will admire li'l yeller boy. He's 
 the most human lynchin' cow-pony I ever run 
 acrost. You see, Stranger, we does it this way. We 
 ties the swingin' party up jest like yer tied up now. 
 Then we finds a cottonwood with a big branch a 
 stickin' out. They's one down the draw here a ways 
 what you'd think had been made spechully fer 
 accommodatin' said cantankerus parties what needs 
 lynchin'. But what I's gonna say is that we ties 
 up said party, throws a rope around his neck, throws 
 t'other end over the branch, ties it to the cayuse's 
 saddle, an' then speaks sorta gentle to the cayuse, 
 kind as though we wanted him to draw easy an'
 
 86 RANGY PETE 
 
 not make no quick job of it. But you will see how 
 li'l yeller cayuse does it. I'll build the fire right 
 clost, an' then I'll stand ahind you so's to keep yore 
 eyes turned towards cayuse kinda keep you from 
 swingin' " 
 
 Rangy Pete stopped and he appeared to ponder 
 through the night. Then, a moment later, as he 
 urged his captive forward, he resumed: 
 
 "It kinda bothered me to think mabbe you'd be 
 admirin' yeller cayuse a hull lot fer the way he's 
 doin' his work, an' you would'n be able to tell me 
 nothin' about it. Seein' 'at I'd have to 'skuse you 
 fer not talkin', 'count of the rope, you know, they's 
 gotta be some other way. I tell you what I'll do, 
 Stranger. I'll kinda leave one arm loose up to the 
 elbow, an* if you likes the way cayuse is workin' 
 you flops that arm a whole lot; but if you don't like 
 it, an' wanta get loose to talk over things what you 
 mighta talked about beforehand, you keeps that 
 arm tight to yore side. Here we are, Stranger, 
 yeller cayuse standin' right where I left him an' 
 I bet the little cutie's jest pinin' fer a job." 
 
 Rangy Pete leaned the Dervisher up against a 
 boulder and immediately devoted his attention and 
 his words to the burnt-yellow cayuse. 
 
 "Don't go friskin' around thattaway, li'l feller," 
 Rangy admonished. "Yer a funny li'l devil, ain't 
 you? You kin allus smell them onnecessary gents 
 a comin' down the trail, cain't you, yeller boy?
 
 RANGY PETE 87 
 
 But you should'n go to gettin' none frisky this time, 
 'cause he's a great big, crool man, an' mabbe he'll 
 kick most a lot. What's that yer sayin'? You'll 
 pull him up easy, jest a wee li'l bit at a tune? See't 
 you do it, yeller boy, 'cause I don't want you to go 
 strainin' no muscles." 
 
 Rangy Pete stopped talking to motion the bandit 
 to resume the journey down the draw, and after a 
 few minutes of stumbling through the darkness he 
 called a halt. The bandit, being handicapped in his 
 means of locomotion, was glad to stop. He leaned 
 up against the first object which seemed to offer 
 him any support. 
 
 "That shore is one fine cottonwood what yer 
 huggin'," Rangy 's encouraging voice resumed. 
 "Great big trunk, could'n nohow break down. An* 
 if you'll jest twist yore head up a bit you'll see that 
 limb about twenty foot from the ground. They's a 
 knot all set right to keep the rope from slippin', 
 so's you won't nowise get hurt by floppin' agin the 
 trunk. I've had my eye on that limb, Stranger, off 
 an' on fer most nigli ten year, an' I ain't never seen 
 it yet without wonderin' what it'd look like to see 
 a bandit a hangin' from it 
 
 At this point the road agent's nerve began to 
 break. Through the first of Rangy 's chatty con- 
 versation he remained with his back against the 
 trunk of the cottonwood, but towards the end some 
 compelling power forced him to step quickly away.
 
 88 RANGY PETE 
 
 He stepped towards Rangy Pete, and he appeared 
 to be straining forward in an effort to study Pete's 
 countenance. For Rangy's manner was as matter-of- 
 fact, as casual and unflurried as though he were 
 discussing plans for the cooking of the next meal. 
 There was something disconcerting in Rangy's care- 
 less manner, something more nerve-breaking than 
 as though he had indulged in a variety of 
 threats. 
 
 "What you going to do to me?" the bandit asked, 
 with an attempt at bluster. 
 
 "Hear that, li'l yeller cayuse? The gent with 
 the ribbons all flockin' about him wants to know 
 what yer gonna do. Do you want that I should tell 
 him, yeller boy? Don't go whisperin' to me thatta- 
 way, 'cause the gent's deef an' it don't matter none. 
 I been a tellin' him about a couple of times, an' 
 he ain't heard yet - 
 
 "Don't stand there chattering," the captive broke 
 in, "but for Heaven's sake tell me what you're 
 going to do to me." 
 
 "There you go, yeller boy, ain't I been a tellin' 
 you said gent's most awful anxious fer you to start? 
 He can't wait nohow - 
 
 Again the captive broke in, this time with n fine 
 variety of expletives. 
 
 "You shore do make me envious of yore flow of 
 words," Rangy replied, as he scraped up chips, 
 refuse, dead leaves and small branches from the
 
 RAMiY PETK 89 
 
 cottonwood into a small pile and began to kindle 
 them into a fire. 
 
 9 
 
 'Tain't what I hoped it'd be. Stranger," Rangy 
 spoke encouragingly, "but if we don't waste no 
 time, it'll be burnin* about right by the time you 
 wants to use it fer seein' how li'l yeller boy does 
 his work." 
 
 With that, Rangy Pete leisurely untied a second 
 rope from the pommel of the saddle, looped it over 
 the limb of the cottonwood with the first throw, put 
 his full weight upon it to test the strength of the 
 branch, then carefully adjusted one end of the rope 
 around the bandit's neck. He was walking unhur- 
 riedly towards the cay use with the other end of the 
 rope in his hand when the captive broke in again, 
 with the least amount of fortitude which he had 
 yet displayed. 
 
 "For God's sake, man, are you crazy, or what's 
 wrong with you? Are you a lunatic, that you could 
 hang a man in cold blood like this?" 
 
 Rangy paused long enough to kick the tiny fire 
 into a brighter flame. 
 
 " Hear that, cayuse? " Rangy replied. " The gent's 
 tryin' to get kinda friendly, callin' us purty names, 
 but don't you go to pay in' no attention to him." 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, stop that terrible chatter, 
 if you're not too crazy, and tell me what you mean 
 to do." The captive started the sentence in a rational 
 voice and ended it in a scream.
 
 90 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Ain't gonna do nothin' atoll," Rangy returned. 
 "I'm jest gonna tie this rope to yeller boy's saddle, 
 what I shoulda done this afternoon afore I left 
 Triple Butte, an' then I'm a goin' back to yore 
 camp. I kinda forgot somethin' up there. My head 
 ain't a workin' right, Stranger. They's somethin' 
 sorta gone wrong, an' I can't remember what it is." 
 
 Rangy Pete calmly tied the rope to the saddle, 
 and by this time there was enough flare from the 
 fire to enable the other to see that the work was 
 genuine, and that should the yellow cayuse suddenly 
 be prompted with a desire to move away the results 
 would be disastrous. 
 
 "My God, I knew you was crazy!" the captive 
 stormed. "Don't you know that if that fool cayuse 
 moves, he'll hang me?" 
 
 "Hang you?" Rangy asked in surprise. "That's 
 funny, ain't it? I do sorta remember thinkin' some- 
 thin' about hangin' a man, but that was last week. 
 It wasn't you, was it, Stranger? No, 'twan't you, 
 'cause I don't ever remember seein' you afore." 
 
 Rangy went to the left saddle-bag, opened it, 
 took out a double handful of grain, placed it in his 
 hat, and began to walk towards the cayuse's head. 
 
 The captive attempted speech, then stopped again. 
 
 Rangy calmly placed the feed in front of the 
 cayuse's nose, and the animal took a step forward. 
 The movement drew the rope snug about the road 
 agent's neck.
 
 RANGY PETE 91 
 
 Rangy Pete sat down upon the ground, some few 
 feet in front of the cayuse. Then he leaned over 
 abruptly and pulled the horse's food a foot farther 
 away from the cottonwood. The cayuse immediately 
 stepped forward and the movement swung the 
 bandit from his position on the ground, carried him 
 three or four feet through the air and deposited him 
 with his feet once more upon the ground imme- 
 diately beneath the knot on the cottonwood limb. 
 
 "They's one thing I kinda forgot to tell you - 
 Rangy spoke calmly while the captive was regaining 
 his breath "the cayuse jogs back and forth tha,tta- 
 way 'cause he's eatin' a meal. Yeller boy don't look 
 noways comfortable the way he's standin' now, so 
 I'm thinkin' I'll hafta move him a bit closer to me." 
 
 As Rangy reached out for the hat of food, the 
 bandit screamed out a protest. Rangy looked at 
 him in surprise. 
 
 "Don't you go to worryin' none about yeller boy 
 not gettin' his feed," he soothed. "It does look 
 kinda crool fer me to snatch it away from him 
 thisaway, but he's got legs, Mister, four of them, 
 an' he'll step forward." 
 
 Again Rangy reached out his hand. 
 
 "No, my God, it isn't that," the bandit gasped, 
 "but you'll hang me. What do you want? I'll tell 
 you anything you wanta know." 
 
 "Was they somethin' I was a wantin' to know, 
 Mister?" Rangy Pete asked with evident astonish-
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 ment. "I'm sorta forgetful like, but it does kinda 
 seem they was somethin' - 
 
 With his hand still reaching out for the cayuse's 
 food, Rangy paused as though pondering something 
 which was quite beyond the limit of his intelligence. 
 The light of the fire, shining upon his bronzed 
 features, showed a puzzled face, and that did not 
 lessen in the least the bandit's impression that he 
 really had to do with a madman. 
 
 "Yes, don't you remember, you were asking me 
 about a woman?" the captive prompted. 
 
 "A woman?" Rangy Pete replied. "Jest you go 
 to hearin' that, yeller boy. Said gent behind you 
 what's most onnecessary to the landscape has In'rn 
 sayin' somethin' about a woman. He's most mabbe 
 likely to go temptin' us. An' we don't want la l>c 
 tempted none, do we, yeller boy? Cummon, cayinc, 
 an' eat some nice - 
 
 "Don't do that," the bandit screamed, as Rangy 
 once more made a move to draw the feed closer to 
 him. "Have you gone stark mad? Don't you 
 remember a few minutes ago you were asking me 
 about a woman you called Blue Eyes? You thought 
 I was her - 
 
 Rangy Pete drew a hand across liis eyes, as 
 though to brush away a daze. When he looked buck 
 at the captive there were still puzzled lines upon 
 his features, but there was also a show of interest 
 which had not been there the minute before.
 
 RANGY PETE 93 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty, Stranger! " he exclaimed, "I do 
 sorta remember it now. Funny, ain't it, cayuse, 'at 
 I should ferget anythin' like that? My head ain't 
 right, Stranger, ain't been right fer a year, an' I 
 kinda get things mixed up. But I ain't mixed none 
 now, 'cause I remembers all about Blue Eyes. It's 
 last week, Stranger,' at I's sorta lopin' along after 
 Blue Eyes - 
 
 "Last week?" the captive bellowed. "Good 
 heavens, man, you're crazy as a loon! It was just 
 a few hours ago. Can't you remember nothing?" 
 
 Rangy Pete shook his head sagely, and he assumed 
 as cunning a glance as his experience would permit. 
 
 "Naw, Stranger, you cain't fool me thattaway. 
 I remembers the hull thing now. I'm a lopin' after 
 Blue Eyes down the Double K way, when what'd 
 I see but some frisky gents a rustlin' some of the 
 Double K brands. I remembers how me and Jumbo 
 Irish and Baldy Tipper and some other punchers 
 chases said gents, an' we catches one of them. Yeah, 
 Stranger, yer shore the gent what we catched 
 
 The captive interrupted with some sounds which, 
 because of their volume, proved unintelligible. 
 
 "Shore, jest as you been sayin', Mister, we took 
 you over to Triple Butte fer trial, an' Ole Judge 
 Slocum decided you was plumb undecorative to the 
 scenery an' 'at you'd hafta be bumped off. I kinda 
 remembers the hull thing now. Funny, ain't it, 
 how I f ergot it thattaway; but I told you my head
 
 94 RANGY PETE 
 
 ain't allus right. I could'n think a while ago what 
 I's doin' here with you, an' you with a rope around 
 yer neck, but now I remembers alright. I'm the 
 deputy, Mister, what does all the swingin's, an' yer 
 the hoss thief what we caught down the Double K 
 way." 
 
 Rangy Pete looked up at the captive, and as the 
 light from the fire played over his countenance it 
 showed features which had become entirely blank 
 of expression. 
 
 "My God, man," the bandit gasped out, "I'm 
 not a horse thief, an' you're not the deputy. Listen 
 a minute, man, and let me explain." 
 
 Rangy twisted his head to one side as though 
 listening carefully, and he did not overlook the 
 marked tremor which had come into the captive's 
 voice. 
 
 "I'm guessin I've got you lined up plumb so's 
 you'll tell the truth fer once in yore life," Rangy 
 Pete remarked to himself, while outwardly he merely 
 continued to turn his head curiously in the direction 
 of the other man. 
 
 "Listen," the bandit continued, with the tremor 
 still manifest. "I am not a horse thief. I am one 
 of the Dervishers, the road agents, you know. We 
 went to Triple Butte this afternoon for some reason 
 which Dervisher Dick didn't tell me 
 
 Rangy Pete laughed suddenly and harshly. 
 
 "Funny I fergot," Rangy exclaimed, "but I
 
 RAM.Y PETE 95 
 
 knows now why he went. He's a 'vaporated apple 
 fiend, jest like Dan Merrill. He went to git them 
 'vaporated apples." 
 
 It was quite evident, even through the semi- 
 darkness, that the bandit shivered, and a look of 
 intense fright passed across his features. 
 
 "Yes, my good fellow, it was to get the evaporated 
 apples," he decided to humor Rangy, with the 
 quaver still in his voice. "We got the apples, and a 
 posse chased us. You were one of the posse, don't 
 you remember? And when I left the main party of 
 Dervishers and dodged back this draw, you followed 
 me. You thought I was Blue Eyes - 
 
 "An' who's Blue Eyes?" Rangy demanded in a 
 puzzled way. 
 
 "She is a woman who's been riding with us. 
 I think you must have seen her in Triple Butte this 
 afternoon. You were really following her when 
 you got on my track. Now that's the whole thing. 
 That's how you come to be here, and why I've got 
 this rope around my neck. You weren't sent out 
 to hang me. You told me a while ago that if I 
 wouldn't tell you where Blue Eyes was, you would 
 hang me 
 
 "Gosh!" Rangy exclaimed, "did I tell you that, 
 Stranger? An' I ain't never heard of Blue Eyes 
 before. Here, you cayuse, back up a bit an* let the 
 Stranger talk. He's gonna tell us a purty story about 
 Blue Eyes. What's yore name, Stranger?"
 
 96 RANGY PETE 
 
 "They call me Buzzard Flynn," the captive 
 informed, with a faint show of returning confidence. 
 "I'm one of the Dervisher riders, and if you take 
 this rope off me so I can walk about a bit, I'll show 
 you where you can find Blue Eyes - 
 
 "I ain't sayin' 'at I want a see Blue Eyes none. 
 I ain't so awful set on women folks." 
 
 A little of the fright returned to Buzzard Flynn 's 
 face. 
 
 "But you said when you saw me first that you 
 were after Blue Eyes," he prompted hopefully. 
 
 "Did we say that, cayuse?" Rangy demanded of 
 the animal at his side. "We shore is funny in our 
 heads at times, yeller cayuse. But go on an' tt-ll 
 me, Buzzard." 
 
 "You said you just wanted to get another look 
 at Blue Eyes' face," Buzzard recalled. "Now I 
 know just where Blue Eyes was going to leave the 
 band, and I know where she will be camping for the 
 night. We had that all arranged ahead of time. 
 We always do. So if you'll take this rope offen me, 
 I'll show you right where she is." 
 
 Buzzard Flynn pitched his voice in as placating 
 a tone as possible a tone designed to wheedle the 
 fevered brain of a crazy man. 
 
 "Shore you ain't foolin' me, and 'at they is sech 
 a woman?" Rangy demanded, with a show of 
 interest. 
 
 "Honest to God, man, there is. If your head
 
 RANGY PETE 97 
 
 wasn't all wheels, you'd know that yourself. Come 
 with me and I'll show you. Just take this rope off " 
 
 Rangy Pete sprang to his feet and began a sudden 
 display of activity. 
 
 "I'll shore go with you, Mr. Buzzard, but I ain't 
 gonna take no rope off yore neck, 'cause if we don't 
 happen to find no lady, it'll be plumb useful right 
 where it is." 
 
 Rangy untied the rope from the saddle, threw it 
 back over the cotton wood limb and retied it to the 
 saddle. Then he frisked Mr. Buzzard Flynn's 
 pockets in a most thorough manner to guarantee 
 that the gentleman was not hiding out any weapons 
 which might prove dangerous in the dark. After 
 that he loosened the Dervisher's bonds to allow 
 him much greater freedom of movement. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Buzzard Flynn, we're ready to lope 
 along. You an' me'll jog out in front an' let li'l 
 cayuse come along ahind. My head's kinda feelin' 
 right now, Mr. Buzzard. It goes that way at times, 
 sorta off an' on. An' 'cause I'm feelin' charitable 
 like now, I wanta tell you 'at you should'n try no 
 tricks, fer you don't know when my head's gonna 
 get queer again. You get funny, an' all I gotta do 
 is whistle. When I whistles, yeller cayuse allus acts 
 like a plumb fool. He allus turns around an' acts 
 like he thought they's a square meal a runnin' away 
 from him in t'other direction. I'm tellin' you this, 
 Mr. Buzzard, 'cause we're sorta friends now, an'
 
 98 RANGY PETE 
 
 I would'n noways want you to get hurt none. Now 
 you jest saunter along pronto, an' I'm thinkin' 
 you'd better find that person you call Blue Eyes 
 afore mornin', 'cause they's times around mornin' 
 when I do get queer ideas into my head. Want me 
 to tell you what I done onct in the mornin'?" 
 
 "No! No! For Heaven's sake, let's hurry! I'll 
 take your word for it," Buzzard Flynn declared, as 
 he started to lead the way up the draw. 
 
 Rangy Pete swung in at his side, with the cayuse 
 rather less than the length of the rope behind. At 
 Flynn's camp Rangy caught the bandit's animal, 
 saddled it, collected everything in the way of equip- 
 ment, and then resumed his place in the line of 
 march, leading the other animal. 
 
 "Since you been askin' me to tell you what I 
 done onct in the early mornin', I s'pose I'll haft a," 
 Rangy continued the conversation. "I don't s'i> oso 
 I'd remembered, except when I's deputy before, me 
 an' another gent most nigh as onnecessary as yon, 
 was a roamin' about thisaway when I got kinda 
 lonesome. I sorta forgot cayuse, an' started to 
 whistle, just like this - 
 
 " Don't !" the other shrieked a hurried interruption. 
 
 "No. Perhaps I had'n better. I's most nigh 
 forgettin' again. Anyways, I started to whistle, 
 an' yeller cayuse, he don't know much about music, 
 so he jest naturally thought of 'at meal a runnin' 
 away from him. I remembers now. That's how
 
 RANGY PETE 99 
 
 I lost my job as deputy. Wanta see how li'l cayuse 
 does it, Mr. Buzzard?" 
 
 "I'll take your word for it," Buzzard Flynn 
 returned hastily. 
 
 Rangy Pete made a chuckling noise in his throat, 
 but Mr. Buzzard Flynn, mistaking that for a further 
 manifestation of insanity, quickened his pace as he 
 led the way up the draw.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 As he made his way through the darkness, within 
 arm's length of the stumbling Buzzard, Rangy Pete's 
 brain was keenly alert. That is why he began to 
 toy with the future, and why he succeeded only in 
 startling himself. 
 
 He knew quite well the direction hi which they 
 were feeling their way, and that brought with it 
 two distinct sources for alarm. This route was 
 leading directly into the buttes, and if there really 
 were a bandit rendezvous tucked away somewhere 
 in the heart of the butte lands, it would not be a 
 particularly difficult thing for Buzzard Flynn to 
 lead him fairly into it. 
 
 The Buzzard, he could see, was making his way 
 confidently, and as swiftly as the handicaps of the 
 night would permit, in a well defined direction; 
 and that spoke of an assured purpose in the Buzzard's 
 mind. With care, Buzzard Flynn might spring a 
 trap upon him; but that was the least alarming 
 feature of the situation. 
 
 For the course which Flynn was taking led 
 straight towards the Pelican draw. And hours ago 
 he, Rangy Pete, had seen Jumbo Irish riding swiftly 
 
 100
 
 RANGY PETE 101 
 
 and arrow-like in that same direction. The thought 
 of that was a frightening thing. 
 
 "Where is this blue-eyed person?" Rangy 
 demanded, with such sudden intensity of manner 
 that Buzzard Flynn's answer was almost mechan- 
 ical. 
 
 "She is over here hi one of these other draws," 
 he informed hastily. "That is what we arranged. 
 We left the main party one at a time, and then, 
 after hiding out for the night, we know right where 
 to meet tomorrow, or the next day 
 
 "Don't yammer your head off. What draw is 
 she in? Tell me that." 
 
 Rangy's interruption was an impatient one, and 
 it encouraged a prompt response. 
 
 " She's hiding in the Pelican draw " 
 
 "Goin' to stay there all night?" Rangy's inter- 
 jection was more fevered still. "Was she going to 
 camp the same as you?" 
 
 "Ain't that what I been telling you?" 
 
 "Then mooch along. Show some speed." Rangy 
 issued his instructions with an intensity which 
 astonished himself. 
 
 There was so much intensity in his manner that 
 he wondered just why it was there. He wondered 
 why he should object to Jumbo Irish taking the 
 prize which he had allotted to himself. When he 
 thought of the blue-eyed bandit falling into the 
 hands of Jumbo, a warm flush of anger rose to his
 
 102 RANGY PETE 
 
 cheeks and rested there for many minutes while he 
 drove the Buzzard along with furious stride. 
 
 Yet when he grew more calm it was difficult to 
 understand just why his emotions should have 
 risen at all. Judged with a calmly measuring brain, 
 there was not a reason in the world why a woman 
 who played the role of a bandit should be any more 
 free from punishment than a man; yet Was it 
 that he himself had wanted to be the means of 
 inflicting that punishment? No, it could not have 
 been that, for such a thought left him more angry 
 still. 
 
 Just what had brought him here anyway? Though 
 Rangy pondered that point through many minutes, 
 he failed to find a satisfying answer. Yet, in the 
 lack of an answer, why should he feel resentment 
 towards Jumbo Irish taking the blue-eyed bandit 
 back to Triple Butte? 
 
 For Rangy had not the slightest doubt of Jumbo's 
 efficiency. Nor had he the least thought that Jumbo 
 would tarry long in the winning of that stack of 
 fifty yellow boys. 
 
 The Pelican draw, he knew, was miles closer than 
 his own position to that spot where he had parted 
 from Jumbo Irish in the middle of the afternoon, 
 and when he recalled that fact, Rangy felt the fever 
 burning in his veins once more. Beyond doubt, Irish 
 would already be on his way back to Triple Butte 
 with the female bandit as his captive.
 
 RANGY PETE 103 
 
 
 
 And whatever may have been his plans for the 
 future, that had not been within the range of his 
 calculations. A brave show he and Triple Butte 
 would make, to capture the one woman in the band, 
 while the real renegades slipped through the net! 
 And Jumbo Irish, he knew, would have no such 
 thoughts of compunction. For Jumbo's brain would 
 be toying only with that wager of fifty yellow boys. 
 
 "Faster!" Rangy 's voice prodded Buzzard Flynn 
 into a still more rapid stride; yet what he hoped to 
 gain by it was more than Rangy knew. 
 
 Still, there was just the one chance. 
 
 "You know where she was goin' to camp?" he 
 asked with an anxiety which he kept from his voice. 
 
 "Sure thing," the Buzzard informed. "I'll lead 
 you right to the place, if you'll trade me for her." 
 
 That chance, Rangy knew, was that Jumbo Irish, 
 confident in his capture and in the shorter miles to 
 Triple Butte, might wait until daylight for the 
 making of the return trip. And if that were so 
 
 "You trade me for her?" Buzzard's voice repeated, 
 for Flynn, quick to sense the unusual in the other's 
 manner, was beginning to fancy that he could see 
 the gleam of a way through his own immediate 
 problem. 
 
 All madmen, Buzzard knew, have wide chinks in 
 their armor, and fortune had played into his hands 
 most shrewdly in showing him the weakness of this 
 lunatic behind him. He could see now that his onlv
 
 104 RANGY PETE 
 
 hope was to encourage the capture of the female 
 rider; then, after he had been set free, and while 
 this elongated strip of humanity was devoting his 
 attention to his new captive, he, Buzzard, would 
 make a display of that talent which had won him 
 his name. He would poach upon the other, remove 
 a dangerous lunatic, and at the same time win the 
 gratitude of Blue Eyes. The farther Buzzard 
 tramped, the more he became enthused for carrying 
 out his portion of the program. Luck, which 
 but a short time ago appeared to have deserted him, 
 was, in reality, with him all the time. 
 
 Rangy Pete suddenly laughed aloud. 
 
 "Shore I'll trade you for Blue Eyes," he pro- 
 claimed; and he wondered at the chuckle way down 
 in the throat of Buzzard Flynn. 
 
 That, Rangy fancied on the spur of the moment, 
 would be his course. If this one chance should win 
 out and Jumbo Irish were still in the Pelican draw, 
 then he would trade Buzzard Flynn for Blue Eyes. 
 The idea was such an engrossing one that he scarcely 
 noticed the miles slipping behind him; he was only 
 dimly conscious that they had made a hair-pin turn 
 and were now traveling down the Pelican draw 
 towards Triple Butte. Somewhere along this 
 boulder-strewn course which twisted its way out to 
 the plains would be Blue Eyes and Jumbo Irish; 
 or would it be the main body of the Dervishers? 
 
 The eager strides of the Buzzard seemed a remote
 
 RANGY PETE 105 
 
 hint that the latter might be the case; but that, he 
 believed, would be hardly possible. The Dervishers, 
 thorn though they were in the flesh of the plains, 
 would scarcely have the daring to reform at a 
 point so near Triple Butte, unless, by chance, their 
 work with that sun-slumbering center had not been 
 finished and they were planning another sally to 
 complete it. 
 
 From that point forward Rangy went more 
 cautiously. He checked the pace of the Buzzard 
 and divided his contemplation of the future with a 
 sharp outlook in all directions. 
 
 Yes, in some way or other he must trade Buzzard 
 Flynn for Blue Eyes. 
 
 Then a sort of mental panic gripped him. 
 
 For the impossibility of making an open trade 
 with Jumbo Irish and still retaining any secrecy for 
 his motives whatever the future might decide 
 them to be occurred to him abruptly as an almost 
 insuperable obstacle. Jumbo, plainsman that he 
 was, ready-tongued, ready-muscled and keen-witted, 
 might make the exchange for a consideration; but 
 after that, what then? His tongue could be stilled, 
 perhaps. But only if Rangy rode back to Triple 
 Butte with the woman as his captive. 
 
 And was that any part of the purpose which had 
 brought him here? 
 
 That point was still undetermined when Rangy 
 noticed that the Buzzard's stride was slackening.
 
 106 RANGY PETE 
 
 "She can't be more than a quarter of a mile away," 
 the Buzzard confided. "I'm giving you the straight 
 stuff, Mister, and if Blue Eyes doesn't happen to 
 be there, don't you go getting excited. If she ain't 
 there, you make allowance for a woman not doing 
 what you expect of her. You come back and take 
 the ropes off me, and we'll hunt her together." 
 
 Rangy Pete made a guttural noise which may 
 have been compliance or refusal; he completed cer- 
 tain rope work which left Buzzard Flynn anchored 
 to a huge boulder; then he began to contemplate 
 the darkened draw before him. 
 
 The mam body of the Dervishers, or Jumbo Irish, 
 or a vacant camp which would it be? Rangy 
 returned, inserted a knotted kerchief between 
 Buzzard's lips, and whispered his instructions. 
 
 "Don't you go talking to the stars while I'm 
 gone," he admonished. "If I hear anything like 
 that, it's apt to make my head go wrong again, 
 and I might forget I'm a deputy." 
 
 As he slipped away into the darkness, he noticed 
 that the Buzzard was shivering slightly; but 
 that was not the problem which concerned him 
 now. 
 
 A quarter of a mile down the draw, Flynn had 
 said. So the next few minutes might decide if this 
 were a trap, or if Jumbo Irish had already started 
 for Triple Butte with his captive. 
 
 Foot by foot he felt his way through the blackness.
 
 RANGY PETE 107 
 
 with every sense strained to read even the faintest 
 of tokens. 
 
 Presently, at his left, the light stamping of feet! 
 That would be horses, restless, feeling his presence. 
 And their number would be an important thing. 
 
 Rangy Pete removed his boots and placed them 
 behind a boulder. Then once more he crept forward, 
 on hands and knees. Shortly, before him in the 
 darkness, there loomed the outlines of the animals. 
 
 A wave of gratitude swept over him. For there 
 were but the two horses, and the story which that 
 told him was slightly intoxicating hi its significance. 
 Two horses meant Jumbo Irish and Blue Eyes. 
 
 With that surety before him Rangy Pete sat 
 flat upon the rock to ponder the future. 
 
 Black night was upon him, night which conceals 
 the movements of man. It was that consciousness 
 of night which in the end brought the rift of an idea 
 into Rangy 's brain to shatter the outer shackles of 
 his problem. Two people in the draw Jumbo and 
 Blue Eyes! And Jumbo Irish, whatever else he 
 might be, maintained the scrupulous instincts of a 
 gentleman. That would mean that Jumbo, whether 
 awake or asleep, would be rigidly observing the 
 codes of mankind, and would, therefore, be occupy- 
 ing a position at some little distance from his captive. 
 
 Rangy Pete chuckled silently. 
 
 The chance was there. The way would be open 
 to him to take the female bandit under his own
 
 108 RANGY PETE 
 
 particular care, provided, of course, he could feel 
 his way about this draw with the caution of an 
 animal. 
 
 If only Jumbo were sound asleep ! But if not - 
 Rangy shrugged his shoulders through the night; 
 then silently he began to feel his way down the draw. 
 
 As he worked his way along, foot by foot, Rangy 's 
 ears were strained to catch even the faintest sound 
 of life; but the only whisperings which reached him 
 were the vague murmurings of the night. 
 
 There, before him, a dim and huddled form 
 crouching against the growth of rock! 
 
 For a full minute Rangy watched that form, until 
 at length it flopped an arm restlessly aside. Fortune 
 surely was playing into his hands, for that flopping 
 arm could mean nothing but sleep. 
 
 Jumbo asleep, through the night watch! So the 
 rest should be much simpler now. 
 
 This time he crept forward more cautiously than 
 before; and he began a slow and methodical search 
 of the deeper shadows at some distance from that 
 huddled form under the rock. 
 
 A quarter of an hour passed in this manner, until 
 at length Rangy 's outstretched fingers came into 
 contact with something soft and yielding which 
 had nothing to do with the bare rock under his knees. 
 
 "A blanket," he muttered. "That shore means 
 that somebody is bedded down soft and nice. I'm 
 guessing "
 
 RANGY PETE 109 
 
 "Go ahead and guess," the answer came back in 
 a cold whisper, "but don't get too near. I may be 
 tied, but I can kick your eyes out just the same.'* 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty!" Rangy exclaimed, in a thick 
 whisper. "It is shore little Blue Eyes. I've been 
 looking and looking for you, and here you are all 
 tied up like a fatted calf 
 
 Rang}' Pete paused, as he became aware of a 
 slight gasp from the other. After that there was a 
 motionless silence. Through that silence Rangy 
 appreciated that the situation was, alter all, a 
 difficult one. He had found it easy to talk to Blue 
 Eyes while she stood over him with a derringer and 
 while his hands were in the air; but now, with the 
 situation reversed and with darkness about them, 
 it was altogether different. 
 
 " Who are you? " This time the voice was obviously 
 feminine, and there was a marked relief back of 
 the words. "I thought you were that person who 
 roped me last night." 
 
 "No, Miss, I ain't Jumbo Irish, but he ain't 
 more'n fifty yards away, so we gotta be most awful 
 quiet." Rangy found the words coming more freely. 
 "You don't know me because it's dark, but you and 
 me are old friends. We met up this afternoon. 
 Don't you remember? You kinda amused me by 
 letting me look into the barrel of yore gun." 
 
 "You're that long, skinny thing that was standing 
 up against Ike Collander's store?" the voice asked.
 
 110 RANGY PETE 
 
 "You talk about as funny as you look, and that's 
 the reason I couldn't forget you. Besides, you're 
 the only one I held a gun on, for Collander doesn't 
 count. But what are you doing here? One of the 
 posse, I suppose? And you want to get the credit 
 for capturing a woman. You aren't satisfied to let 
 that other person out there have the credit - 
 
 "Sh h! Miss, you're like them all. You talk 
 too much. But can you walk?" 
 
 "Do you suppose I'd be here if I could have 
 walked away? No, that posse person who's sleeping 
 out there like a hog, roped me up and down and 
 across and then tied me to a rock. I haven't slept 
 a wink." 
 
 "We'll shore correct his impoliteness," Rangy 
 returned. "If I take them ropes off will you come 
 with me, Miss?" 
 
 " Where do you want me to go? " the girl demanded, 
 instantly on the defensive. 
 
 "I got a joke I want to tell you about, but I don't 
 want you to laugh right here and wake up Jumbo. 
 The joke ain't more'n hah* a mile up the draw, and 
 if it don't make you laugh, Miss, you can cuss me 
 for five minutes and I won't say a word back." 
 
 " Get busy. I'll go. Your company can't be much 
 worse than the company of that person you call 
 Jumbo." 
 
 "You shore won't be repenting that statement," 
 Rangy encouraged as he immediately applied himself
 
 RANGY PETE 111 
 
 to the task of removing the ropes which Jumbo Irish 
 had applied so conscientiously in the interests of the 
 law. 
 
 "It mayn't look purty, but if yer takin' a tip from 
 this boy, you'll mooch along on yore hands and 
 knees, same's I do," Rangy suggested hi a whisper, 
 when the last of the ropes fell away. 
 
 Rangy Pete promptly gathered up Jumbo's supply 
 of lariats, and he immediately began to crawl away 
 from the scene of the improvised jail. He crawled 
 for two hundred yards before he glanced back over 
 his shoulder, but when he did look he was not at all 
 surprised to find that the girl was only a few feet 
 behind him. Rangy continued in this manner for 
 another hundred yards until they were past the 
 picketed horses, and when they rounded a boulder 
 large enough to hide them from all view he rose to 
 his feet, donned the discarded shoes and waited for 
 the girl. 
 
 "Got a match?" the girl demanded the moment 
 she arrived at Rangy Pete's side. "That person 
 down there couldn't possibly see us now." 
 
 "Shore," Rangy returned. "Want the makin's 
 too?" 
 
 "Idiot," the girl returned, with as much vigor as 
 a whisper would permit. "Sit down behind that 
 rock and give me a match." 
 
 Rangy Pete obeyed, quite forgetful that the 
 other was in reality the captive. The girl promptly
 
 112 RANGY PETE 
 
 struck the match, cupped it with her hands until it 
 blazed freely, then she held it close to Rangy 's face, 
 and as she held it there she leaned forward and 
 peered intently into the man's features. Rangy Pete 
 found himself looking back into a pair of intensely 
 blue eyes. They were wide and eager now, totally 
 unconscious of his scrutiny, and they were evidently 
 making a hasty but adequate estimate of Rangy Pete. 
 Beyond the eyes Rangy saw but little, though just 
 before the match flared out and plunged them back 
 into darkness he was conscious that the shapely 
 lines of the chin which had first drawn his attention 
 back in Triple Butte were extended to the rest of 
 her somewhat oval countenance. The riding hat, 
 thrown back, revealed a rather tumbled mass of 
 hair whose shade he could not quite determine, but 
 which, he felt, was much darker than that wisp of 
 straw-colored braid which he had seen once before. 
 
 "You sure are a queer one," the girl commented, 
 immediately the darkness settled about them. 
 "You're out on a man-hunt. There can't be any 
 doubt of that, for you've got enough hardware on 
 you to sink a schooner. You look almost human, 
 too, but you haven't taken ordinary human precau- 
 tions. Don't you know there hasn't been a minute 
 since you untied those ropes when I couldn't have 
 let daylight into your interior?" 
 
 "That ain't noways possible, Miss, 'cause it's 
 most mighty dark here -
 
 RANGY PETE 113 
 
 "If you want it straighter," the voice interrupted, 
 "I mean I hid out a gun on that posse person when 
 he pretended to search me. I sure got a trick, 
 Mister whatever your name is 
 
 "Most folks call me Pete, Rangy Pete, an* I 
 would'n consider it noways of a liberty if you done 
 the same. But what's the trick, Miss, besides 
 lookin' at a person with them blue eyes?" 
 
 "If you was a Dervisher I'd most probably shoot 
 you up for that," the girl returned, quite unmoved, 
 "but the minute that posse person you've been 
 calling Jumbo Irish threw a rope over me from 
 behind a rock, I slipped my hat off so he knew I 
 wasn't any man. After that, he's so modest he 
 didn't search me for this gun I hid out on him. 
 So you can thank Jumbo back there for the fact 
 that I've got you covered now, Mr. Rangy Pete. 
 S'pose I was to say to you, 'Hands up'?" 
 
 "You said that to me once before today, an' it 
 sounded kinda nice. Anything you could say 
 would'n sound so bad." 
 
 Through the darkness Rangy Pete caught a 
 sound which was suspiciously like the choked-off 
 end of laughter, but when the girl spoke again there 
 was no suggestion of mildness in the tones. 
 
 "That stuff doesn't go, Rangy Pete. You ought 
 to know that with only one girl in a camp of twenty 
 men I have heard a whole lot nicer things than 
 that. It got so bad once that I had to put up a sign
 
 114 RANGY FETE 
 
 on a tree 'Cut out the mush.' Now you had 
 just better mosey along and remember that I will 
 be right behind you with the derringer trained on 
 your back." 
 
 ''That shore is a nice comfortable feeling," Rangy 
 returned. "I'm kinda queer thattaway, so't I don't 
 feel noways right unless they is a gun trained on inc. 
 But remember if you don't keep that derringer 
 sorta under control you won't never hear that joke 
 I'm gonna show you. You shoot me, Miss, an' 
 I won't tell you nothin' more about that li'l joke 
 of mine." 
 
 "Mooch along. I'm getting anxious. But how 
 far do you have to go before a joke's a joke?" 
 
 "About a hah* mile, Miss. You could'n noways 
 appreciate it 'less youse right on the spot." 
 
 This time Rangy led the way with less caution, 
 for he knew that even though Jumbo Irish did 
 come to life and discover that his captive had 
 vanished, there would be little which Jumbo could 
 do in the darkness to regain his earlier position of 
 mastery. 
 
 Shortly they arrived at the spot where Buzzard 
 FJynn had been trussed up and tied to a rock for 
 the sake of security. 
 
 Rangy stopped and asked the girl to remain 
 a short distance away while he advanced upon 
 Buzzard. The latter had evidently awaited Rangy 's 
 return with some anxiety, as he lost no time in
 
 RANGY PETE 115 
 
 opening the conversation once Rangy came within 
 sight. 
 
 "You find Blue Eyes all right just as I told you?" 
 he demanded in a voice which carried easily to the 
 girl waiting in the background. 
 
 "I gotta say, Buzzard, 'at yer the most honest 
 road agent I ever come against," Rangy replied. 
 "She's a campin' out just where you told me she'd 
 be, an' it wa'n't no trouble atoll to get her 
 
 Buzzard Flynn laughed with relief, and he 
 attempted to straighten himself from his cramped 
 position. 
 
 "Fine," he exclaimed. "Now that you've got her 
 you'd better slip these ribbons offen me 'cause a 
 bargain's a bargain." 
 
 "A bargain shore is a bargain," Rangy agreed. 
 "They ain't nobody can say Rangy Pete didn't 
 live up to his bargains. I told you, Buzzard, 'cause 
 you suggested it, 'at I'd trade you fer Blue Eyes, 
 so I ain't gonna disappoint nobody noways 
 
 The balance of the sentence was completely lost 
 owing to the vigorous manner in which the girl 
 precipitated herself between them. 
 
 "Gimme another match, Rangy Pete," she 
 demanded. "I think I recognize the voice of that 
 coyote, but I want to make sure." 
 
 "They ain't nothin' to make shore about, 'cause 
 it's Buzzard Flynn," Rangy informed. " 'At's the 
 joke I been tellin' you about."
 
 116 RANGY PETE 
 
 The girl snatched the match which Rangy 
 proffered, and she held the blazing tip so close to 
 Buzzard Flynn's features that he shrank back from 
 the flame. 
 
 "A joke?" she exclaimed in anger, as she swung 
 about to Rangy Pete. "I heard what this coyote 
 said. He brought you to me and now you're going 
 to let him go because you got me - 
 
 The blue-eyed person produced her derringer 
 with a speed which aroused Rangy's admiration. 
 She presented it towards the shrinking form of 
 the Buzzard, and then at the critical moment she 
 hesitated. That also pleased Rangy Pete. Blue Eyes, 
 it was becoming evident, was something of the 
 rip-ringer which he had promised himself she would 
 be, but even at that he approved greatly when 
 she shrank from shooting the captive in cold 
 blood. 
 
 "I'd like to do something to that person," she 
 spoke tensely, "but I can't shoot him like that. 
 Mr. Pete, take his ropes off. Give him a gun, and 
 we'll shoot it out." 
 
 "I ain't sayin' but what yer entitled to some of 
 yore feelin's," Rangy soothed, "but you ain't got 
 the joke yet. I can't let you go to punchin' no holes 
 into Buzzard Boy 'cause him and me has got a 
 bargain. He's to lead me to yore campin' place, 
 what he's done; an' I'm to trade him for you, which 
 I'm gonna do. Up you get, Buzzard Boy. A bargain's
 
 RANGY PETE 117 
 
 a bargain, jest as you been a sayin', an' I could'n 
 feel noways right if I didn't do as I said.'* 
 
 "Trade me, sure. You let me go." 
 
 "Which means 'at I gotta put you right where I 
 found Blue Eyes," Rangy spoke quite mildly. "You 
 shore can't have nothin' to kick about that. I 
 didn't find Blue Eyes a sittin* here on the rock, 
 'cause I found her a half mile down, an* that's where I 
 gotta put you, er I could'n never feel right no more." 
 
 "Sounds all right, but let's hurry about it," 
 Buzzard agreed, for it had become evident to him 
 that the strain of insanity in Rangy Pete was 
 creeping again to the surface. 
 
 Buzzard Flynn rose to his feet readily when 
 Rangy adjusted the ropes to make it possible, and 
 he was still fairly well pleased with events until the 
 girl suddenly broke out into laughter. 
 
 "I thought you'd get it if you'd jest look the 
 right way," Rangy addressed her, ''which is a hull 
 lot better'n punchin* this person's hide full of onnec- 
 essary holes, ain't it, Miss?" 
 
 "I wouldn't think of arguing the point," the 
 girl returned when she had gained control of her 
 laughter, "and, Mr. Pete, I want to thank you 
 right now for not letting me shoot him." 
 
 "Don't mention it, Miss. It ain't nothing at all. 
 I only done it because I didn't want to spoil yore 
 joke. Now what are you gonna do come with 
 me, or wait here till I get back?"
 
 118 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Who says I'm going to do either?" the girl 
 flashed back. 
 
 Rangy Pete toyed with the tip of his left ear. 
 
 "That's just what I been thinking about," he 
 admitted at length, "and I don't know that I can 
 answer the question, Miss, but if you ain't noways 
 in a hurry, it'd shore oblige me a whole lot if 
 you'd sort of hang around. I ain't got nothing to 
 say to you but I'd like to talk to you just the 
 same." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Pete. I'll stand without roping. 
 You'll find me here when you get back. Here's 
 something that might come in useful." 
 
 When Rangy turned, he found that the girl was 
 handing him a bandana of firm texture and that 
 she was making a motion as though to twist it 
 about Buzzard's face. 
 
 "You're shore thoughtful of Buzzard," Rangy 
 commented as he tied the handkerchief across 
 Flynn's face, somewhat to the captive's dismay. 
 "Stand still, you Buzzard Boy. There's some 
 poison fog down the draw a ways, and we don't 
 want you to go breathing none of that stuff, do we, 
 Miss Blue Eyes? Shore thing, Buzzard Boy. I 
 knew you'd be grateful. I won't be long, Miss 
 Blue Eyes, if you'll just wait. Come along, Buzzard. 
 March pronto." 
 
 Rangy Pete set off through the darkness, prodding 
 Buzzard Flynn in front of him, and reverting as he
 
 RANGY PETE 119 
 
 went to that slurring style of conversation which 
 was like a mask before his emotions. 
 
 "They's a secret I gotta tell you, Buzzard," 
 Rangy informed. "I'm gonna put you right where 
 I found Blue Eyes, 'cause I could'n never look you 
 in the face agin if I didn't do jest as I promised I 
 would. Rangy Pete don't say much, but what he 
 says you can take as yore hope of Kingdom Come. 
 When I found li'l Blue Eyes, she was all cuddled 
 up nice and snug in a blanket, an' Buzzard Boy '11 
 shore like that blanket, 'cause he ain't got none of 
 his own. They's a lot of nice ropes all tied about 
 her with the purtiest li'l knots you ever set eyes on. 
 An' they's a great big crool man a sleepin' like a 
 hawg about a few steps away. He's an awful crool 
 man, Buzzard, an' if I's you I'd hate most horrible 
 to wake him up. He's crool after dark, 'cause he 
 once killed a man at night an' that give him queer 
 ideas in the head. He ain't like me atoll wha's 
 matter, Buzzard Boy? Cold? S'all right, I'll 'skuse 
 you for not talkin', but as I's sayin', this here person 
 can't bear to be wakened none at night. He allus 
 shoots when he's wakened at night, 'cause he's 
 got the queer idea 'at it's the ghost comin' back. 
 I told you he's queer in the head, but he shoots 
 first at night an' looks afterwards. If you don't 
 believe me, Buzzard, I know of a nice fine rock to 
 sit behind while you tries it out. An' I shore would 
 like {;? know if Jumbo can shoot straight when he
 
 120 RANGY PETE 
 
 gets tliattaway. If you want to try it out, Buzzard, 
 you jest make a wee li'l bit of noise when I'm a 
 beddin' you down where I found Blue Eyes. But 
 if you want to wait and see him in the mornin' 
 when he won't have no queer ideas, you jest creeps 
 along like a coyote all right, Buzzard, if you 
 ain't got nothin' more to say we'll start to creepin', 
 'cause the great big crool man ain't far away now." 
 
 Rangy Pete led the way, creeping on hands and 
 knees as he had done twice before, and he found 
 that Buzzard Flynn was remarkably docile and 
 silent belu'nd him. The Buzzard's experiences during 
 the past few hours with this obviously irrational 
 person had been too varied to give him any strong 
 desire to prolong their acquaintance, so Buzzard 
 was no less silent than Rangy himself as they stole 
 towards the improvised jail, and as Rangy rolled 
 the other in the blanket which but a short time ago 
 had sheltered the girl. 
 
 " That noise you hear is the crool man telling the 
 \iorld that he's asleep," Rangy whispered his 
 parting message. 
 
 With that he stole away in the darkness. As he 
 crawled along he listened carefully for any adver- 
 tising of revolt on the part of Buzzard Flynn; but 
 judging from the vast silence about him, it seemed 
 that the Buzzard had been subdued. 
 
 Then abruptly, through the stillness of the night, 
 from up the Pelican draw there came a dull clatter-
 
 RANGY PETE 121 
 
 ing sound. Rangy listened intently; then shortly 
 he gave an exclamation of dismay. 
 
 "Hoof beats!" he proclaimed. "Blue Eyes has 
 gone!" 
 
 For a moment longer he listened until the faint 
 clattering died away, and when he moved forward 
 in the direction of his own cay use it was totally 
 without animation. 
 
 The girl, he could be positive now, had made 
 good her opening to escape. 
 
 That was a perfectly obvious thing for her to do; 
 but his consciousness of her act brought a vast, 
 inexplicable loneliness upon him.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE one consoling feature of the girl's flight was 
 the thought that his attitude towards her had been 
 settled. The way was clear for him to turn aside 
 from his undefined purpose and to return to Triple 
 Butte. 
 
 Yet almost instantly that thought was swept 
 aside and Rangy found himself hurrying forward 
 with the warmth of conviction upon him that he 
 must overtake the bandit before she had ridden too 
 far. He was hastening so conscientiously that he 
 almost collided with a figure standing near the 
 burnt-yellow cayuse. That occasioned an astonished 
 exclamation. 
 
 "I thought you'd gone," he burst out. "Heard 
 the horse 
 
 "Buzzard's mount tried to run away," the blue- 
 eyed one explained calmly, "but I caught it and 
 brought it back. Now, what kind of a person are 
 you, Mr. Rangy Pete?" 
 
 Rangy 's left hand put in a few moments' work 
 with the tip of his left ear, and while that was in 
 process he shuffled his feet backward and forward. 
 
 "I am just a long-shanked puncher who never has 
 
 122
 
 RANGY PETE 123 
 
 anything to say for himself," he began a tentative 
 explanation which he found cut short by a gesture. 
 
 "I mean, are you any good in a fight?" the girl 
 elaborated her demands. 
 
 "Not a bit," Rangy replied, to conceal the 
 inadequacy of his thoughts; for he felt that he 
 needed to study this person who should be, but 
 who wasn't, showing to him the slightest deference 
 as captor. 
 
 It was dark, with only the light of the stars to 
 dissolve the gloom, and the girl was standing there 
 calmly, looking somewhere out into the bleakness 
 of the night beyond him. The face, he could see 
 through the smudge of star shine, was manifestly 
 girlish; it was oval and free of any shrewish contours; 
 the general lines told that. But as for the details 
 of her features, he would have to wait for the light 
 of day to tell him that. 
 
 Finally the girl came out of her mood of abstrac- 
 tion and looked at Rangy Pete curiously. 
 
 "Which way are we going?" she demanded. 
 "Are you taking me back to Triple Butte?" 
 
 "Triple Butte shore would be a whole lot deco- 
 rated by your presence," Rangy returned reflectively, 
 as he busied himself with his saddle, "but if you 
 don't happen to be riding that way, it don't matter. 
 Me, I'm riding up this draw and back another. 
 I aim to hit Triple Butte some time in the future." 
 
 "Then I will ride with you." The girl's decision
 
 124 RANGY PETE 
 
 appeared to be an abrupt one. "Lead the way, 
 Mr. Pete." 
 
 Rangy did lead the way in a strange frame of 
 mind. By the time they reached the juncture with 
 the Lone Shadow draw the early daylight was 
 filtering its way over the tops of the buttes and 
 Rangy decided that it was time for him to determine 
 whether the morning light were as complimentary 
 to the girl as the darkness had been. 
 
 Yet when he turned about he experienced a 
 distinct sense of disappointment, for during the 
 night ride she had readjusted the mask about her 
 face. 
 
 "Them shore is fine things to keep the sunburn 
 off," he commented, "but you'd oblige me a whole 
 lot, Miss, by taking down the scenery." 
 
 "Going to make me?" the girl asked lightly. 
 
 "Hadn't thought of it," Rangy admitted, "but 
 just the same there ain't any piece of cloth ever 
 made could take the place of them cheeks of yours." 
 
 "How do you know?" the bandit insisted. 
 
 Rangy toyed again with his left ear. 
 
 "I don't know for sure," he allowed, "but I'm 
 hinting most awful hard to find out. Besides, 
 you've got a name about you somewhere." 
 
 The certain consciousness that he was undergoing 
 a rigid scrutiny caused Rangy to pause again. The 
 attitude of this Dervisher, he told himself through 
 that pause, was not what it should be, for there was
 
 RANGY PETE 125 
 
 not the faintest hint in the girl's manner that Rangy 
 was master of the situation. It was even stronger 
 than that. It seemed almost as though the female 
 bandit were intent upon some personal problem of 
 which Rangy Pete was only the fringe. 
 
 "I'll go with you a bit farther," she declared 
 irrelevantly, at length. "Lead on, Macduff." 
 
 "You got me wrong, Miss. I've been explaining 
 that my name ain't Macduff nor Mac nothing. 
 But do you mean that I should head for the buttes 
 or the Double K?" 
 
 "Any place you like, provided we get breakfast. 
 I'm starving." 
 
 "I got enough grub to cure that feeling," Rangy 
 informed, with a complete return of confidence, "so 
 we'll just be sloping it down the draw to a place 
 where there's a nice spring; and now that we've 
 got started nice and friendly like, ain't you gonna 
 take off that eye blanket and let me see just how 
 homely you are?" 
 
 Rangy waited for a few yards of travel, but there 
 was no response. 
 
 "I've seen a few women folk in my time," he 
 resumed patiently. "Some of them has been homely, 
 and some has been just fairish to look at. Kinda 
 wouldn't hurt yore eyes much, Miss, that is, if the 
 sun wasn't too bright and they wasn't too close. 
 I'm saying, I've seen a few homely ones, but I ain't 
 ever before run up against one what was so homely
 
 126 RANGY PETE 
 
 she had to wear an eye blanket in the daytime and 
 could only take it off at night. You'll excuse me, 
 Miss, for saying that they couldn't grow them that 
 homely down at Triple Butte where I come from, 
 though they've been trying for a long time. Now 
 there's Shifty Lizz down in Tony Burke's saloon 
 who don't look noways human unless a person's 
 had about six or seven red-eyes, and yet she don't 
 wear no eye blanket 
 
 "Rangy Pete, I'm not to be joshed," the girl 
 interrupted. "The wearing of this eye blanket, as 
 you call it, is a serious business. It isn't a matter 
 for you to take lightly, Mr. Pete, so if you can 
 control your naturally silent disposition until we 
 have had a taste of breakfast, there is just a chance 
 that I may take this mask off and tell you my name." 
 
 Rangy showed his approval by urging the yellow 
 cayuse into quicker action. He led the way to the 
 spring as rapidly as the cayuse could take the trail, 
 and he was not in the least alarmed when the blue- 
 eyed rider dropped behind. 
 
 Some few minutes later the girl arrived at the 
 scene of his culinary efforts, calmly seated herself 
 upon a rock and waited for him to serve her. The 
 casual air with which she took up her place betokened 
 that she was accustomed to receiving the ministra- 
 tions of others. The ministrations of Buzzard 
 Flynn perhaps? The thought of that caused Rangy 
 to poke the fire savagely; but when he turned
 
 RANGY PETE 127 
 
 towards her he managed to assume a tolerant grin. 
 
 But the frugal meal was not as productive as 
 Rangy had hoped it would be. 
 
 "The mask stays on," she announced coolly at 
 the close, "but I will meet you half way. Since you 
 insist upon calling me something, you may as well 
 say Miss Dick as anything else " 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty!" Rangy 's astonished voice 
 broke in "but excuse me, Miss." 
 
 " I was going to add that I will take off my mask 
 upon one condition only," Miss Dick resumed, 
 totally ignoring the interruption. "I find that I will 
 need some help in a little undertaking." 
 
 Rangy nodded encouragingly. 
 
 "You couldn't have come to a better party," 
 he admitted modestly, "not if you had looked all 
 over the State. But what's the condition?" 
 
 "I will take off my mask when you have done 
 something which I am going to ask you to do," 
 she decreed, as her eyes studied Rangy's features 
 shrewdly. 
 
 Rangy merely nodded for her to proceed. 
 
 "I want you to go back to Triple Butte with me 
 and help me to get some evaporated apples - 
 
 " My Gawd ! " Rangy exclaimed fervently. " You'll 
 have to excuse me this time, Miss Dick, but them 
 Vaporated apples are laying their lasso over my 
 angora. You got the Vaporated apple habit, too?" 
 
 "What do you mean by the evaporated apple
 
 128 RANGY PETE 
 
 habit?" Miss Dick demanded. "This is no joke." 
 
 "I ain't noways likely to call it a joke," Rangy 
 hastened to assure. "If it hadn't been for them 
 apples, Merrill wouldn't have started after you 
 road agents yesterday. He thought it was a heap of 
 fun for Triple Butte to be held up until he heard 
 about these apples being stole - 
 
 Miss Dick interrupted with a quick nod of her 
 head. 
 
 "If you look at it that way," she decided, "I am 
 afraid I have the evaporated apple habit the same 
 as Dan Merrill. Now, Mr. Pete, when do you 
 think would be the best time to get that other box?" 
 
 Rangy began to toy absently with the tip of his 
 left ear and when he looked at the girl it was with a 
 certain wavering of doubt. 
 
 "The other box?" he repeated vaguely. "I don't 
 understand how you come to sow them apples all 
 over the trail yesterday and yet be hankering to 
 get back to Triple Butte for more. That box didn't 
 have a hole in it, did it?" 
 
 It seemed that the eyes behind the mask grew a 
 trifle more friendly. 
 
 "It isn't that," Miss Dick explained carefully, 
 "but those apples we got yesterday were not quite 
 the right thing. When you have the evaporated 
 apple habit, Mr. Pete, it doesn't take long to tell 
 the difference. We got the wrong box." 
 
 "And you don't mean to say you're going back
 
 RANGY PETE 129 
 
 for the right one? " Rangy demanded, quite caught 
 off his guard. 
 
 Miss Dick nodded her assurance. 
 
 "Exactly what I am going to do," she pronounced 
 confidently. "Why else do you think I stayed over 
 there in the Pelican draw where any stray puncher 
 might run across me? Perhaps I had better go 
 alone, after all." 
 
 Rangy Pete hastened to lay his services at the 
 lady's feet. 
 
 "Go alone?" he hurried to decry her intent. 
 "Sakes alive, woman, you might just as well stand 
 in front of a stampede. I know that little old joint 
 of Triple Butte, and it'll be swarming like a beehive. 
 No you don't, Miss, step into that hive alone. 
 Besides, I know right where the other box is." 
 
 It almost appeared that Miss Dick gave a sigh 
 of relief, though for a time she devoted her attention 
 exclusively to Rangy 's culinary efforts. 
 
 "So there is another box?" she reflected absently. 
 "How do you know that, Mr. Pete?" 
 
 Still Rangy Pete's guard was so wide open that 
 he lost no time in reciting the details of his rather 
 disastrous sign-painting, and when these facts had 
 been faithfully retold, he paused long enough to 
 bask for a moment in the softened glow which 
 seemed to shine from the girl's eyes. 
 
 "There's something I don't understand," he 
 conceded, "but I wouldn't be surprised to find the
 
 130 RANGY PETE 
 
 whole of Triple Butte and the half of Merrill's 
 punchers standing guard over them apples. That 
 means taking them out from under the noses of 
 about fifty-sixty men not counting the Double K 
 or the Triangle O boys who may come shoving in. 
 It's funny, Miss, how the folks back in Triple Butte 
 ain't nohow set on stealing. They've got what you 
 might call primitive prejudices about it, and it 
 ain't so long ago that a fellow out there got his neck 
 all tangled up with a lariat on account of stealing. 
 All he took was about twenty-thirty horses, which 
 ain't nothing like stealing a box of Dan Merrill's 
 'vaporated apples - 
 
 "Afraid?" the girl's voice was cold and distant. 
 "Very well, I am sure I can manage it alone. All 
 I ask is that you don't warn the people that I am 
 coming." 
 
 The situation, from the standpoint of Rangy Pete, 
 was an unprecedented one. It occasioned him a 
 cautious side glance at the girl's masked face in the 
 hope of determining the extent of her sincerity, but 
 all he could see definitely was the firm set of the 
 chin and the cold glow of the blue eyes shining from 
 beyond that annoying fold of cloth. From that 
 he decided there was not the slightest suggestion of 
 frivolity in the girl's face. 
 
 "I don't blame you for not wanting to eat Ike 
 Collander's chopped pig-skin," he affirmed his faith 
 at length. "Ike ought to be strung up for keeping
 
 RANGY PETE 131 
 
 that kind of stuff around, so, Miss Dick, if you want 
 to get some of the sure-enough 'vaporated apples 
 that Dan Merrill brings in, I'm with you." 
 
 To emphasize the point, Rangy extended a 
 calloused hand across the rock which took the 
 place of a table between them. The girl responded 
 with a quick, firm grip of the fingers; and with the 
 touch of the hand within his he suddenly felt the 
 hot coursing of blood running riot within him, yet 
 when he dropped her hand Miss Dick appeared 
 totally unconscious of that swift flash of emotion 
 within him. 
 
 "We will wait until dark," she decreed. "Now 
 if you will keep watch I will get a little sleep. You 
 can take your turn this afternoon." 
 
 Rangy shook his head reflectively as the girl 
 made her way into the shadow land of the buttes, 
 and in time he started to grumble to himself. 
 
 "All settled, just like that," he muttered. "Who's 
 running this show, anyway? Here I come chasing 
 bandits and before I know it the bandit's got me 
 picked out for emergency work. Miss Dick, you 
 mayn't know it, but you got such convincing ways 
 that if you'd go to the gospel flail's tent in Triple 
 Butte and lend him a hand, you'd have them hitting 
 the sawdust trail so fast they'd wear out the track."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 As the events of the afternoon proclaimed, it was 
 really Miss Dick who held the controlling hand. 
 Around noonday, while the rays of the sun were 
 still blistering their way over the tops of the buttes, 
 the girl reappeared from her retreat in the shadow 
 land and gave him rather definite instructions about 
 taking a nap and making himself fit for the work 
 of the night. 
 
 He paused only long enough to attempt to impros 
 upon Miss Dick the folly of the enterprise. Triple 
 Butte, he had learned by experience and observa- 
 tion, could sleep as soundly as any other inhabited 
 portion of the world, but, once awakened, it could be 
 decidedly peevish towards those who had broken 
 in upon its vacuum of thought and effort. 
 
 And Dan Merrill of the Snaky Y, besides being 
 peevish, could be vindictive. 
 
 "Two or three nights from now would be a whole 
 lot better," Rangy tried to temper the girl's imme- 
 diate enthusiasm for evaporated apples; but his 
 efforts were only met by a decided shake of the head. 
 
 Miss Dick, it was obvious, had not altered her 
 mind in the least about her hurried return to that 
 center of awakened somnolence, and no amount of 
 
 132
 
 RANGY PETE 133 
 
 talk about Triple Butte's lack of hospitality towards 
 any member of the Dervishers appeared to make 
 upon her the least impression. 
 
 Rangy contended the point with some vigor, and 
 when he finally stretched out in a sheltered spot at 
 the foot of the buttes he was somewhat astonished 
 to find that it was concern for the girl's safety which 
 had compelled his attitude. That was a matter 
 difficult to understand, but Rangy attempted to 
 put it from him with the explanation that Miss Dick 
 was really his prisoner and that while she was in 
 his custody it was simply his duty to protect her 
 from all possible harm. That thought was so com- 
 forting that he had only a vague wonder if the girl 
 would this time take advantage of her opportunity 
 to escape. It was a flitting thought which came at 
 the last moment before he fell into slumber, and 
 which did not in the least disturb the peacefulness 
 of his dreams. Those dreams were rather about the 
 perversity of the prisoner, who persisted in dragging 
 him into an undertaking which might prove dan- 
 gerous to both of them, and who, it appeared through 
 his fancy, clung to him in spite of all his efforts to 
 cast her aside. 
 
 Rangy's dreams, strangely enough, had a lot to 
 do with the queerness of Miss Dick, so it seemed 
 quite natural that he should abruptly find himself 
 in the half-way land between slumber and wakeful- 
 ness and with the girl actually tugging at his
 
 134 RANGY PETE 
 
 shoulders. The first thought which came to him 
 was that she was using his sleep as a chance to rope 
 him; but to what end his laboring brain did not say. 
 
 Then almost instantly he knew that theory must 
 be a warped one, for Miss Dick, in addition to tug- 
 ging at his shoulders, was shaking him vigorously 
 and was whispering some keenly pitched words. 
 
 "For goodness' sake, Pete, hurry," she was 
 exclaiming; "they're not ten minutes away from us." 
 
 Rangy sat up suddenly and his functioning brain 
 swept out of its miasmic vapors into the immediate 
 present. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he demanded, as his 
 roving eye swept the full arc of the compass. " Who 
 are you talking about?" 
 
 "A party of men, twenty or thirty, or more. 
 They are riding our way. See that big ridge in the 
 draw back towards the Pass? They swept over 
 that not a minute ago - 
 
 "You sure?" Rangy insisted, though he sprang to 
 his feet even as he spoke. 
 
 For there could be but the one significance to the 
 presence of a party of men riding down upon them 
 from the direction of the butte lands. It would be 
 the riders of the plains returning from their pursuit 
 of the Dervishers and combing this draw in the 
 search for strays. As for himself it did not matter. 
 But Miss Dick? She would be one of those strays 
 who would be welcomed by the feverish punchers
 
 RANGY PETE 135 
 
 from the Snaky Y and by the awakened battlers 
 of Triple Butte. 
 
 "We shore will hurry," he decided, as he noticed 
 the tightness about the girl's lips. "Throw the 
 things together while I catch that cayuse of mine." 
 
 The matter of saddling and mounting was but a 
 brief interval snatched from time, yet when Rangy 
 once more returned to Miss Dick he found that she 
 was ready to ride at his side. 
 
 With barely a comment Rangy Pete led the way 
 swiftly down the draw and when they came to the 
 first ridge which commanded a view of the uncharted 
 trail behind them, he paused long enough to study 
 the tangled course which they had just followed. 
 
 "You're right, Miss Dick," he agreed, "that shore 
 is a big party of riders back there, and what a 
 lubber I am!" 
 
 A sharp ejaculation of disgust accompanied this 
 outburst, for Rangy had become painfully aware of 
 the fact that this ridge, in addition to providing 
 them with an observation tower, was threatening 
 to prove their downfall. For now he knew that the 
 figures of himself and the girl must be clearly sil- 
 houetted against the skyline; and his consciousness 
 of that became an undoubted fact when that cluster 
 of riders in the far background were seen to swing 
 into closer contact and then pause as though 
 startled. 
 
 But almost instantly they spurred forward at a
 
 136 RANGY PETE 
 
 sharper pace, and when Rangy Pete saw that, he 
 looked at the girl uncertainly. 
 
 "They're after us, all right," Miss Dick pro- 
 nounced calmly. " Is there any speed in that yellow 
 cayuse of yours? Thank goodness, it will soon be 
 dark. If we can only hold them until dark - 
 
 "That's what we've got to do," Rangy decided 
 instantly. "This yellow boy isn't a world champion, 
 but he can stay with it all day, and that counts. 
 That bunch of riders can't be more than a mile 
 behind, and there isn't a single offshoot from this 
 draw between here and the plains which doesn't 
 lead into a blind corner. Mass Dick, it's a case of 
 race it out." 
 
 The girl nodded swiftly and through the slits 
 in her mask Rangy caught a glimpse of shining 
 eyes which seemed to have grown into hard points 
 of aurelian blue. They were firm and clear and 
 almost dazzling, and in that instant it even appeared 
 to Rangy Pete that there was a fever of excitement 
 in her veins which brought with it a thrill of glad- 
 ness. Because of that, he wondered if the girl were 
 really elated at the prospect of this mad dash for 
 freedom. 
 
 While he thought of that, they rode swiftly down 
 the draw, out towards the borderland of plains and 
 buttes, into that land of shadows which had given 
 this draw its name; and as they left the miles behind 
 them, catching from time to time a glimpse of the
 
 RANGY PETE 137 
 
 racing pursuers, Rangy became conscious of the 
 strangeness of the situation. 
 
 "Why didn't you slope it away alone when you 
 first saw them coming?" he asked at length. "You 
 know it isn't me they're after." 
 
 Again the girl looked at him with those curious, 
 dazzling lights in her eyes which spoke of the 
 grateful thrill of excitement. That made him wonder 
 still more at the problem of Miss Dick. Discretion 
 and common sense, he felt, should prompt him to 
 recognize that there are certain legal codes which 
 are as inevitable as life itself, and to admit to himself 
 that the law of the plains was a hundred times more 
 swift and sure than any code of the law which had 
 yet penetrated as far as Triple Butte. 
 
 Subconsciously, in the back of his brain, Rangy 
 knew the interpretation which those trouble-lusting 
 riders of the Snaky Y would put upon any associa- 
 tion with the Dervishers, particularly when goaded 
 on by the fire-breathing spirit of Dan Merrill, and 
 there were men among the crew of the Snaky Y, 
 chiefly Bill Sonnes and Merrill himself, who would 
 be keen to fix upon him any calumny which chance 
 provided. And here it was, ready made for their 
 hands. 
 
 Down the lower slopes of the butte land draw 
 they raced, and in the far distance they could catch 
 glimpses of the chaparral-strewn plain in the shadows 
 beyond. Behind them was that dashing cluster of
 
 138 RANGY PETE 
 
 horsemen, more strung out than when first they had 
 been sighted, but riding swiftly and furiously in the 
 pursuit. 
 
 "They're gaining," Rangy pronounced solemnly, 
 as they reached a crest in the trail which looked 
 down into a barren area of tumbled rock stretching 
 between them and the fringes of the plains. " They've 
 closed up an eighth of a mile on us. What's wrong 
 with that horse of yours, Miss Dick?" 
 
 "Stepped on a rolling stone," the girl explained 
 gravely, and Rangy was conscious that her eyes now 
 sought out his. When their glances met, he could 
 be quite certain that some of the sparkle had gone 
 and that silently she was putting before him the 
 problem of her escape. 
 
 "He'll be better in a few minutes," Miss Dick 
 declared hopefully; but as the minutes slipped away, 
 it became too evident that improvement in the 
 animal's condition was lacking. 
 
 That rolling stone had stripped from them the 
 thin margin of advantage which had been theirs. 
 
 For a time, as he rode, Rangy glanced anxiously 
 over his shoulder, then he studied the far spaces 
 towards which they were racing, as though seeking 
 to measure the elements of fact and chance. Quite 
 plainly, Miss Dick was now relying upon him; and 
 just as plainly, another hour's riding at their present 
 rate would see the foremost rider of that party of 
 punchers within fair gunshot of them unless, of
 
 RANGY PETE 139 
 
 course, Miss Dick's mount improved; but if it should 
 suddenly become worse ? 
 
 Rangy Pete shook his head anxiously. 
 
 The shadows of night were beginning to settle 
 about them; on the plains they would be deeper still; 
 and off there, before them, rather better than an 
 hour's ride away, was Triple Butte. 
 
 Yet what was to be gained by riding into Triple 
 Butte? No, it was to be a iratter of wits now. 
 
 "Listen, Miss Dick," Rangy spoke quickly, as he 
 drew his horse closer to the girl. "This isn't a very 
 purty box that we've stepped into. With that 
 animal of yours holding down our speed, that herd 
 of punchers is about due to be pumping bullets at 
 us about a few minutes before it gets so dark they 
 can't see to shoot. If it got dark, we'd sure give them 
 the slip in the chaparral around the mouth of the 
 draw, but it ain't thick enough to make a getaway 
 as long as they's any light in the air. Now I've got 
 an idea, Miss Dick." 
 
 "Well?" the girl encouraged, with brightening eyes. 
 
 " The next time we drop out of sight of the punchers, 
 you just slip off your cayuse with all our grub and 
 hide out on them Snaky Y buckos. They won't be 
 looking for anybody, 'specially if they see the two 
 horses riding on ahead. They'd be pumping after 
 me and the two horses so fast that you wouldn't have 
 any trouble at all. This cayuse, without anybody on 
 its back, might be able to keep up to my yellow boy,
 
 140 RANGY PETE 
 
 and if he could, me and yellow boy would shore lose 
 them Snaky Y punchers in the chaparral so fast 
 they'd wonder if we'd ever been alive. That sounds 
 easy, Miss Dick. Then, soon's I'd lost this crew 
 that's tagging after us, I'd come right back to you." 
 
 Quite obviously, Miss Dick was considering the 
 proposition with extreme care. She looked behind 
 her steadily, just as Rangy had done; she studied 
 the far shadows of the plains which lay before, and 
 she seemed to be looking anxiously into the higher 
 lights of the dulling sky. 
 
 Then she shook her head sharply. 
 
 "Too dangerous," she decided. "Their riders are 
 strung out so much that some of them would be 
 sure to see me. Besides, they'd have pretty poor 
 eyes if they didn't discover before long that one 
 horse didn't have a rider. After that, you'll admit, 
 they would be sharp enough to string a guard all 
 along this draw; and how long would it be before 
 you ever got back to me? Are you trying to starve 
 me to death, Mr. Rangy Pete?" 
 
 Deliberation of the point seemed to establish the 
 fact that Miss Dick was right. It was one chance 
 gone; and still those thirsting riders behind them 
 must be cutting down the lead with each passing 
 minute. 
 
 Miss Dick's cayuse was not improving, though 
 it appeared to be holding its own gamely. Rangy 
 believed it was because of the manner in which the
 
 RANGY PETE 141 
 
 girl leaned from time to time over its neck, patted 
 its glossy shoulders and whispered strange words 
 of affection into its listening ears. Through a space 
 of time, while he watched that seeming intimacy 
 between Miss Dick and her cayuse, Rangy forgot 
 some of the keenness of the problem, for that was 
 a rather delightful trait in the girl which he had not 
 hitherto suspected. 
 
 "No, we will have to race it out." Miss Dick 
 broke into his meditations. "I couldn't think of 
 letting this horse fall into their hands. We have 
 been friends too long for that. Mr. Pete, if you only 
 know of a good big cluster of chaparral not too far 
 away from here, and could plan to reach it just at 
 dark, I am sure we would have but little more 
 trouble dodging them. Searching chaparral at night 
 is no easy job, not even for punchers." 
 
 The suggestion, Rangy was compelled to admit, 
 had some merits, and in view of the impossibility of 
 outriding the Snaky Y punchers with one hampered 
 horse to hold them back, it appeared to be the only 
 feasible solution. Yet it had its demerits. 
 
 "If I was chasing Dervishers with a flock of thirty 
 men," Rangy decided aloud, "and they sloped it into 
 a piece of chaparral just at dark, do you know what 
 I'd do? I'd just throw my riders around that bit of a 
 hiding place, and I'd hold them there until morning. 
 Then it'd be, 'Out you come, Mr. Dervishers. We 
 got a nice little rope all ready for you.' We can step
 
 14* RANGY PETE 
 
 into the trap, Miss Dick, all right, but how are we 
 going to step out of it? " 
 
 "That is your job," the girl pronounced with 
 conviction; and back of the conviction there was a 
 definite message of faith which once more set ablaze 
 the riot of emotions in Rangy Pete's brain. 
 
 By the time that fever had cooled, they had swept 
 past the limits of the Lone Shadow draw, out upon 
 the first stretches of the plains, and because of that, 
 he knew there was but the one chance before them. 
 That was the suggestion of Miss Dick. 
 
 Then an abrupt thought assailed Rangy Pete. 
 
 For him, the way out could be si nple. If he 
 chose, he might ride into Triple Butte and proclaim 
 the girl his prisoner. But that left a feeling of nausea 
 which he did not attempt to understand. Instead, 
 he gave himself up to a study of that problem which 
 Miss Dick had so briefly put before him. 
 
 The girl was right. They must soon find shelter 
 in the chaparral, for a backward glance showed him 
 that the foremost riders were less than a half mile 
 behind them now. And as yet, on these hill stretches 
 of the plains, the chaparral was thin. There were 
 still too many high lights in the sky which peered 
 down and showed all too plainly the motions of 
 men and of their mounts. 
 
 Less than a hah* mile behind them now! Dull, 
 shadowy forms, racing out of the thickening shadows 
 of the plains.
 
 RANGY PETE 143 
 
 Directly before them was Triple Butte, a matter 
 of five miles or more away. They could never make 
 it now, no matter how keen might be the urge. 
 
 Miss Dick looked almost constantly over her 
 shoulder now! And on those times when she turned 
 to look into his eyes he could see an inquiring 
 wonder upon those portions of her face which could 
 be seen. 
 
 "There are more than thirty men behind us." 
 Miss Dick spoke suddenly, and for the first tune he 
 fancied he found a slightly strained note in her voice. 
 
 But Rangy was thinking so swiftly now that he 
 barely heeded her words. To the right of Triple 
 Butte was a cluster of chaparral a hundred or 
 more acres in extent, dense enough to suit their 
 purpose. If only they could reach it before the 
 maddened riders behind them came within reaching 
 distance of a bullet! 
 
 "Can you get just a little more speed out of that 
 cayuse?" he asked. "Just a little. We've got to 
 veer to the right." 
 
 In answer, the girl leaned forward over the 
 animal's neck; she patted it softly, and she whispered 
 some pleading words in its ears which sounded 
 almost like the melody of song. 
 
 With an effort the animal picked up a little 
 extra speed, so that Rangy looked at the girl in 
 wonder. 
 
 "Make him hold that," he declared, "and we
 
 144 RANGY PETE 
 
 will strike that bit of chaparral you see to the right 
 just about the time the punchers start to fire at us." 
 
 From that time on the course swerved to the 
 right until shortly the darkened smudge of chaparral, 
 which stood out blurred and indistinct through the 
 growing darkness, was directly in line between them 
 and Triple Butte. Behind them, so close now that 
 the maddened tramp of the galloping animals 
 sounded like the pounding of surf upon the sands, 
 came the troop of punchers. They were breaking 
 into tongue now, like the yelping of hounds. They 
 were dull splashes of vitality plunging through the 
 gloom. 
 
 For a moment Rangy watched them curiously, 
 measuring the distance between them, the distance 
 to the chaparral. 
 
 "We'll make it," he declared, with elevation; and 
 almost as he spoke there came the dull snap of a 
 barking revolver behind them. 
 
 "They seem to know it," Miss Dick replied 
 calmly. 
 
 Just a few hundred yards to that chaparral now! 
 Behind them the leaders in the chase were firing 
 more steadily, persistently, as though they recog- 
 nized the futility of immediate pursuit. 
 
 Only one danger now! And that the chance of a 
 stray bullet finding its mark. Accurate shooting 
 was out of the question. Speed would have made 
 that impossible, even had the cloaking of night not
 
 RANGY PETE 145 
 
 been about them, dulling and blurring their flying 
 figures and making the goal of those searching bullets 
 nothing but the whim of fate. 
 
 "Listen, please." Rangy began to speak swiftly. 
 "I have a plan. But we must work fast. We will 
 make the chaparral now and the first man is four 
 hundred yards behind. We plunge straight through 
 it, as fast as we can make it, as quiet as we can. 
 It isn't far. And then you will do exactly as I say?" 
 
 "Yes," the girl agreed quickly, but there was 
 nothing subdued in her tones. 
 
 Even in that moment of crisis it almost seemed 
 to Rangy Pete that she was entrusting herself to 
 his keeping merely through some strange fancy of 
 her own, to see if he had the wits to bring her through 
 this period of danger. 
 
 Abruptly the denser shadows of the chaparral 
 closed about them, while a chorus of bullets whined 
 their way through the night. 
 
 "Dismount and follow me," Rangy instructed; 
 and shortly they were feeling their way as swiftly 
 and as silently as possible through the protecting 
 growth. 
 
 Behind them, at the edge of the chaparral, was 
 the maddened clatter of confused voices as the fore- 
 most riders dashed up to the barrier of protection 
 and then paused uncertainly. For some time that 
 clamoring of voices continued, as rider after rider 
 swung up to the chaparral and added his confusion
 
 146 RANGY PETE 
 
 to the earlier sounds. Presently there came the 
 sound of horses plunging into the trees after them, 
 and that caused Rangy Pete to chuckle audibly. 
 
 "Shore enough, old boys, come right along," he 
 encouraged in a whisper which reached Miss Dick's 
 ears. "The more time you waste chasing up this 
 way, the longer it'll take you to get your wits 
 together long enough to know you should be loping 
 it around to the other side of this bush. Faster, 
 Miss Dick!" 
 
 As he felt his way through the chaparral, Rangy 
 was listening intently to those sounds which came 
 from the Snaky Y punchers, and he was seeking to 
 read the meaning of all the confused voices. 
 
 A hundred more yards now to the clear edge of 
 the barrier of tree growth, and beyond that ? 
 
 "They've started to ride around to this edge 
 now," Rangy decided abruptly, "but it is five 
 times as far around as it is through, and we're nearly 
 at the open. Steady, Miss Dick, not a sound now." 
 
 "Where are you going?" the girl demanded. 
 "This horse can't go much farther tonight." 
 
 "He won't have to if we get an even break in the 
 luck, and if you got your nerve with you," Rangy 
 proclaimed. "Now you're at the very edge and 
 those buckos haven't come into sight yet. Do you 
 know what's gonna happen, Miss? I've got an idea 
 that I'm gonna join in the chase and help burn 
 them Dervishers out "
 
 RANGY PETE 147 
 
 The girl laughed in sudden comprehension. 
 
 "Fine!" she exclaimed. "But how?" 
 
 "Listen. There isn't a second to lose." Rangy 
 spoke with swift intent. "You couldn't get away 
 yet not quite dark enough. I got to put them off 
 the track. You stay here. When you see the way 
 open, you back your horse out. Ride around Triple 
 Butte bunch of chaparral to the east, ten acres 
 of it. Meet me there on the far side of it get there 
 as soon as I can Good luck, little Blue Eyes." 
 
 Even as he spoke, Rangy Pete was backing the 
 burnt-yellow cayuse out from the sheltering fringe 
 of the chaparral into the smouldering gloom of the 
 early night. He backed the animal as swiftly as it 
 could travel in this unusual pose, and he kept its 
 head turned towards that curve of the chaparral- 
 bordered night from which the riders of the Snaky Y 
 must shortly loom. It could be a matter of but two 
 or three minutes at the most, he knew, before the 
 first of the riders would swing around that out- jutting 
 crop of chaparral some three hundred yards distant, 
 and from that point gain a clear view of himself. 
 
 While he backed the cayuse towards Triple Butte, 
 Rangy Pete chuckled to himself somewhat grimly. 
 
 "Boy, we shore got to use our head tonight," he 
 addressed the astonished animal, "but I'm thinking, 
 when they first catch sight of you, with your nose 
 turned towards them, they won't nowise think that 
 you've ever had anything to do with Dervishers.
 
 Ii8 RANGY PETE 
 
 They'll set you down as running in from Triple Butte 
 to help them." 
 
 There, by the night-dulled cluster of chaparral, 
 was the darting shadow of the foremost of the riders. 
 
 Rangy Pete shook the reins of the burnt-yellow 
 cayuse and dashed towards those advancing riders 
 with a great clatter of noise. 
 
 "You got them?" he demanded, as he slithered 
 the cayuse into a halt directly in their path. 
 
 "Got them nothing!" the voice of Bill Sonnes 
 returned testily. "Oh, it's you, Rangy! Did them 
 Dervishers ride out on this side?" 
 
 "They shore haven't, though I been expecting 
 them to do it. Now look alive, fellows. Throw the 
 posse all around this bunch of chaparral, and we got 
 them, snug in a trap. Ride on, Sonnes, and string 
 your men out. And for goodness' sake make it 
 fast, or the Dervishers will slip away on that far 
 corner." 
 
 Sonnes jerked at his reins impatiently, with a 
 degree of fire which told that the blood-lust was 
 burning hot within him. He was almost in the act 
 of dashing on when Rangy checked him with a 
 sharp word. 
 
 "You lost your head, Sonnes?" he demanded. 
 "Why don't you send a man to ride back the way 
 you come, and post guards around the other way 
 till you two parties mod?" 
 
 The man's reply was an impatient oath.
 
 RANGY PETE 149 
 
 "Here, Merker," he exclaimed, "Rangy's right. 
 You string back the way you come, pick up the 
 riders and scatter them along, one every few hundred 
 yards. Step fast, Merker. We got them Dervishers 
 in a trap, and if they ain't dangling by the neck 
 before morning you can call me a greaser." 
 
 This time Sonnes applied the spurs, and Rangy 
 had to raise his voice to check the man's speed. 
 
 "And Sonnes," he shouted, "the wind's blowing 
 across the chaparral from the other side. Set it 
 afire as soon as you get the posse all strung out 
 ready ' 
 
 "You're a live one!" Sonnes bellowed back over 
 his shoulder, as he and a party of riders raced on 
 into the growing darkness of the night. 
 
 Rangy Pete turned about to find Merker still at 
 his side, while another of the belated riders was 
 already racing towards them. 
 
 "It's easy, Merker," Rangy exclaimed, "but we 
 got to work fast. You slope it back as Sonnes said, 
 and post your riders. I'll stand guard from here to 
 that point of chaparral you see sticking out down 
 there a ways. You post your first man just past 
 that, and tell him to keep his eyes on the dark spots. 
 Them Dervishers have got to ride out this way 
 some time. Now make it fast, Merker!" 
 
 There was so much crispness in Rangy's tones, 
 and such an air of authority, that apparently the 
 man Merker did not have so much as a thought of
 
 150 RANGY PETE 
 
 hesitancy. He dashed away in the opposite direction 
 to that taken by Sonnes, picked up the second rider 
 on the way, and in a minute or more he disappeared 
 around the curve of shadow into the gloom of the night. 
 
 Rangy Pete heaved a sigh of relief. 
 
 With the Snaky Y punchers working so frantically 
 to throw a cordon about the cluster of chaparral 
 and accepting his proffered services so unquestion- 
 ingly, there was now but the one rider within sight 
 of him. That man was the first of the guards posted 
 by Sonnes, a young puncher stationed some three 
 hundred yards down the edge of the chaparral. 
 
 It was growing swiftly dark, though it was not 
 quite dark enough for Miss Dick to ride out of her 
 shelter and vanish into the blackness to the north 
 of Triple Butte. Another quarter of an hour and it 
 would be perfectly safe. She could step out of the 
 shadows into the cloak of night and be lost forever 
 to those eager punchers whose brains were fevered 
 now by the pursuit. 
 
 What a fire was running in their veins! As he 
 thought of that, Rangy Pete shuddered at the 
 prospect of Miss Dick falling into their hands. For 
 if such had been her fate if his wits had failed him 
 in that moment of crisis he could see quite clearly 
 that those slightly maniacal punchers might easily 
 have inflicted the final punishment of death before 
 they discovered that she was a woman. 
 
 Rangy shivered again; then he laughed softly.
 
 RANGY PETE 151 
 
 A few minutes more and Miss Dick's last danger 
 would be over. Already the figure of that guard at 
 his right had become so smothered by the cloakings 
 of night that Rangy could distinguish his form 
 only when he moved. A few minutes more and the 
 night would have blotted out even the movements 
 of either rider or mount! 
 
 And that was just as it should be. In Rangy 's 
 blood there was running the thrill of victory. This 
 last chapter of the chase had been timed to perfec- 
 tion; for just a few minutes after Miss Dick rode 
 out of her shelter into safety, the chaparral would 
 be set ablaze from the far side. And that blaze 
 would be a curious thing, for it would provide still 
 more protection for the retreat of Miss Dick. Miss 
 Dick, being beyond the range of the blaze, would 
 be in the shelter of shadows impenetrable to those 
 watching eyes. 
 
 Yes, it had worked out with astonishing success. 
 Five minutes more, and Miss Dick 
 
 A rider dashing down upon him from the left, 
 from beyond that point of chaparral! The slithering 
 of a rider stopping beside him! 
 
 Rangy Pete felt all the elation swept from him 
 and in its place there came the cold chill of augury. 
 For the man was Dan Merrill, head of the Snaky Y. 
 So it must be a case of wits again. 
 
 "Hello, Dan," Rangy greeted casually. "Got 
 them yet?"
 
 152 RANGY PETE 
 
 Merrill's reply was a bellowing sound. "You 
 wasn't in our posse," he declared. "What you 
 doing here?" 
 
 "Catching Dervishers same's the rest of you," 
 Rangy replied easily, though his right hand dropped 
 negligently towards his hip and rested there, as 
 though weary of effort. "If you wasn't so het up, 
 Merrill, I'd be calling your attention to the fact that 
 you ain't got no right to bellow at me. I'm not on 
 your string of riders and I go and come when I like. 
 I saw your fancy chase across the ranges from where 
 I happened to be, so I sloped it here as quick as I 
 knew how. Sonnes left me here on guard ; but don't 
 think I'm telling you this, Merrill, because I have 
 to tell you anything. I'm my own boss, understand 
 that. I take orders from myself and if the rest of 
 the world doesn't like it - 
 
 Rangy finished his sentence only by the outward 
 jerking of his left hand, and by a shrug of the 
 shoulders. The right hand, Merrill could not help 
 but observe, still rested annoyingly near a certain 
 bulge by the hip. And even Dan Merrill, big and 
 dark and quick tempered as he was, recognized 
 through the heat of his passions that Rangy 's hand, 
 when in that particular position, was not a thing 
 to be trifled with. 
 
 "Seems to me you got here mighty quick." 
 Merrill's voice contained its sneer, which Rangy 
 chose to overlook.
 
 RANGY PETE 153 
 
 "Shore, this little cayuse has got the speed. 
 Gonna buy him off me, Dan?" 
 
 Yet while he spoke with pleasant indifference, 
 Rangy Pete was inwardly fuming at the presence of 
 Merrill and at the loss of time. By now it was dark 
 enough for Miss Dick to make an effective escape, 
 and except for the presence of this burly person in 
 front of him, the girl would already be riding off 
 there into the shadows. 
 
 Merrill's arrival had been most untimely. Through 
 the flash of his thoughts Rangy could envision the 
 disaster which the man's presence might entail. 
 Within a very few minutes that chaparral must be 
 ablaze on the far side, with its flames mounting to 
 the sky and robbing the girl of the advantage of 
 the night. What a fool he had been to suggest such 
 a thing! For this chaparral, dry and tindery through 
 the many blisterings of the sun, would burn like 
 straw. It would flare swiftly to the sky and throw 
 the glare of fire all about them. 
 
 Rangy's lips grew straight in spite of the banter 
 of his voice. Merrill or no Merrill, Miss Dick must 
 be out of that trap within the next five minutes or 
 her last chance would be gone. 
 
 Merrill or no Merrill ! In the flash of that prompt- 
 ing the urge was strong upon him to pick a swift 
 quarrel with this arrogant owner of the Snaky Y, 
 who would doubtless be keen to inflict punishment 
 upon a woman the same as upon a man. A quarrel
 
 154 RANGY PETE 
 
 in this moment of Merrill's roiled passions would be 
 such an easy thing. A fight in the dark! Rangy did 
 not shrink from the prospect, but somehow or other 
 it seemed to be folly. This, rather, should be a 
 game of wits. 
 
 "His head seems to be drooping a bit," Merrill's 
 sneering voice went on critically. "I'm thinking, 
 Rangy Pete, that you've rode that cayuse a whole 
 lot farther than from Triple Butte. You didn't, by 
 any chance, ride him from the Lone Shadow 
 draw?" 
 
 Rangy Pete turned his head aside. The insinua- 
 tion of that remark was a biting thing. Still, how 
 was he supposed to know there was any insinuation 
 in it at all? 
 
 "The Lone Shadow draw?" he reflected; and 
 even as he spoke, he could see the first faint lightening 
 at the edges of the shadows on the far side of the 
 chaparral. "Seems to me I have been there, but I 
 don't quite place it 
 
 It was only with a strained effort that Rangy 
 could command his voice. Already the chaparral 
 was on fire. In a very few minutes now the blaze 
 would be intense. And Merrill was still standing 
 between Miss Dick and safety! 
 
 "It's out past the Pelican, ain't it sakes alive! 
 The chaparral's on fire. See, Dan, over your shoulder 
 there." 
 
 Merrill swung about and in that instant the guard
 
 RANGY PETE 155 
 
 posted by Sonnes rode through the shadows and 
 disappeared. Rangy Pete knew what the outlines 
 of that man's form might do for him. 
 
 Instantly he became a fever of excitement. 
 
 "Gad, Merrill!" he exclaimed, "there they are. 
 Didn't you see that shadow? We'll get them, 
 Merrill, if there's anything more to you than a 
 bunch of bluster. Come!" 
 
 Rangy 's excitement, though artificial, was never- 
 theless effective and contagious. He slapped the 
 cayuse into quick action and darted swiftly in the 
 direction of the shadow which had caught Merrill's 
 eye. As he rode into the night, Rangy emitted a 
 great volume of vocal sound. 
 
 "We got to keep them in the chaparral till it gets 
 lighter!" he exclaimed, as he glanced back over his 
 shoulder and saw that the feverish Merrill was 
 immediately behind him. 
 
 Rangy rode directly away from Miss Dick's 
 position, with Merrill at his cayuse's heels, and he 
 dashed up to the edge of the chaparral, firing bullets 
 into the ground as he went. 
 
 Just there he glanced once more over his shoulder, 
 and as he looked he caught the flitting of another 
 shadow which rode swiftly out of the chaparral and 
 vanished into the night towards the north. That 
 brought to him the keen warmth of victory. That 
 was why his voice was elated when he shouted 
 again at Merrill
 
 156 RANGY PETE 
 
 "We drove them back, Dan, old boy! We'll get 
 them yet!" 
 
 "We musta drove them back," Merrill admitted, 
 "for they're not here." 
 
 At that instant the guard rode up beside them, 
 and Rangy Pete, looking out across the chaparral, 
 saw the first thin tongue of flame leaping towards 
 the sky. But Miss Dick, he knew, was beyond its 
 menace. And because of that he sighed softly and 
 he felt an intense glow about the region of the heart 
 which he did not attempt to understand. 
 
 "They'll never get away now," Merrill gloated, 
 and Rangy felt a sensation of revulsion at the sound 
 of the voice. 
 
 Still he answered - 
 
 "Never. We shore got them trapped."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 WHILE the last reddening gleam of the burning 
 chaparral was flickering across the sky, Rangy Pete 
 rode around to the north of Triple Butte and came 
 upon that small cluster of tree-growth where Miss 
 Dick should be awaiting him. 
 
 He thought of Dan Merrill, big, swarthy, arrogant, 
 domineering, burned by the passions of life, young 
 enough to be virile, old enough to be wily, grasping 
 enough to be unscrupulous, successful enough to be 
 daring, cold enough to rule his men with an iron 
 hand; and he wondered if Merrill, in all his shrewd- 
 ness, would be keen enough to find any association 
 between him, Rangy Pete, and the failure of that 
 burning chaparral to drive any Dervishers into the 
 open. 
 
 That was something which the future would have 
 to answer; for he had not waited to see. Yet if 
 Merrill should guess the truth, then the uncharted 
 days yet to come would not be pleasant things. 
 
 But for the present the problem was that of 
 Miss Dick. 
 
 As he rode towards that small clump of chaparral, 
 Rangy found that his emotions were in a tumult of 
 
 157
 
 158 RANGY PETE 
 
 conflict. He hoped she would be there waiting for 
 him, and yet that hope was almost a fear. 
 
 It was not right that Miss Dick, though a bandit, 
 should have her emotions fed upon excitement such 
 as that through which they had just squeezed with 
 such narrow margin; but when he drew near to the 
 trysting place Rangy told himself that the blue-eyed 
 one, if here, would now be quite content to ride 
 back to the tumbled land of hills and valleys which 
 lay beyond the Pass. 
 
 At the extreme tip of the chaparral he found her, 
 standing by the side of the horse and gazing off 
 towards the dying embers of that night fire. She 
 recognized him instantly as he drew near. 
 
 "You surely had your wits about you tonight, 
 Mr. Pete," she complimented easily, "so I am 
 certain we will not have a bit of trouble getting 
 that box of evaporated apples." 
 
 Rangy Pete mumbled something in his throat 
 which was strangely like the rumblings of astonish- 
 ment. For a moment he gazed at the shaded out- 
 lines of her face, and the tip of his fingers strayed up 
 to toy with his left ear. 
 
 "Then you haven't had enough of it?" he asked 
 uncertainly. "I figured you shorely would have." 
 
 The girl laughed lightly, as though the promise 
 of the future were a relish. 
 
 "It isn't that," she explained, "but there is no 
 time like the present. Triple Butte will be too
 
 RANGY PETE 159 
 
 excited to think much about Ike (Hollander tonight, 
 so how soon clo you think we had better be going?" 
 
 Still Rangy stared for a tune. 
 
 "Who said anything about 'we'?" he burst out, 
 at last. "Miss Dick, I'm thinking the best thing 
 you can do is to slope it out of sight as fast as you 
 know how. But before you go, I'd shore take it as 
 a compliment if you'd take off that mask and give 
 me one little peek at your face. I ain't got no 
 memory for faces at all. I'd forget it before you 
 were outa sight." 
 
 "Your compliments are remarkable for their 
 directness," the girl broke in. "First you tell me 
 I am the most homely woman you have ever met, 
 and now you say you could forget me even before 
 my back was turned." 
 
 A definite consciousness of inferiority seemed to 
 assail Rangy Pete, so that for a time all he could 
 do was stand and grin. 
 
 "You go picking me up wrong," he protested, at 
 length. "I'm just wanting you to slope it so you won't 
 get hurt. What I'm telling you is no joke. Triple 
 Butte won't be healthy tonight for strangers. The 
 red-eye will be running about as fast as a dozen men 
 can lap it up, and before we could get there the 
 folks'll be having that feeling that makes them shoot 
 first and ask questions after." 
 
 "You really mean it?" Miss Dick exclaimed with 
 enthusiasm. "Then we couldn't possibly find a
 
 160 RANGY PETE 
 
 better night. I am glad you told me, Mr. Pete, 
 for I have been waiting for a long time to see a 
 town on the loose isn't that what you call it? 
 How soon can we get away?" 
 
 Rangy's protests were vehement and prolonged. 
 They took the form of a detailed word-picture <>f 
 the glee which the Merrill punchers would find in 
 any victory over the Dervishers, however small; 
 but though he grew quite eloquent and really sur- 
 prised himself, Miss Dick merely stood waiting 
 impatiently until he had finished. 
 
 "You do seem particularly anxious to keep mo 
 out of Triple Butte tonight," she mused. "Is there 
 anything special there you don't want me to 
 see?" 
 
 "There shore is," he grinned; "it's the calaboose. 
 It don't look so uninviting from the outside, but it 
 ain't ever been the same since Buck Menzie spent 
 a night there. Buck got into an argument with a 
 window and the place has been draughty ever since. 
 Besides, that Buzzard Flynn person is most apt to 
 be yowling around there tonight." 
 
 "You are entirely too thoughtful," Miss Dick 
 interrupted. "I have reached this stage without a 
 guardian 
 
 "And ain't you thinking it's about time somebody 
 took you^n hand?" Rangy interjected, in his turn. 
 
 Miss Dick stood quite still, looking at Rangy 
 through the night until he fancied that the cold
 
 RANGY PETE 161 
 
 blue of her eyes began to glitter through the slits 
 of her mask. 
 
 "Might you be thinking of trying it?" she asked 
 calmly; then she rushed on more impetuously, "For 
 I wouldn't advise you to." 
 
 For the first time since meeting with this feminine 
 road agent, Rangy became conscious of a feeling of 
 irritation; but that was rather at his own inability 
 to cope with her moods. 
 
 "You seem to be forgetting, Miss, that you're 
 my prisoner," he retorted, with a suggestion of 
 outward rankle. 
 
 "How like a man!" The girl's mood swung back 
 to quick laughter. "Now that it is all settled, don't 
 you think we had better be starting? The reflection 
 of that fire has quite died out and everybody must 
 be in Triple Butte by this time." 
 
 Without a word Rangy turned his cayuse towards 
 the town and the girl swung in at his side. For a 
 time they rode thus through the silence, while from 
 the vastness of the world - the only sound which 
 reached them was the crunching of the horses' hoofs. 
 Over earth and sky there was the blur of darkness, 
 while the silence seemed to rise up and press about 
 them like the intangible spirit of the vast plains. 
 It was a strange silence, which seemed to whisper 
 to the man that in the whole great world there were 
 but two human beings, himself and this queer girl 
 at his side. To Rangy Pete it brought a touch of
 
 162 RANGY PETE 
 
 loneliness, accustomed though he was to the solitude 
 of the hills and of the plains, and it roused within 
 him feelings which he could not understand. 
 
 Rangy sighed through the darkness. Tonight he 
 would play the woman's game; and tomorrow - 
 
 Abruptly he shook his head with a keener con- 
 sciousness of the present and of the peril of that 
 thing which the girl purposed to do. With that, 
 the passion of fear for her rose up to grip him. 
 
 "You're not going in to Triple Butte," he heard 
 himself saying, in a voice so stern as to be almost 
 that of a stranger. "You're going to stay out 
 behind the corrals, for if you don't, I'll rope you." 
 
 "All right, Rangy," the girl's voice came back 
 meekly, so meekly that he found himself once more 
 astonished at the strange whims of womankind. 
 
 But it was a meekness of which he speedily took 
 advantage, so that shortly he had picked out a 
 perfectly safe place for Miss Dick to await his return. 
 
 "I will give you an hour," the girl declared in a, 
 whisper, as he made ready to ride away. "After 
 that, I will consider myself free again. Remember, 
 I am a person of my word. No trifling. I want that 
 box of evaporated apples." 
 
 "Time to spare," Rangy returned in a confident 
 whisper; and shortly he was riding swiftly towards 
 Triple Butte. By the time he reached the outlying 
 shacks strung along the single highway, he became 
 more and more convinced that the time was not
 
 RANGY PETE 108 
 
 opportune for the burglarizing of Ike Collander's or 
 any one else's premises. The whole of Triple Butte, 
 and the punchers for miles around, it seemed, had 
 gathered along this dusty highway, in a condition 
 which appeared like fluctuating excitement. 
 
 There were so many strange cayuses and such a 
 blaring of human voices that Rangy vanished into 
 the darkness at the side of the buildings and felt 
 his way along to the rear of Collander's storeroom. 
 Merrill's box of apples, as nearly as he could 
 remember, had been placed on top of a pile of similar 
 boxes near the rear doorway, so in view of the excite- 
 ment out in front, the work of pillage should be 
 comparatively simple. 
 
 An important thing, however, would be to know 
 the exact location of Ike Collander; for Ike's theory, 
 he knew, was to shoot and then to investigate 
 afterwards. Still, there were no side windows 
 through which to spy upon Collander. 
 
 "There's nothing like being a fool for caution," 
 Rangy informed himself, as he appreciated the neces- 
 sity of taking a chance on the whereabouts of his 
 employer. "There's one thing counting my way, 
 for if Ike shoots, he's just as apt to hit the ceiling 
 as the floor." 
 
 The back door was locked, but his personal key 
 negotiated that difficulty. Rangy stole forward and 
 half way up the room he stumbled against a package 
 and some article fell to the floor with a thud.
 
 164 RANGY PETE 
 
 For a time Rangy froze in his tracks, listening 
 intently for the faintest sounds from the room 
 beyond. There came a scraping sound which may 
 have been made by the explorations of a strange dog 
 or which may have signified the awakening of Ike 
 Collander. The sounds drew nearer, approached 
 the door, paused, then went away again. 
 
 "Couldn't a been Ike," Rangy decided, "for he 
 would have moseyed right in." 
 
 Thus self-consoled, Rangy Pete began to move 
 about more swiftly. He reached the pile of evapo- 
 rated apple boxes without further mishap, and on 
 the top, where he had put it, he found a crate which, 
 through the darkness, seemed to be the Merrill box. 
 There was a smooth strip of something along the 
 surface, which must be the splashing of red paint; 
 and there was - 
 
 Sudden footsteps in the store in front of him. 
 Hurried footsteps which seemed to have a purpose 
 in life! Other hurried footsteps at the side of the 
 store running men at both sides of the store 
 
 "Of all the plumb idjiots!" Rangy grappled with 
 the situation with frantic haste. " I do believe they're 
 surrounding the place, and with me inside, what's 
 supposed to be somewhere else!" 
 
 Rangy thought of the door, but those running 
 footsteps, he knew, had cut off his retreat, provided, 
 of course, he happened to be the object of their 
 interest. Exit by the main store was likewise cut
 
 RANGY PETE 165 
 
 off by those other tramping feet. For a rapid instant 
 Rangy experienced the sensation of a trapped animal. 
 Then abruptly he grinned to himself through the 
 darkness. 
 
 "Rangy," he admonished, "if you ain't most nigh 
 as big an idjiot as the rest of them. You jest got to 
 go to sleep, peaceful like, and that's all there's to it." 
 
 Through the convenient pause, while the footsteps 
 stopped outside either doorway, Rangy worked 
 rapidly. He stripped off his coat almost at the 
 same instant that he felt out hurriedly with his 
 hands. There was a huge crate of dry goods which 
 had arrived a few days previous and which he had 
 helped to place in the storeroom. This crate, he 
 knew, provided an admirable barrier to bullets, if 
 only Ike Collander had not been mussing about in 
 his absence. For the crate, as he left it, was quite 
 out of the line of fire from either doorway. 
 
 Rangy's hands came into contact with wood. 
 
 "Ike shore is a little prince for once," Rangy 
 decreed, as he found the crate undisturbed. 
 
 Even as he rolled up his coat, Rangy dropped 
 down behind the crate and stretched out at full 
 length upon the flooring. 
 
 Through a labored breathing, assumed for the 
 benefit of his new audience, Rangy listened intently 
 for developments. It was obvious now that the 
 storeroom was the center of attraction, for there 
 were gentle scratchings at either doorway.
 
 166 RANGY PETE 
 
 "They're shore mightily slow horning their way 
 in," Rangy reflected. "They ain't none of them 
 being dead set on crowding the others out, and 
 that's what I call being rare polite. I wouldn't be 
 surprised if they had all gone loco and got the idea 
 that I'm a Dervisher or something like that." 
 
 From the direction of the main store there came 
 a noise which indicated that the door was being 
 opened, cautiously, an inch at a time. Rangy, 
 peering beyond the edge of the crate, looked for a 
 face in the doorway, but there was not even the 
 streak of light which should have accompanied the 
 opening of the door. 
 
 So their nerves were on edge! They were serious, 
 after all! They had even darkened the room 
 beyond. 
 
 With this discovery Rangy applied himself a 
 trifle more industriously to making the sounds of 
 slumber. From creakings at the other end of the 
 room he could tell that the rear door was also being 
 pushed open with extreme caution. Presently there 
 was a voice from the direction of the store. It was 
 not in the doorway, he could tell that; for it must 
 be sheltered somewhere out beyond. It was the 
 voice of Sheriff Stipples, arrogant, but with its 
 body amply protected. 
 
 "You might as well come out, you blooming 
 highway gent, for we've got the place surrounded. 
 And don't try any little shooting game, or we'll
 
 RANGY PETE 167 
 
 string you up so high the birds'll get dizzy goin' 
 after yore bones." 
 
 Sheriff Stipples bellowed his command with such 
 vigor that Rangy wondered if he were still justified 
 in assuming the pose of slumber. He might be 
 excused for waking, he knew that, and for calling 
 out some message which would end the man-hunt. 
 But that was not entirely satisfying. If Triple Butte 
 really had an attack of the nerves, he would like 
 ample proof of it. 
 
 So Rangy hunched his legs into the certain pro- 
 tection of the dry-goods box and he attempted a 
 noise like a man who is disturbed in his slumbers. 
 
 "He's there all right, fer I heard him move.'* 
 Rangy heard a peppery voice which he recognized 
 as that of Ike Collander. "I'm goin' in after him, 
 I tell you." 
 
 "You wanta get yore hide full of holes?" Stipples 
 protested. "Hey, you fellers at the back, keep 
 away from the door, fer I'm a gonna turn my gun 
 loose if he ain't come out by the time I count three. 
 Listen, you bloomin' bandit, I'm a countin' three, 
 kinda slow, to give you time to think it over, an' 
 if you ain't a marchin' up to this door afore I've 
 said three, I'll be searchin' you out with lead." 
 
 Sheriff Stipples paused. Through the pause, 
 Rangy Pete, with full confidence in the crate of 
 dry goods, shifted again. 
 
 "I heard you, feller," Stipples bellowed again.
 
 168 RANGY PETE 
 
 "I know right where you are, an' I'm soon gonna 
 send a flock of lead your way. One Two - 
 Three!" 
 
 Stipples was as good as his word. 
 
 There was a rattle of shots and a storm of lead 
 came hurtling into the room. 
 
 The shots were accompanied by an extravagant 
 sound of breaking crockery and by the wreck of 
 other articles of a fragile nature. They were also 
 echoed by the excited voice of Ike Collander. 
 
 "You ain't gonna do any more of that, Stipples, 
 I'm telling you!" Collander was shouting out his 
 protests. "You've most mabbe ruined me now by 
 the things you broke. I'm going in there 
 
 Rangy Pete decided that it was tune to awake 
 from his slumbers. 
 
 "Hey, you tarnation idiots! What's going on 
 out there?" he roared, giving volume to his demand 
 in order that there could be no doubt as to his 
 identity. "Can't a fellow go to sleep nowhere in 
 this town but what somebody's got to come saluting 
 him with artillery?" 
 
 From the silence which followed, Rangy knew 
 that his voice had carried its own surprise into the 
 ranks beyond. He knew, also, that the moment 
 was opportune for deploying upon his assailants. 
 So he rose, and with coat dragging after him in one 
 hand he sauntered out into the darkened store. 
 
 "Hey, Ike, what's going on here?" he demanded,
 
 RANGY PETE 169 
 
 in a voice purposely hard and cold and suspicious. 
 "Somebody been shooting at you, Ike? For if they 
 have- 
 
 Rangy paused for the sake of impression only. 
 
 "Light up, Ike," he ordered, in tones more harsh 
 than before. "It's all right, Ike. I got that bunch 
 covered. Hands up, you gents ! Strike a match, Ike. 
 And you other gents, if I don't see yore hands pawing 
 for the ceiling when I see you first, I'll be taking it 
 that you got a hankering for the lead treatment.'* 
 
 Ike Collander's strain of perversity promptly 
 showed itself. 
 
 Ike knew that he might have relieved the situation 
 by the use of a* few well chosen words, but instead 
 of using words he struck a match to a coal-oil lamp. 
 The flickering taper revealed the outlines of a small 
 cluster of men with arms raised discreetly aloft and 
 with that particular grin upon their lips which is 
 generally described as sheepish. 
 
 Rangy Pete, with a six-gun in his right hand, 
 and with his coat dangling from the other, eyed 
 them coldly, with unsmiling deliberation. 
 
 "I'm counting a whole lot of gents what has a 
 pile of judgment," he began. "No you don't, Buck 
 Menzie. Keep them up, for I'm thinking you ain't 
 got the price to go buying wooden kimonos. Lefty, 
 there ain't nothing so healthful as sticking the 
 fingers in the air and kinda reaching up. It's good 
 for the constitushun when there's a gent looking at
 
 170 RANGY PETE 
 
 you from the wrong end of a bit of artillery. Now, 
 Ike, it's yore turn to wag yore little tongue. Don't 
 be afraid, Ike. Tell me what it's all about, for they 
 ain't nobody gonna hurt daddy's little boy now. 
 What one of the said gents with the peace sign stuck 
 up has been trying to go to wasting lead on 
 you?" 
 
 Ike Collander was temperamentally inclined to 
 enjoy the situation to some greater length, but a 
 glance from Sheriff Stipples seemed to imply that 
 his present conduct, if unfavorable, would be checked 
 up against him for future use. 
 
 "You big lummux!" Ike roared out, "was that 
 you in the storeroom alia time?" 
 
 "Whether I'm me or somebody else ain't got 
 nothing to do with it," Rangy decreed. "What I'm 
 getting sort of impatient about is who's been so 
 permiskuous with lead in little Ike's store. Don't 
 you be afraid, Ike, for if any of these buckos has 
 been trying to make you dance some 
 
 "Was you alone in there?" Collander demanded 
 with vigor. "And what do you mean by coming 
 sneaking around that way without letting me know? 
 How's I to know you wasn't one of them Dervishers 
 come back?" 
 
 Rangy permitted a little of the severity to relax 
 from his features. 
 
 "Seeing that Ike can't talk straight, you can set 
 yore tongue to working, Mr. Sheriff," he addressed
 
 RANGY PETE 171 
 
 Stipples, "and the quicker you let me know what's 
 been happening " 
 
 "Ike musta got a touch of the willies; that's all 
 I know about it," Stipples broke in hurriedly. "He 
 come running out into the street saying there's some 
 Dervishers in the back room, so we kinda surrounded 
 the place. It's me what fired into the room. Didn't 
 you hear me bidding you to come out?" 
 
 Rangy Pete slipped his gun back into its holster 
 and a grin came to his lips. 
 
 "You can all take down the peace flags, gents," 
 he returned. "Shore, I heard something, Sheriff. 
 But being asleep, I kinda thought it was a funny 
 dream. That's what made me peevish, to be woke 
 up that way. And ain't Ike the queer little cuss? 
 Ike's shore gotta pay for thinking I'm a Dervisher, 
 and since you gents has appointed me judge, I'll 
 say Ike's gotta take us all over to Tony Burke's and 
 set them up for the bunch. What you say, gents?" 
 
 Even to Ike Collander the solution seemed to be 
 a happy one. For experience had taught him that 
 the surest way to still the ridicule of such an incident 
 would be to drown its memory in red-eye. At the 
 front doorway they met the three punchers from the 
 Snaky Y who had formed the attacking party at the 
 rear, and though there was marked disappointment 
 in their manner, it vanished the moment they learned 
 the nature of the punishment which Rangy had 
 inflicted upon Collander.
 
 172 RANGY PETE 
 
 To Rangy Pete also the solution seemed feasible, 
 for with these curious ones safely deposited in Tony 
 Burke's saloon, it should be a relatively simple 
 matter to slip from their midst, continue his pillage 
 of the Collander store, and return to Miss Dick all 
 within the time limit of an hour. 
 
 But if he failed in that? A slight tremor of doubt 
 swept over him and for the moment left him cold 
 and speechless. 
 
 On the way a number of curious citizens who had 
 been attracted by the sound of firing were included 
 in (Hollander's punishment, and that was gratifying 
 to Rangy Pete. The larger the number, the better 
 would be his opportunities for escape from their 
 importunities. The quicker would be his return to 
 Miss Dick. 
 
 As they crossed the highway Rangy glanced down 
 the dusty thoroughfare and wondered idly at the 
 number of cayuses strung along the hitching-posts. 
 Doubtless then* owners had been drawn by that 
 recent fire in the chaparral and now they were 
 remaining to add to that spasmodic burst of excite- 
 ment which had so suddenly gripped the citizens of 
 Triple Butte. 
 
 Cayuses dotted the whole length of the town's 
 roadway and there, in front of the Hash Knife 
 saloon, a black cluster of horses whose number 
 astonished him. Then almost instantly his brows 
 drew together in a worried frown. That would be
 
 RANGY PETE 173 
 
 the punchers from the Double K, the boys of his 
 old association, the boys with whom he had ridden 
 and worked and fought, until the recent anger of 
 old Calvin Bracken had sent him along his way. 
 
 Rangy Pete's devotion to the Double K still 
 remained, and that is why the frown deepened upon 
 his brow. For never yet, in his memory, had the 
 Double K and the Snaky Y punchers come together 
 in force without the red of blood dyeing the event 
 and planting still deeper the roots of the old feud 
 which in his day had stamped out so many lives. 
 
 The Double K at the Hash Knife and the Snaky Y 
 at Tony Burke's I Just a few hundred yards separat- 
 ing them from the untold possibilities of the future. 
 
 On another occasion he might have welcomed 
 that situation, with all its thrill of temporary mad- 
 ness; but tonight, with Miss Dick waiting for him 
 out there at the edge of the chaparral, and with the 
 minutes swiftly flying away, it was quite a different 
 thing. If only he knew what Miss Dick would 
 really do, in case he did not return within the hour! 
 
 And here was himself, an old member of the 
 Double K, walking calmly into the danger of Tony 
 Burke's saloon. He had scarcely thought of that 
 before, but now there was with him the sudden 
 memory that already he was more than half sus- 
 pected by Dan Merrill. Rough House Dan had 
 been sneering when they two were alone out there 
 on the chaparral. What would he be now, reinforced
 
 1T4 RANGY PETE 
 
 by a crew of his punchers, when he had had the 
 time to ponder more deeply upon. Rangy's recent 
 actions? 
 
 All that came to Rangy in a flash and it was with 
 him even while Stipples, by virtue of his office, 
 pushed his way forward to the bar. 
 
 "These here gents are all under arrest," Stipples 
 announced in a loud voice. "They're all arrested 
 and brought to the bar, and the punishment what's 
 coming to them is to keep on swallowing the red-eye 
 as long as Lefty Merker can hand it out. Lefty, 
 you go even with the bunch, and when you start 
 spilling thfe drinks the arrests are over. The first 
 is on Ike Collander, and after that, any gent what's 
 got a kindly feeling in his heart can join the bunch 
 by slipping the right password to Lefty Merker. 
 The password '11 be- 'This one's on me, Lefty.* 
 Come, gents, they ain't even ringers barred." 
 
 Immediately in front of the party were Merrill 
 and Bill Sonnes, leaning negligently against the bar 
 and adopting an annoying air of proprietorship. 
 Rangy cast a quick glance about and decided that 
 the air was doubtless justified, judging by the 
 amount of support which Merrill and Sonnes had 
 scattered about the huge room. There were Snaky Y 
 punchers everywhere. 
 
 Merrill's glance met his coldly, then traveled on 
 to the rest of the party. 
 
 "What you so cocky about, Stipples?" Merrill
 
 RANGY PETE 175 
 
 demanded arrogantly. "You been catching some 
 more Dervishers?" 
 
 The demand necessitated an explanation; and 
 Rangy Pete, watching Merrill shrewdly, could see 
 that the working of his frequent potations was 
 having its usual effect upon the man. At this par- 
 ticular stage Merrill was inclined to unbend; he 
 even looked at Rangy with a tolerant, judicial eye, 
 which reserves judgment, and he consented to laugh 
 harshly at the story which Stipples had to tell. 
 
 But Rangy knew that was for the present only. 
 The future libations of Dan Merrill, he knew from 
 experience, would shortly have an entirely different 
 effect. Ordinarily it would amuse him to see the 
 situation through; but tonight, with Miss Dick 
 awaiting him impatiently somewhere out in the 
 darkness 
 
 In that instant Rangy decided upon discretion. 
 
 "What you've been saying sounds all right, 
 Stipples," he inserted, "but such an important event 
 as this should not be pulled off without a referee. 
 Now, what gent'll volunteer to keep his throat dry 
 and then say who wins the bout?" 
 
 The sacrificial role of the referee was such a shock 
 to the gathering that volunteers were totally lacking, 
 though the suggestion won its measure of approval. 
 
 "Seeing there's no self-sacrificing gent in the 
 crowd, I'll be taking on them public-spirited duties 
 myself," Rangy pronounced, and in doing so he
 
 176 RANGY PETE 
 
 won the temporary fervor of popularity. "Now set 
 them up, Lefty, and make it fast." 
 
 With the bout well under way and with Merrill's 
 passing mellowness still tolerating his presence, 
 Rangy began to take swift stock of the situation. 
 Another fifteen minutes and the condition of the 
 drinkers would be such that he would not be missed. 
 He could then slip away, fulfil his policy of pillage, 
 and leave the future to decide that troublesome 
 problem of Miss Dick. 
 
 Fifteen minutes more, and that would leave him 
 time to spare. 
 
 Things, in spite of obstacles, were working out 
 satisfactorily; if only there were no further com- 
 plications! 
 
 One gratifying feature was that there were no 
 Double K punchers in the saloon. Doubtless they 
 were all down at the Hash Knife, carrying out a 
 duplication of this particular scene. In that instant 
 he wondered if it would be policy to slip down to 
 the Hash Knife in an effort to start the Double K 
 boys on their way home; but before he had decided 
 that point he found his attention drawn by a pair 
 of eyes resting upon him from the far end of the 
 room. 
 
 It was with the sensation of surprise that he 
 recognized the lean, leathery face about those eyes. 
 
 Ring'em Foster in Triple Butte! 
 
 Ring'em Foster of the Triangle O, and about him,
 
 RANGY PETE 177 
 
 in the remote corner of the bar, were four other men, 
 all tall, leather-faced punchers like himself. 
 
 Rangy sauntered in their direction. It was rather 
 a daring thing, he knew, for Ring'em Foster of the 
 Triangle O to appear in the same room with Dan 
 Merrill of the Snaky Y, for his memory was most 
 vivid with the details of their last meeting. It was 
 a heated moment, that last meeting, when Merrill, 
 caught off his guard, had looked down the barrel of 
 a six-gun and had listened with empurpled counte- 
 nance to well defined charges of brand-blotting and 
 debt-dodging. When the trouble between them 
 began, Rangy did not know; and though he recog- 
 nized that Merrill was notorious in evading his legal 
 debts and used the mailed fist to entrench his stand, 
 it was with a touch of impatience now, rather than 
 sympathy, that he walked towards Ring'em Foster. 
 
 For even the presence of Foster might complicate 
 a smoothing situation and keep him from that 
 appointment with Miss Dick. 
 
 "Hello, Rangy. Barred from drinks?" Foster 
 greeted. "Have one on us." 
 
 Foster smiled his friendship, as did those four 
 other leather-featured men; but instantly it became 
 obvious that their drinks were of the non-intoxicating 
 brand. To Rangy Pete that fact alone was something 
 of an augury. 
 
 "Ain't you a whole lot of distance from the old 
 home town?" Rangy bantered easily, to hide his
 
 178 RANGY PETE 
 
 frown. " You five little boys shouldn't be wandering 
 about all alone. Ain't you afraid somebody'll rope 
 you and put a new brand on?" 
 
 Ring'em Foster grinned in a confident way. 
 "Been down to the Hash Knife tonight?" he 
 asked quietly. 
 
 Rangy stared for a moment. 
 "Jumping Mavericks!" he exclaimed. "And I 
 thought they were the Double K boys. What's 
 eating you, Ring'em? Why this warpath stuff?" 
 
 "I've got a date on with Dan Merrill," Foster 
 continued to grin. "No, not the kind you mean. 
 I'm thinking the trouble is over. But I'm having a 
 little session with Dan, and I'd like you as witness, 
 Rangy." 
 
 Rangy calculated swiftly. 
 "How long?" he demanded. 
 "Ten or fifteen minutes at the most," Foster 
 assured. 
 
 Rangy nodded his agreement. The time, he 
 
 decided, must be passed in some way; so what 
 
 better augury than to spend it as the witness of peace. 
 
 "All right, Juke," Foster spoke quickly, "slip the 
 
 word to Burke. This way, Rangy." 
 
 As he followed towards a private room at the 
 rear, Rangy tried to convince himself that it was 
 the right thing for the Triangle O to be in Triple 
 Butte in force. The Triangle O! He rather thrilled 
 at the thought of that. The Triangle O boys, noted
 
 RANGY PETE 179 
 
 for attending strictly to their own business; famed 
 on the ranges because they were slow to start any- 
 thing; but who never yet had started anything they 
 were not prepared to finish. 
 
 While he followed Ring'em Foster, Rangy won- 
 dered if the man's calmness were but a cloak to 
 conceal the fact that he really had started something 
 with Dan Merrill. And was Foster dragging in him, 
 Rangy Pete? Already his relations with Merrill 
 were sufficiently strained. Not that it would matter 
 under ordinary conditions; but the present, with 
 its entanglements of Miss Dick, was far from the 
 ordinary. 
 
 Once inside the scantily furnished room, Foster 
 took up his position by the wall, calmly and watch- 
 fully, it seemed. 
 
 He had no word of explanation to make and 
 shortly the door opened. Merrill, arrogant and 
 flushed, stepped through and closed it behind him. 
 
 The man's eyes, reddened from his stiff potations, 
 swept from one to the other; than a snarl leaped 
 to his lips. 
 
 "Takes the two of you, does it?" he sneered. 
 "Well, damn you, Foster, you haven't got me yet!" 
 
 Foster did not make the slightest movement; 
 but Merrill, with a quick, downward jerk of the 
 arm, swung his six-gun from its holster. 
 
 The gun was on its upward arc when Rangy Pete 
 reached out and gripped Merrill's wrist in a para-
 
 180 RANGY PETE 
 
 lyzing hold, so that for a moment the huge Merrill 
 stood there moveless, glaring savagely about him, 
 with arm half raised. 
 
 "You got me wrong." Foster's lips parted in a 
 cold smile. "If it had been anything like that, 
 Merrill, don't think I would have troubled to get 
 you away from that gang of cut-throats you call 
 punchers." 
 
 Relief swept into Merrill's astonished features. 
 The confusion of drink seemed to leave him and he 
 summoned to his countenance the semblance of a 
 smile. Back of it was the tracery of wile, but for 
 the moment the dominating declaration upon his 
 face was one of relief. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" he demanded, without any 
 falling off of arrogance. "You can't blame me for 
 wanting to look at you with a gun, since that's the 
 last way you were looking at me the time I saw you 
 down at Holport." 
 
 Foster's brows narrowed slightly at the other's 
 tones, and his voice was firm when he replied: 
 
 "It seemed to me you would know all about it, 
 Merrill, since I got a message a few days ago to 
 meet you here tonight." 
 
 "A message to meet me?" Merrill exclaimed. 
 "I ain't been sending out any messages to you." 
 
 "So I imagined," Foster agreed. "But here is 
 the message just the same." 
 
 As he spoke, Ring'em Foster tossed an abbre-
 
 RANGY PETE 181 
 
 viated sheet of paper upon the table between them 
 and motioned for Merrill to take it up. 
 
 But Merrill stood there scowling. 
 
 " Want to get the drop on me? " he sneered. "No, 
 you don't pull anything like that." 
 
 Foster laughed mirthlessly. 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Merrill," he returned, with 
 weakening patience. "If I had wanted the drop 
 on you, I could have had it a dozen times tonight. 
 Well, if I have to read it, here it is 'Meet Dan 
 Merrill in Triple Butte three nights from this. He 
 will have ten thousand dollars towards paying off 
 that money he owes you.' It is signed merely 
 *A well wisher, in gratitude'." 
 
 Raucous oaths swept to Merrill's lips, so that for 
 a tune his passion seemed volcanic. He thrust his 
 derringer in its holster as though battling with the 
 temptation to use it; then, when he had somewhat 
 calmed, he snatched at the paper and glared at it 
 savagely. 
 
 Dan Merrill seemed to read it through, then he 
 glared again, first at Ring'em Foster, then at Rangy 
 Pete. His lips opened and closed sharply, as though 
 he were gasping for breath or words. 
 
 In time Merrill crushed the paper in his hand; 
 then he leaned across the table and whispered 
 savagely : 
 
 "Was that message sent to you, Foster?" he asked 
 harshly.
 
 182 RANGY PETE 
 
 "It was," Foster informed; and Rangy Pete, 
 looking from one man to the other in swift astonish- 
 ment, felt that there was surprise even in Foster's 
 manner. "It was delivered one night at the Triangle 
 O by a strange rider. My boys thought he must 
 have been one of your new punchers. Anyway, the 
 message was really delivered to me three nights ago 
 and I believed it. Here I am, Merrill, waiting for 
 that ten thousand on account." 
 v Again Merrill's eyes swept about the room in a 
 puzzled manner which was partly suspicious anger. 
 
 "See that writing!" he spoke in quick, jerky 
 words. "It's a woman's. A woman wrote that! 
 A woman knew it was going to happen." 
 
 Merrill's words trailed away into silence, and 
 shortly the man began to pace up and down the 
 room like a caged animal, as though for the tune 
 he had forgotten the presence of the others. 
 
 Rangy Pete looked on in wonder, and even Foster, 
 he could see, was vastly puzzled by Merrill's attitude. 
 
 "It's the money I came for, not dramatics," 
 Foster broke in sharply; and at sound of the voice 
 Merrill paused in his tramping and stood there 
 glaring. 
 
 Yet that glare, so far as Rangy was able to analyze 
 it, had but little to do with Ring'em Foster. It 
 concerned something quite apart from Foster and 
 seemed to be fixed rather upon the wall above 
 Foster's head than upon the man himself.
 
 RANGY PETE 185 
 
 "A woman knew it was going to happen!" 
 Merrill burst out violently. "A woman! Do you 
 hear that, Foster?" 
 
 There was wonder in Foster's voice when he 
 asked: 
 
 " What are you talking about, Merrill? A woman 
 knew what was going to happen? What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 Merrill's swarthy features twisted suddenly and 
 the lips broke out into an ill-omened grimace. It 
 appeared in that instant as though he had been 
 snatched back into a saner consciousness, as though 
 his feverish brain abruptly grasped something which 
 had been eluding him; for he laughed, and though 
 it was but a hollow echo, Rangy knew instinctively 
 that his mood had entirely changed. 
 
 "Nothing at all, Foster," he replied more calmly. 
 "I haven't that money and that's all there is to it. 
 You've been faked and you've had your trip for 
 nothing. There's a joker around here somewhere." 
 
 For a moment Foster's features darkened; then 
 with an effort he spoke quietly. 
 
 "When are you going to have it, Merrill?" he 
 asked. "You have been owing me that money and 
 a whole lot more for several years now, and it is a 
 strange thing to me where your money goes to. 
 Here I stock your ranch for you in the first place, 
 Merrill, when you come in a stranger. And because 
 I had a little heart and eased up on you for a few
 
 184 RANGY PETE 
 
 years, you seem to think you can keep on dodging 
 debts forever. You've sold more steers the last 
 three years than I have, and what's happened to 
 your money, Merrill?" 
 
 The latter's features attempted a placating smile. 
 
 "I've told you before, Ring'em, that every time 
 I ship a carload of cattle East the banks seize them. 
 They've got me tied up so tight that I'm nothing 
 but a slave to them. They got me when I bought 
 the ranch; you know that; and they had me before. 
 I've told you all this before, Ring'em." Merrill's 
 voice had now assumed the slightest suggestion of 
 a whine. "I told it to you that day down in 
 Holport before you lost your head and went a 
 pulling a gun on me. How many times have I got 
 to tell you, Foster?" 
 
 "Then what's all this about ten thousand dollars?" 
 Foster demanded. 
 
 It was with a palpable effort that Merrill con- 
 tinued his effort to smile. To Rangy Pete it seemed 
 that some particularly exquisite torture were being 
 applied to the man, but though he studied the 
 situation swiftly he was totally unable to find the 
 answer. 
 
 "I don't know anything about it," Merrill forced 
 a reply. "You've been bunked, Ring'em, and that's 
 all there's to it. You know I ain't ever had any 
 money in the banks around this part of the country, 
 'cause I couldn't get any to put in. You know that,
 
 RANGY PETE 185 
 
 because you've asked every bank there is. You know 
 I never get more than a few hundred dollars at a 
 time, just enough to keep my punchers stringing 
 along " 
 
 Foster waved his hand impatiently. 
 
 "All right, Merrill, enough," he ordered, "but I 
 know you are hiding something. And take it from 
 me, Merrill, I am out from this minute to find out 
 what it is. Now listen, for I've got a few things to 
 say to you. You came from the East. We never 
 knew you around this country and perhaps we don't 
 yet. We're easy around here with the stranger. 
 We make the road smooth for him; but take it from 
 me, there's a limit to patience, and if you've been 
 holding out on me, you'll need a bigger flock of 
 hardware than you're carrying tonight, and a bigger 
 gang of rough-necks than you have at the Snaky Y 
 to see you through it. Now, get out." 
 
 There was the cold flame of purpose in Ring'em 
 Foster's eyes as Dan Merrill swung noisily through 
 the doorway; but there was uncertainty as well. 
 
 "Do you think he's holding out, Rangy?" Foster 
 asked crisply. "How does he stand around here?" 
 
 Rangy shrugged his shoulders casually. 
 
 "Owes everybody in sight. The same sad tale is 
 told wherever Dan Merrill hits the trail. It's been 
 a kind of a mystery around here how Dan could sell 
 so many steers and steal a few of the Double K 
 calves, and yet never have any money. But that
 
 186 RANGY PETE 
 
 ain't got anything to do with me, Ring'em. I'm 
 due out of here this minute." 
 
 "So am I," Foster agreed. 
 
 The fifteen minutes which Foster had asked were 
 rather more than up, so that Rangy found himself 
 hurrying out in the direction of Tony Burke's front 
 saloon. There was still plenty of time to fulfil the 
 mission of Miss Dick within the hour limit; but 
 discretion demanded that he be seen once more by 
 the roisterers. Just a minute or two in the outer 
 room would do it; then he would slip away into the 
 uncertainty of the night. 
 
 Rangy began to work his way slowly and carelessly 
 through the crowd, avoiding entanglements and 
 complications; and he was half way to the door when 
 the abrupt sound of a voice halted him. 
 
 "And if there ain't old horn-toad Pete!" The 
 roaring voice was compelling the attention of the 
 whole room, but not the least astonishing feature of 
 it was that its owner was perched calmly upon the 
 bar with Sheriff Stipples and two or three of the 
 Snaky Y punchers about him. 
 
 It was Jumbo Irish. Jumbo Irish of the Double K, 
 alone amid the throng of Snaky Y punchers who, 
 at an instant's notice, might swing into vengeful 
 enemies ! 
 
 Rangy Pete heaved a sigh of weariness. 
 
 More time must be snatched from those precious 
 minutes which remained to him for the carrying out
 
 RANGY PETE 187 
 
 of Miss Dick's mission. For he could not leave 
 Jumbo Irish, or even the most humble member of 
 the Double K for that matter, in such a precarious 
 position as Jumbo now occupied. Temporarily, he 
 could see, Jumbo was enthroned, in compliance 
 with some strange whim of the Snaky Y; but the 
 future, he knew, when tangled with red-eye and 
 reckless punchers, can be more fickle than the winds 
 of springtime. 
 
 No, there was no alternative. He must get Jumbo 
 Irish beyond danger. 
 
 Out of the comparative silence Bill Sonnes' voice 
 roared. 
 
 "Rangy, this shore is one busy night for the 
 referee. You got another job on your hands. You 
 just squint your eyes at Jumbo and tell us, is he 
 gone loco, or isn't he?" 
 
 Inwardly, Rangy Pete was writhing. The situa- 
 tion, he could foresee, was apt to consume much 
 valuable time. 
 
 "Who ever said he was anything but loco?*' 
 Rangy asked gravely. 
 
 "I'm submitting, gents," Jumbo grinned in 
 reply, "that Rangy ain't qualified to judge. For 
 he owes me fifty yellow boys." 
 
 A roar of interest greeted this announcement and 
 Jumbo seemed in no way loath to explain. 
 
 "It's all gotta do, gents, with that Dervisher I 
 brought in. Yesterday afternoon Rangy and me
 
 188 RANGY PETE 
 
 meets up on the Double K trail while youse gents 
 are chasing bandits. We each finds a place on the 
 trail north of Little Forks where a Dervisher has 
 sloped it away from the main herd. So, being 
 sporting gents, we each takes a trail and we bet 
 fifty yellow boys on who's gonna bring in a Dervisher 
 first. I got my boy bedded down in the calaboose, 
 and if Rangy ain't toting his around somewhere, 
 then I win.'* 
 
 Rangy could see the yawning of treacherous 
 ground before him. Too close probing of the incidents 
 of the past hours would not do at all. A refusal to 
 discuss them would be no better. Besides, there was 
 always the possibility that Buzzard Flynn had talked. 
 
 "I'm hearing what you say about having a short- 
 horn rounded up, Jumbo," he replied, as he tried 
 to read swiftly through the darkening future, "but 
 what has that got to do with what Bill Sonnes has 
 been asking me?" 
 
 Sonnes interrupted with drunken laughter. 
 
 "He's been springing a queer story on us, Rangy," 
 Sonnes informed. "He told Stipples that he caught 
 one bandit at night, and when he woke up in the 
 morning, said bandit's gone, but there's another 
 sleeping all nice and cosy where he left the first. 
 So I'm asking you, curious like,, to sav if Jumbo is 
 loco or if he ain't." 
 
 Rangy assumed a puzzled air and he edged over 
 towards Sonnes.
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 "You don't mean that Jumbo's been saying any- 
 thing like that?" he asked in a loud whisper. 
 
 "He shore has, because that's what happened." 
 Irish took up his own defence. 
 
 Dan Merrill stepped through the crowd with a 
 loud guffaw. 
 
 "How have you been mixing them, Jumbo?" he 
 demanded. "I wouldn't object nohow to getting 
 ideas like that. It must be right restful at times." 
 
 A ripple of uneasy laughter crept slowly over the 
 audience. 
 
 "Better come with me, Jumbo," Rangy soothed. 
 "We'll go down to the Hash Knife and have a nice 
 quiet little drink. I know it's been awful hot these 
 two-three days, and they ain't no saying what 
 heat'll do to a fellow." 
 
 Rangy moved towards the door, but Irish seemed 
 to find something to resent hi the tones as well as 
 in the words. 
 
 "You don't believe me?" he roared. "I'm a 
 telling you " 
 
 With a nod at Sonnes, Rangy Pete again made use 
 of his bass whisper. 
 
 "We gotta humor him," he whispered; then in a 
 louder tone he addressed Irish. "That's all right, 
 Jumbo. They ain't any gent in the room who don't 
 believe you. We all know that road agents have got 
 funny habits. They do things like that all the 
 time "
 
 190 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Humor me, will you?" Irish bellowed, in still 
 louder tones. 
 
 "Shore, road agents do funny things," Rangy 
 went on, unheeding the noisy interruption. " I heard 
 of one once what certain gents were gonna string up 
 because they differed with him about some yellow 
 boys what had wandered away. They had the rope 
 on him, all ready to string him up nice and neat, 
 when what does he go and do but turn into a two- 
 year old maverick right in their hands. So they 
 didn't string him up at all. They just threw a brand 
 on him, a new kind of brand what they made right 
 there, and they turned him loose again. Nobody 
 ain't ever seen anything of that brand since, so that 
 goes to show he must of turned back into a bandit 
 when they let him loose. I wouldn't be nowhow 
 surprised, Jumbo, if you'd throwed yore rope over 
 the same fellow. Did youse look on his shoulder 
 for the brand, Sheriff?" 
 
 The situation was unprecedented, even in Tony 
 Burke's saloon, where strange tales were known to 
 pass from lip to lip. The result was still more uneasy 
 shuffling on the part of the maudlin drunk, while 
 the relatively sober looked anxiously from Rangy 
 Pete to Jumbo Irish and back again. 
 
 "I didn't go lookin* fer no sech fool thing as that," 
 Stipples returned. 
 
 "Then I'm movin' right here that said party of 
 liquidated gents adjourns to the calaboose an' sorta
 
 RANGY PETE 191 
 
 : 
 
 inspects the bandit fer a brand what should be 
 summers around the left shoulder. If they ain't no 
 brand, then I moves we hears the rest of Jumbo's 
 story." 
 
 Such an expedition, feangy fancied, might have 
 its attractions for the semi-intoxicated, and if it 
 materialized it should leave an opejiing for him to 
 separate himself quietly from the rest of the party. 
 In that event he could go about his own appointed 
 duties. Even at that, he appreciated, the end might 
 be uncertain, for now the hour which he had allowed 
 himself was more than up. 
 
 Rangy's suggestion did appeal to the gathering, 
 only not entirely as he had anticipated. 
 
 "We sure gotta look for that brand," Buck 
 Menzie decreed, "but it ain't proper that no band 
 of gents should be traipsin' down to the calaboose 
 to wait on no Dervisher. I moves an amendment 
 'at Sheriff Stipples brings the Dervisher here " 
 
 A roar of approval drowned out Menzie's last 
 words. Any act which would break up the bout 
 was to be condemned; anything which would prolong 
 it was to be condoned. 
 
 "Seein' 'at the vote carries 'thout bein' put, 
 I moves that two other gents goes with Stipples, an* 
 they's gotta be sober gents, 'cause we can't let no 
 Dervisher get away." 
 
 Jumbo Irish mounted to a chair and temporarily 
 took command of the situation.
 
 192 RANGY PETE 
 
 " 'Tain't no use goin' to the calaboose," he 
 protested, in a far-reaching voice. "You won't find 
 no brand like that plumb idjiot Rangy Pete's been 
 talkin' about. This person weren't never no two- 
 year-old maverick 'cause when I first threw a rope 
 on him he was a woman." 
 
 Any previous wave of sound which had swept 
 over Tony Burke's saloon was mild compared with 
 the volume which greeted Jumbo's announcement. 
 
 "How come you to be makin' such a statement 
 as that, Jumbo Irish?" Sheriff Stipples asked aggriev- 
 edly, as soon as the other noises would permit it. 
 "This here's a serious court of the law. It ain't no 
 jokin' matter, an* they ain't no gent gonna walk 
 into my court an' go to tellin' stories what's con- 
 tempt of court. Jumbo Irish, you laid yoreself open 
 to be fined right severe." 
 
 "How you know it's a woman?" Dan Merrill 
 demanded. "If Jumbo Irish has been a ropin* a 
 woman, he's gotta tell about it. He ain't the only 
 one what's got a rope er what knows how to use it." 
 
 A restlessness crept over Rangy Pete. The situa- 
 tion was developing in an entirely obstinate way. 
 There was something in Merrill's voice which implied 
 a thirst for delayed violence, while the uncertain 
 attitude of the gathering was not encouraging. 
 
 Jumbo Irish was alone, unbacked by the boys of 
 the Double K, but if he felt the weakness of his 
 position, he did not show it.
 
 RANGY PETE 193 
 
 "Shore, I'll tell you all about it," he answered 
 Merrill. "I'se followin' the trail like I said, an* 
 after dark I comes to a place in the draw where 
 sumbody's struck camp. Knowin' it'd be a Der- 
 visher, I slips up, ropes 'em, an' when the person 
 speaks to me I know it's a woman. I didn't see her 
 face, 'cause she's wearin' a mask, but I seen some 
 long hair what'd tumbled down. She would'n say 
 she wa'n't a Dervisher, an' she would'n promise not 
 to run away, so I hog-ties her fer the night an' puts 
 her in a nice warm place with my blanket. I'm a 
 talkin* to the coyotes a hundred yards down the 
 draw all night, an' when I goes back to the woman 
 in the mornin' I finds she's a man, that person what's 
 down in the calaboose now." 
 
 Buck Menzie greeted the explanation with 
 laughter. 
 
 "You shore is loco, Jumbo," he decreed. "We 
 don't even have to ask Rangy Pete about that, 
 'cause we all seen the Dervishers yesterday afternoon 
 an' they weren't no women riders with them." 
 
 From between cups Ike Collander found occasion 
 to contribute wisdom which, under other conditions, 
 he might have kept to himself. 
 
 * 'Course you did'n see no woman rider, Buck 
 Menzie, 'cause youse so busy lookin' up in the air 
 to see how high yore fingers was a reachin'," Ike 
 wagged a finger in Menzie's face. "But if you'd a 
 been where I was, you'd a seen a woman. She's the
 
 194 RANGY PETE 
 
 purtiest li'l blue-eyed thing you ever laid eyes to. 
 An' she's got hair what looks like it'd been ripenin* 
 in the sun. She winked at me onct, she did, an' if 
 Rangy Pete had'n a been there I know she'd a 
 jumped offen her cayuse an* been a chattin' with 
 me. She's the person what got yore 'vaporated 
 apples, Dan." 
 
 Collander's statement appealed to sober the 
 revelers somewhat. It was either that, or they were 
 trying to use their muddled brains to get a grip upon 
 the situation. 
 
 "It begins to look as though yer 'skused, 
 Jumbo," Rangy hastened to put in. "You ain't 
 altogether loco, but they's sumthin* queer been a 
 goin' on." 
 
 Sheriff Stipples' face, which had gone temporarily 
 blank, again assumed an expression of intelligence 
 and he swung about and pointed a lean finger at 
 Rangy Pete. 
 
 "Yer the one what can tell us," he declared. 
 "Tony Burke told me you stood right across the 
 street with Ike Collander when the Dervishers hit 
 town. Now did you see any woman rider?" 
 
 All eyes centered upon Rangy Pete. 
 
 "Naw, I didn't see a woman rider," Rangy 
 returned deliberately, "but there was just a kid of 
 a boy rider holding down a cayuse in front of Ike 
 and me. I figured once that I'd perforate him, 
 but he looked so young and tender that I got soft-
 
 RANGY PETE 195 
 
 hearted. That must be the person Ike's been 
 dreaming about in his licker; and that's the same 
 person that Jumbo's been roping and thinking was 
 a woman." 
 
 Jumbo Irish, it became apparent, was much 
 relieved. The gathering likewise seemed to feel the 
 release of tension. The only persistently unchari- 
 table ones were Merrill and Sonnes, and the former, 
 it was obvious to Rangy Pete, was looking about 
 for some salve for his previous woes. He had now 
 reached that stage in his cups where he could look 
 for trouble more courageously, particularly as Jumbo 
 Irish, having strayed alone from the ranks of the 
 Double K, appeared like an easy victim. 
 
 Rangy 's eyes grew sharp and watchful, though 
 his lips held their bantering grin. Jumbo, it was 
 apparent, would shortly need a friend, and he must 
 not be allowed to face alone the vagrant whim of 
 the Snaky Y. As though to emphasize that obser- 
 vation, Sonnes spoke sharply, with the querulous- 
 ness of semi-intoxication. 
 
 "We otta string him up anyway," Sonnes pro- 
 tested, "since he's been roping a woman. Don't 
 matter if 'twas a boy. He says it's a woman, and 
 I'm guessing he otta know." 
 
 In the strained seconds of silence which followed 
 Sonnes' remark, the atmosphere changed from peace 
 to anger. 
 
 Jumbo's fingers twitched, but he held them
 
 196 RANGY PETE 
 
 under control. For he found that he was looking 
 not only into the faces of Sonnes and Merrill, but 
 that back of them were a half dozen of the Snaky Y. 
 
 Jumbo Lish counted swiftly the toll he might 
 take before he himself went out; then his eyes darted 
 past them to the face of Rangy Pete. 
 
 There was something in Rangy 's firm features 
 which told him that should a ciisis come they two 
 would stand or fall together; yet now Rangy was 
 shaking his head sharply. 
 
 Irish could see, as well, that Rangy's face became 
 a picture of worried concern even as he watched. 
 
 For Rangy Pete's glance, traveling past Jumbo Irish 
 through the open window, had caught a glimpse of 
 a horse and rider disappearing into the darkened 
 area leading to the rear of the Collander store. 
 And there could be no possible mistake as to identity. 
 
 It was Miss Dick. 
 
 Her hour was up. She considered herself once 
 more free to act according to the sway of her own 
 strange whims. Rangy shuddered slightly as he 
 thought of the possible end to be reached by the 
 girl's queer promptings. She did need a guiding 
 hand when sailing her course among these reefs of 
 Triple Butte. 
 
 Yet here hi front of him was the tableau of Jumbo 
 Irish still standing with twitching fingers, and with 
 the Snaky Y crew only too eager for him to make 
 that one swift, battling move of hostility.
 
 RANGY PETE 197 
 
 One angry shot fired in that scene of semi-intoxi- 
 cation would doubtless mean general carnage. In a 
 flash, Rangy wondered if battle and carnage would 
 not help Miss Dick and her purpose. Still, carnage 
 is impartial. And in this moment of crisis he knew 
 that he must find Miss Dick again, if to see no more 
 than the cold flashes which shone at times from her 
 eyes. 
 
 "I wouldn't go taking Bill up wrong," Rangy 
 spoke in a placating tone. "We're just a herd of 
 liquidated gents together a trying to paint the town. 
 I move one more round; then we adjourn." 
 
 Jumbo Irish, recognizing the futility of attempting 
 battle with the whole of the Snaky Y, was quite 
 ready to charge up the account against Bill Sonnes 
 until conditions should be more favorable. The 
 bulk of the others were relieved at the prospect of 
 seeing daylight again Dan Merrill alone seemed 
 keen to press the issue. Merrill by this time had 
 become peevish and quarrelsome, which was a 
 perfectly safe condition to be in, hi view of the 
 backing which crowded about him. 
 
 "This person Irish has been tryin* to make fun 
 of the hull lot of us," he pronounced. "He's been 
 tellin' a story what we can see if they's any truth in. 
 If it ain't true, then we make him eat it." 
 
 "How you gonna test it?" Stipples demanded. 
 "We ain't got nothin* but his word fer it." 
 
 "We shore has," Merrill declared. "We got the
 
 198 RANGY PETE 
 
 prisoner. He knows what's been a goin' on, even if 
 Irish don't. Stipples, you mosey right along to the 
 calaboose an' bring him up here. Here you, French 
 and Dexter, you go along, 'cause we don't want 
 that prisoner turnin' into no buckin' bronco when 
 the Sheriff's a tryin' to bring him up here." 
 
 Stipples, accompanied by the two Snaky Y 
 punchers, left the saloon without question. Merrill's 
 word was something to be respected, particularly 
 when the querulous mood was upon him. 
 
 Rangy Pete saw the future growing more treach- 
 erous still. For Buzzard Flynn, beyond doubt, 
 would be quite eager to tell his full story. That 
 would make him, Rangy Pete, accountable for the 
 present whereabouts of the woman bandit. 
 
 And at this particular moment Miss Dick was 
 somewhere at the back of the Collander store, 
 doubtless trying to pick her way in, to get that 
 case of evaporated apples. Rangy found that 
 the circumstances were nagging. If he could only 
 understand this keen desire for evaporated apples 
 he would be willing to accept the situation more 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Rangy stepped carelessly to the saloon's auxiliary 
 doorway, just beyond the end of the bar. He stood 
 there for a moment fanning himself with his som- 
 brero, then he stepped just as carelessly out into 
 the night. It was dark there, yet Rangy paused 
 after he had traveled a half dozen paces. He waited
 
 RANGY PETE 199 
 
 for a full minute, and when there was no indication 
 from within the saloon that he had been missed, 
 he circled quickly to the back of the building, 
 passed behind two other sets of buildings and finally 
 came out upon the main roadway hi the quiet section 
 above the saloon. Here he crossed the street, slipped 
 between two shacks and immediately made his way 
 to the rear of the Collander store. 
 
 As he had fully expected, Rangy found a cayuse 
 standing not far from where he had left his own. 
 It was well within the shadow of the corral, so he 
 lit a match and looked the animal over. 
 
 "Shore is the same bit of hoss-hide what Miss 
 Dick was a ridin* this afternoon," he informed 
 himself. "Next thing is to find out where she's 
 sloped it to herself. An* if she ain't hidin', that 
 match otta tell her it's me." 
 
 Rangy waited until his eyes became once more 
 accustomed to the darkness. He looked carefully 
 about in all directions. He listened. There was 
 neither sound nor sight of Miss Dick. 
 
 Already in the street beyond he could hear the 
 sound of the Sheriff's party returning with Buzzard 
 Flynn. 
 
 Rangy stepped to the rear doprway of the Colan- 
 der storeroom and listened again. So far as he could 
 judge, there was no human being within reach of 
 his voice, yet Rangy Pete raised his voice and spoke 
 to the night
 
 200 RANGY PETE 
 
 "I don't know, young person, where yer hanging 
 out, but I want to tell you this don't look like no 
 healthful night hi Triple Butte. I've got a duty to 
 perform, so if you'll jest slope it back to the place 
 where I left you, I'll be there sumtime afore mornin' 
 with what yer looking fer." 
 
 Rangy paused. No answer but the silence of the 
 night and the approaching noise of the Sheriff's 
 party. 
 
 A hurried tour about the Collander premises and 
 the corral told him nothing. A still more hurried 
 flight to the Hash Knife saloon was likewise unpro- 
 ductive. When that was over Rangy felt that he 
 had no option but to return to Burke's. 
 
 At the Hash Knife there were no Double K boys 
 in sight, but the Triangle O punchers were very 
 much hi evidence. Rangy counted sixteen of them, 
 who, with the five up at Burke's, made a presentable 
 little army. To Rangy Pete it seemed th'at there 
 was an atmosphere of waiting about the men from 
 the Triangle O, for though they had every outward 
 appearance of carousing, he did not have to lock 
 long to know that every man was absolutely sober. 
 
 Rangy returned to Burke's with a feeling that 
 the future was a most uncertain thing. There was 
 a warning of something in the atmosphere as he 
 once more stepped through the side door at the end 
 of the bar and sauntered over in the direction of 
 Jumbo Irish.
 
 RANGY PETE 201 
 
 Sheriff Stipples, he could see, had returned with 
 Buzzard Flynn in manacles, and as the attention 
 of the crowd was turned entirely to Flynn, Rangy 
 found an opportunity to speak to Irish. 
 
 "Hold yore head, ole timer,'* he spoke to Jumbo 
 hi a whisper. "Don't let nothing I say throw you 
 off yore feed, and remember we gotta see the game 
 through together." 
 
 "Where's Foster come into it?" Irish asked 
 hurriedly. 
 
 "Watch him an* see. I dunno no more about it 
 than you do." 
 
 The crowd separated from Buzzard Flynn and 
 attention was once more directed to Jumbo Irish. 
 
 Flynn was given a stiff glass of red-eye, after 
 which he was elevated upon a chair and was asked 
 to look the audience over for the man who captured 
 him. His eyes met those of Jumbo Irish, then they 
 traveled on. 
 
 "So they's sumbody been a playin* with you, 
 'sides Jumbo," Dan Merrill interpreted Flynn's 
 actions. "This shore is gettin* interestinV 
 
 Flynn did not trouble to answer. His glance 
 continued to wander. Rangy Pete met that glance 
 carelessly. For he felt that though he might have 
 been foolish enough to tell Flynn his name, the 
 other had at least not seen his face. The nearest 
 Flynn had come to seeing his countenance wfcs 
 .under the cottonwood, by the dull light of the fire,
 
 202 RANGY PETE 
 
 and at that point, he knew, Flynn would not be 
 making a very careful study of features. 
 
 Flynn 's glance roved on about the full group of 
 men, then back to Jumbo Irish. 
 
 "That's the person what roped me an* brought 
 me in," he said, as he pointed to Irish. 
 
 "Then whyn't you tell us in the first place?" 
 Merrill demanded peevishly, " 'stead of goin' lookin' 
 all about the room. What you mean by that?" 
 
 "I was just counting my friends," Flynn returned, 
 seemingly quite unperturbed. "And I just want to 
 say to them here, in plain hearing, that they must'n 
 hold any spite against Jumbo Irish, 'cause he used 
 me like a white man should." 
 
 Merrill, Sonnes and Stipples looked over their 
 shoulders hurriedly, and they shot swift glances 
 about the room in all directions. 
 
 "Who's yore friends in this room?" Merrill 
 demanded, with a slight falling off of arrogance. 
 "You jest point 'em out, Mr. Bandit, an' they won't 
 be nobody's friends fer long." 
 
 Flynn laughed with a confidence which astonished 
 Rangy, in view of his lack of fortitude a few hours 
 ago. 
 
 "Out of consideration for you, Dan Merrill, I 
 withhold their names," Flynn replied easily, "and 
 I warn you, if you got any respect fer yore hide, 
 don't try to string me up." 
 
 Merrill blustered, but through the bluster it was
 
 RANGY PETE 203 
 
 t 
 
 plain that lie was feeling the uncertainty of the 
 situation. Such things had happened before, even 
 in Triple Butte. Again Merrill looked hurriedly 
 about and this time he told himself that there really 
 were a number of strange faces in the room. 
 
 "We ain't thinkin' of stringin' you up, you 
 idjiot," Merrill returned. "We got you here to tell 
 us sumthin'. This here person, Jumbo Irish, says 
 that when he first threw a rope over you, you was 
 a woman. Then in the mornin' when he wakened 
 up, you had turned into yoreself." 
 
 Rangy, watching closely, could see that Flynn's 
 eyes showed astonishment. Flynn looked swiftly at 
 Jumbo Irish, and it was apparent to all that he 
 shivered slightly. Flynn tried to laugh, but there 
 was nervousness in his manner. 
 
 " Gawd, Mister, I'm glad the calaboose is handy," 
 he exclaimed. "Won't sumbody take me back there 
 now? I ain't noways hankerin' to be let loose no more." 
 
 Rangy Pete could see that the situation was 
 having its effect upon the semi-maudlin brains of 
 the gathering. He also found himself a trifle mysti- 
 fied at Flynn's action. 
 
 "You mean you wasn't a woman when Jumbo 
 first caught you?" Sheriff Stipples insisted. - 
 
 "Don't be a fool," Merrill broke in. "What we 
 wanta know is this, Mr. Bandit did Jumbo Irish 
 catch a woman in the evening, an' did you trade 
 places with her through the night?"
 
 204 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Did I trade places with a woman?" Flynn 
 laughed harshly. "Do you think I'm a bigger fool 
 than the Sheriff? If I let a woman loose, why would 
 I stay behind myself?" 
 
 Dan Merrill removed his sombrero and ran his 
 fingers roughly through his hair. 
 
 "Gawd, Stipples, that's right," he exclaimed. "I 
 had'n thought of that, but if anybody had let a 
 woman get away from Irish, he shore would 'n a 
 been fool enough to stay himself. He would'n a 
 asked no woman to rope him up. Gawd, Stipples, 
 what's been a goin' on?" 
 
 The situation was plainly depressing and sobering 
 to the beliquored minds of Triple Butte. Jumbo 
 Irish, it seemed, was conscious of that fact, for he 
 immediately took advantage of the silence which 
 followed Merrill's remark. 
 
 "I don't wanta go contradictin' Mr. Bandit 
 much," he declared, "fer it ain't polite. All I wants 
 to do is ask, was he a wearin' this here bit of blue 
 ribbon what fell offen his hair when I first roped 
 him?" 
 
 Jumbo held up for public gaze a small section of 
 knotted ribbon. 
 
 Stipples promptly jerked off Flynn's hat and 
 revealed a closely cropped head. 
 
 "That shore ain't the head I threw my rope over," 
 Irish went on with confidence, as he noted the 
 mystified air of his audience. "I throws my rope
 
 RANGY PETE 205 
 
 and it knocks off the person's sombrero. When I 
 comes up they's two braids of flaxen colored hair a 
 hangin' down, an' this here ribbon falls off the place 
 where the braids had been tied together. 'Tain't 
 fer me to make no suggestions, but I seem to be 
 rememberin' what Rangy said a while ago about 
 that other bandit a turnin' into a two-year-old 
 maverick. If they's a brand on this person's 
 shoulder " 
 
 "We'll see if there is," Stipples declared. 
 
 The Sheriff was about to carry his words into 
 action when the sharp spat of a revolver shot cut 
 through the other noises with an insistent arrogance. 
 Stipples jerked his hand back from Buzzard Flynn 
 and a quick silence fell upon the gathering. 
 
 "Who done that?" Stipples demanded, his face 
 puzzled. 
 
 "It come from outside," Merrill declared. "They 
 ain't nobody hurt, is they? You got friends out 
 there, you road agent?" 
 
 Flynn smiled in a superior manner as his eyes 
 traveled to the side door at the end of the bar. 
 
 Through the silence there could be heard the 
 sounds of scuffling, of stifled voices, and a moment 
 later three people plunged into the room, seemingly 
 with arms interlocked. They passed the end of the 
 bar and reached a clearing which the crowd hastily 
 made for them. There they came to a pause and 
 when the three had disentangled themselves some-
 
 SOS RANGY PETE 
 
 what it was seen that a man, smaller and slighter 
 than the average, was held in the grip of two Snaky Jif 
 punchers. 
 
 Merrill recovered his poise rapidly. 
 
 "What you got there, Fletcher?" he addressed 
 one of the punchers. "You think you got a prize, 
 er why you bringin* it in here?" 
 
 "We found it listenin' at the door," Fletcher 
 explained, "so we sneaked up on it from behind. 
 But it's a rip-ringer, boss. It ain't no tame coyote 
 like it looks. It got Berger clean through the 
 shoulder afore we could do anything "with it. It 
 shoots about like a streak of lightnin', an' it'd a 
 got me too if Dexter had'n a jumped it from behind." 
 
 Dan Merrill drew closer to inspect the captive. 
 
 "Anything what can get the drop on Berger ain't 
 keepin' company with no snails," Merrill declared, 
 without any apparent regrets for the wounded 
 cowboy. 
 
 Rangy Pete abruptly found his attention divided 
 between the new arrival, Dan Merrill and Ring'em 
 Foster. 
 
 Foster, he could see, was staring at the captive 
 with frank astonishment upon his features, then he 
 turned quickly to his four punchers and gave them 
 some whispered message. It was short and quick, 
 for immediately the four men left their places at the 
 bar and almost at once Rangy lost sight of them. 
 At the same instant he could see that Foster was
 
 RANGY PETE 207 
 
 pushing his way through the crowd towards him. 
 
 Even as Foster started across the reeking saloon, 
 Rangy 's eyes darted back to Merrill and the captive. 
 The latter was standing between Fletcher and 
 another puncher whom Rangy recognized as Dirk 
 Duffy, one of the younger element. The captive's 
 arms were held tight, the sombrero was pulled low 
 over his face, so that in the dim light Rangy could 
 tell only that he must be young. 
 
 Merrill stepped still closer with a loud laugh, and 
 he put one hand beneath the captive's chin and 
 tilted it upward. 
 
 As Merrill made that move, Rangy's hand darted 
 swiftly to his hip. For the light shining upon the 
 upturned face showed him the round firm chin, the 
 oval cheeks, the blue eyes which he had followed 
 into the butte lands. 
 
 It was Miss Dick, beyond a doubt, though Rangy 
 had never before seen her full face. 
 
 Rangy's right hand tightened on the butt of his 
 six-gun. As it tightened there, he felt his wrist 
 caught in the grip of another man's hand. 
 
 "Steady, boy. Wait," a voice whispered in his 
 ear; and without looking he knew it to be Ring'em 
 Foster. 
 
 Foster again? In a quick flash Rangy wondered. 
 Then he looked up at Jumbo Irish and nodded. 
 
 Rough House Merrill laughed into the upturned 
 fac of Misa Dick.
 
 208 RANGY PETE 
 
 Jumbo Irish stepped down from his chair and 
 crossed to the side of Ring'em Foster. 
 
 There was something tense in the atmosphere. 
 Even the maudlin drunk could tell that. For the 
 clamor of voices had ceased and practically the only 
 sound in the whole room was the occasional shuffling 
 of a restless foot. 
 
 Dan Merrill was still laughing hi the girPs face, 
 and Foster's hand was still upon Rangy's wrist. 
 
 "You an' Dirk shore has picked a prize, Flet," 
 Merrill ended his laughter, "fer it's a long time since 
 I've seen sech a purty gent as this a ridin' the ranges. 
 What you got to say fer yoreself, Mister, 'at you 
 gotta go listenin' at doorways? An' what you gotta 
 say fer ruinin' one of my pet punchers?" 
 
 Miss Dick remained silent, though Rangy fancied 
 that her eyes met those of Ring'em Foster and 
 remained there for a moment of understanding. 
 
 Again Merrill chucked the girl's chin. 
 
 This time Merrill's eye appeared to detect some- 
 thing unusual, for his hand abruptly swept down 
 and pulled the girl's riding coat wide open at the 
 front. 
 
 A small, dark object fell from behind the coat and 
 dropped to the floor. Merrill stooped and picked it 
 up, and when he held it out at arm's length, it 
 required no imagination for any one in the saloon 
 to know that it was a mask. 
 
 "A road agent," Sonnes exclaimed. "Let's hustle
 
 RANGY PETE *09 
 
 him. They's a fine tree jest up the trail a piece " 
 
 Merrill swore fluently. A certain fever of excite- 
 ment appeared to have gripped him. 
 
 He reached out now and tore the sombrero from 
 her head, and as he did so a coil of flaxen hair was 
 loosened and fell about her shoulders. 
 
 "Gawd!" Merrill exclaimed, as he turned about 
 to his audience with a puzzled expression upon his 
 features. "A girl!" 
 
 A ripple of amazement swept over the gathering, 
 then shortly there was silence again. Miss Dick 
 remained motionless, staring straight before her 
 with angry eyes. 
 
 "I guess we ain't a gonna do no lyncliin' now," 
 Sonnes laughed foolishly. "But now you got the 
 little she-cat, Dan, what you gonna do with her?" 
 
 Stipples, somehow or other, appeared to have 
 been left out of Bill Sonnes' calculations. 
 
 " She's goin' to the calaboose," the Sheriff declared. 
 "Ain't we seen the mask? That's enough to tell us 
 she's one of the bandits." 
 
 "Calaboose? Hell!" Merrill brushed Stipples 
 aside. "She ain't goin' to no calaboose, Stipples. 
 'Cause why? 'Cause she's a gonna go with me out 
 to the Snaky Y. Ain't you, you li'l hell-fire pet?" 
 
 Miss Dick struggled slightly in her anger, and 
 Ring'em Foster raised his left hand into the air. 
 
 Simultaneously there came a fusilage of revolver 
 shots. There was the crashing of glass, and instantly
 
 210 RANGY PETE 
 
 the room was plunged into all but darkness. One 
 light was left burning, an unimportant one, above 
 Lefty Merker's head, and it showed the tableau of 
 figures standing about the girl in dull relief. 
 
 "Now," Foster whispered, "fists. One each. Then 
 out the back way and hold the door." 
 
 Rangy Pete and Jumbo Irish needed no second 
 invitation. They both leaped forward at Miss Dick's 
 captors, with Foster at their side. 
 
 Merrill, sensing then* attack rather than seeing 
 it, half turned his face. He met Rangy 's fist and 
 promptly sagged to the floor like a sack of grain. 
 
 Bill Sonnes, seeing the shadowy form of Irish 
 upon him, reached for his gun. He got it from its 
 holster, but at that instant Irish's fist crashed into 
 his face. The gun exploded on a line with the feet 
 of the spectators, and there was a scream even as 
 Sonnes collapsed and slipped to the reeking floor. 
 
 Foster attacked so swiftly that he felled Duffy 
 and Fletcher with right and left-handed blows, and 
 almost before the gathering knew there had been 
 a battle, the battle was over. 
 
 "Quick!" Foster whispered, as he took Miss Dick 
 by the arm and hurried her through the side exit. 
 
 As he closed the door behind Rangy and Jumbo 
 Irish, Foster turned and shot out the remaining 
 light above Merker's head. 
 
 Outside, in the comparative darkness, a cayuse 
 was standing.
 
 RANGY PETE 211 
 
 "That's mine," Miss Dick remarked calmly. 
 
 "Yer lucky," Foster returned. "Jump in the 
 saddle, Miss, and smooch it. Hit fer the Double K, 
 and we'll come along later and blind yore trail." 
 
 Miss Dick mounted as Foster suggested. Though 
 perfectly calm, it was evident that she appreciated 
 the wisdom of his advice. 
 
 "And, Miss, if I'se you, I wouldn't go to doing 
 such a foolish thing again," Foster added, even as the 
 girl turned her cayuse to ride away into the 
 night. 
 
 "I won't, if certain gents will keep their promise," 
 she called back, as she slipped into the darkness at 
 the rear of the building. 
 
 "Now who did she mean that for?" Foster asked. 
 
 "For Jumbo, I'm betting," Rangy replied. "For 
 if she ain't the one Jumbo's been talking about all 
 along, I'll be hog-swizzled." 
 
 Rangy broke off because of a volume of noise 
 from within the saloon, which seemed to advertise 
 the fact that Dan Merrill was regaining some of 
 his interest in life. 
 
 "Now wouldn't that be a pleasant little spot to 
 be spending the next few minutes?" Rangy digressed. 
 " Have you got any scruples, Ring'em, about running 
 away from a pack of coyotes like Merrill's got 
 yapping about him now?" 
 
 "No scruples at all about running as far as the 
 Hash Knife. After that we can think it over."
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Shore, it'll be more peaceful like down there 
 for reflection. Dan ain't got any feelings at all for a 
 person who wants to be alone to reflect. He'd most 
 likely wanta blame me because he jerked his head 
 around when I was trying to pat that Duffy boy on 
 the cheek. And he don't sound to be in any fit mood 
 for argument. I got a feeling, Jumbo, that it'd be 
 better for the constitushun if we packed our way 
 down behind the buildings. There's a bunch yapping 
 out in the street now what sounds like they hadn't 
 no judgment at all." 
 
 Rangy led the way behind the row of buildings 
 standing between the Burke saloon and the Hash 
 Knife, but there was no apparent haste in his 
 movements. 
 
 "How about your boys who shot out the lights, 
 Ring'em?" he asked abruptly. "Are they all right, 
 or should we go back?" 
 
 "I told them to clear out for the Hash Knife at 
 once. They will be all right. Nobody shot back, 
 you remember." 
 
 They tramped through a few yards of silence. 
 
 "Shore, I know now what the girl meant when 
 she talked so queer," Rangy reverted to an earlier 
 topic. "She must be the one what Jumbo roped up 
 there in the draw above the Little Forks, and they've 
 got a date somewhere to talk things over. Jumbo 
 didn't keep the date, so she rode into town to get 
 him. Ouch! Ain't you got no better sense, Jumbo,
 
 RANGY PETE 213 
 
 than to go poking a fellow in the ribs in the dark? 
 You might hurt yore knuckles on the butt of my 
 gun." 
 
 "Supposing she is the one I roped, how's that 
 gonna explain how that Flynn person took her place 
 in the night?" Irish demanded. "If I hadn't been 
 such a fool as to go to sleep." 
 
 "I'm thinking, Jumbo, that it shows that you're 
 a perfect gent. You caught the both of them, and 
 you let the girl go, but you'd been better off if you 
 hadn't gone talking about it." 
 
 "I didn't capture no two of them," Jumbo pro- 
 tested. 
 
 "Between you and me, Jumbo, now didn't you? 
 You just consider that Ring'em ain't here." 
 
 "No, I didn't," Jumbo assured angrily. "It hap- 
 pened just like I been telling back there in Burke's. 
 There wasn't no use to lie about it. It's good enough 
 without." 
 
 "Jumping mavericks!" Rangy exclaimed. "There 
 shore is something queer going on back in them 
 buttes." 
 
 By this time they had come opposite the Hash 
 Knife saloon, which occupied a prominent position 
 on the far side of the highway, and which, they could 
 see, had caught some of the excitement so recently 
 prevailing at Tony Burke's. 
 
 Foster was about to lead the way across, when 
 they found that they were being pursued by a faint
 
 214 RANGY PETE 
 
 clanking noise, coming from the direction of Burke's. 
 Rangy turned and stared into the night. 
 
 "It's the Buzzard boy a tryin' to fly in the dark," 
 he pronounced. 
 
 "How you know they call him the Buzzard?" 
 Jumbo Irish demanded suspiciously. "He ain't been 
 tellin' that to nobody but me." 
 
 Rangy continued to gaze into the darkness in the 
 direction of the approaching noise. 
 
 "It shore is the Buzzard," he declared with con- 
 viction, "an* I'd a thought you'd know, Jumbo, 'at 
 everybody knows they's only one Flynn person with 
 the Dervishers. An* did you ever hear of a Flyrin 
 person yet 'at sumbody did'n call Buzzard?" 
 
 Rangy was spared the necessity of f urther elabora- 
 tion by the arrival of the recent captive. Buzzard 
 Flynn approached with an air of haste and confidence. 
 The clanking of the manacles stopped as he came 
 to a halt before Foster. 
 
 "Will one of you gents be good enough to use 
 this key on these wrist irons?" he addressed Foster. 
 "The Sheriff ain't feelin* noways inclined to do it, 
 so I come to you." 
 
 Flynn extended his wrists and grasped in one 
 hand was the key to the cuffs. 
 
 "What makes you think we won't turn you back 
 to the officials at once? " Ring'em Foster asked coldly. 
 
 Flynn chuckled confidently. 
 
 "It ain't five minutes since you put tip a scrap
 
 RANGY PETE 215 
 
 fer one member of the Dervishers, and you shore 
 ain't the kind of gents what'd stand back and let 
 that Snaky Y bunch string up another." 
 
 " Who says we are not? " Foster demanded. " That 
 is just what we are going to do with you, Flynn. 
 The quicker all you bandits are strung up, the better 
 it will be for the county. How'd you get that key? " 
 
 Buzzard Flynn became much subdued. 
 
 "When it got dark I dropped my wrists and they 
 fell on Stipples' head. He did'n get up, so I lays 
 down beside him and picked the key outa his pocket. 
 Then I crawls around behind the bar, and they 
 forgets all about me." 
 
 "Well, we can freshen their memories," Foster 
 declared. "I shouldn't be surprised if the Snaky Y 
 bunch could make a pretty fair job right now of a 
 roping-bee." 
 
 "If they got their hands on you, they'd stretch 
 you out so long you wouldn't never throw another 
 shadow," Flynn returned, with an obvious strain 
 on his courage; "but you ain't the kind of a gent 
 what'd hand me over to the fellers what's lookin' 
 for you." 
 
 Foster did not answer, though he flipped his 
 fingers impatiently. 
 
 " If you'll 'skuse me fer hornin' into the argument, 
 Ring'em, I'll say Buzzard has served a right useful 
 purpose, what I'll be tellin' you about some other 
 time," Rangy put in. "Lernme have the key."
 
 216 RANGY PETE 
 
 As neither Foster nor Irish raised further objec- 
 tions, Rangy unlocked the manacles and threw 
 them aside. 
 
 "Now if one of youse gents '11 slip me a gun, I'll 
 be fightin' on your side." 
 
 "What do you mean?" Foster demanded. 
 
 "Nothin' atoll, 'cept the Snaky Y bunch is organ- 
 izing to come down to the Hash Knife and turn 
 youse all into dead ones fer the coyotes to gnaw. 
 I would'n be surprised if some of them got there 
 afore we do." 
 
 "Then we won't lose any more time," Foster 
 declared, as he led the way down a lane between 
 two buildings which fronted out upon the Hash 
 Knife saloon. "The Triangle O boys aren't lookin' 
 for trouble, but they never could dodge."
 
 CHAPTER Vin 
 
 OPEN friction with the Snaky Y, it became evident, 
 had joined the list of inevitable incidents of the near 
 future. 
 
 Rangy felt that their attack upon Merrill, Sonnes 
 and those two disheartened punchers from the Snaky 
 Y could have but the one result. Some day there 
 must be a vigorous and drastic come-back, for 
 Merrill was not the type to brook public humilia- 
 tion in peace. But whether that retaliation would 
 be face to the front or by devious ways, was a ques- 
 tion which he could not hope to answer. Yet war 
 there must be, whether in the open or along the 
 darkened highways; and it would come tonight, or 
 tomorrow, or some day in the future when Dan 
 Merrill chose to press it. 
 
 For the move was plainly up to Merrill. 
 
 Even with that consciousness, Rangy could fore- 
 see, with a definite trace of uneasiness, just how 
 Merrill could turn the tables against them; and, if 
 he retained any measure of judgment, how he could 
 swing the whole forces of the law into his balance. 
 
 In this moment, while he strode across the dusty 
 highway to the Hash Knife saloon, it was plain to 
 
 217
 
 218 RANGY PETE 
 
 Rangy Pete that they had trifled with the workings 
 of the law, and that Merrill, if he were wise, would 
 play upon it to the full. 
 
 "Somebody coming now!" Ring'em Foster spoke 
 calmly, as he indicated a lone rider dashing swiftly 
 down the highway from the Burke saloon. " Buzzard 
 Flynn must have had the wrong tip, for this fellow 
 is alone." 
 
 At the side of Foster Rangy walked into the Hash 
 Knife and paused just inside the doorway. The 
 lone courier was Dexter of the Snaky Y. 
 
 Just outside the door, clustered about, and look- 
 ing into the future with incurious eyes, were tlu> 
 riders of the Triangle O. 
 
 Dexter dashed into their midst with an aplomb 
 and daring not ill-pleasing to one who admired 
 courage and who recognized the danger of playing 
 thus upon the hair-trigger temperaments of the men 
 he faced. 
 
 "In the name of Dan Merrill, I demand the sur- 
 render of Ring'em Foster, Rangy Pete and Jumbo 
 Irish," he proclaimed in a loud voice, with his eyes 
 fixed firmly upon a lanky puncher who went by the 
 name of Kyne and who was recognized as Foster's 
 right-hand man. 
 
 Kyne shrugged his shoulders indifferently. 
 
 "Never heard of any such gents," he replied with 
 voice as careless as his manner. "You musta got a 
 wrong idea about something, Mr. Dexter."
 
 RANGY PETE 219 
 
 The rider's sun-tanned features flushed a darker 
 shade, for Kyne's answer, polite as it was, carried 
 its own message of insolence. 
 
 "When we come down here with a posse, it'll 
 shore switch your memory around a whole lot," 
 Dexter flamed angrily. 
 
 "I'm hearing you been exercising that posse a 
 bit of late." Still there was politeness in Kyne's 
 tones; and Dexter, with even more hostile attitude, 
 began to back his horse away from the vicinity of 
 the Hash Knife. 
 
 That act, in itself, was more insolent than had 
 been Kyne's smooth manner, for back of it was the 
 implication that he dare not trust the breadth of 
 his shoulders to the triggers of the Triangle O. 
 
 Dexter was still acting out his overt insult when 
 Foster stepped suddenly through the doorway and 
 pressed his way through the punchers to the center 
 of the highway. 
 
 "Hello, Dexter," he grinned. "Don't be surprised 
 to see me. And I want you to believe that Kynei.is 
 right. He doesn't know me in this affair tonight. 
 Neither does any of the other Triangle O punchers. 
 Me and persons called Rangy Pete and Jumbo Irish 
 are little boys out all alone at night; so you go back 
 and tell an individual by the name of Dan Merrill 
 that there's just the three of us here - 
 
 Foster paused long enough to study Dexter more 
 seriously through a moment of silence.
 
 220 .RANGY PETE 
 
 "And you can tell him too, Dexter, that the 
 same three gents will walk halfway up the road to 
 Tony Burke's joint, and they'll be expecting to meet 
 Merrill and some two other gents coming down the 
 other way with their guns unlimbered. Got it right, 
 Dexter?" 
 
 Evidently Dexter believed' he understood the 
 challenge, for without a word in reply he swung his 
 mount about and dashed away in the direction of 
 the Snaky Y forces. 
 
 Rangy Pete began to overhaul the mechanism of 
 his six-gun. The challenge foreshadowed but the 
 one thing a sextette battle in the open roadway. 
 Such an incident, while forcing a swifter crisis than 
 he had pictured, would sweep away once for all the 
 menace of Dan Merrill; and while the urge was strong 
 upon him that he must see Miss Dick once more, 
 there was the abrupt conviction that this would be 
 the better way out. 
 
 "Ready, Rangy?" Foster's voice was as calm as 
 though he were but superintending the most trivial 
 routine of a day's work. "All right. Kyne, take 
 Harrigan, and one of you slip up reach side of the 
 street to see if they are getting any rough work ready. 
 Throw the regular signal if they start anything 
 crooked." 
 
 A roar of cheers echoed through the fever #f 
 Triple Butte's restless dreams as Foster, Rangy 
 and Irish took to the center of the roadway, spread
 
 RANGY PETE 221 
 
 out a few yards apart, and began their slow tramp in 
 the direction of the Mansion House. 
 
 Curious idlers watched them go, with a thrill of 
 excitement in their veins. 
 
 "Remember," Foster cautioned, "Merrill is my 
 man, Rangy can have Sonnes, and Irish, you take 
 the rest." 
 
 The three punchers tramped down the highway 
 of Triple Butte, watching closely for the least sign 
 of movement from the vicinity of the Burke saloon. 
 As they drew nearer the quarter mark, it became 
 apparent that there was a cluster of men in front of 
 the Mansion House and that there were others in 
 the shadows of the buildings even closer. There 
 were still others across the roadway, in front of the 
 Collander store and corral, and there was one 
 mounted man, probably Dexter, in the center of the 
 street. 
 
 Dexter, it appeared, had lost interest, for his back 
 was towards the advancing three and he appeared 
 to be haranguing a group of punchers farther up the 
 street. Foster, Rangy and Jumbo Irish tramped on. 
 
 They reached the quarter mark without rousing 
 any special display of curiosity from the Snaky Y. 
 
 They reached one-third of the distance to the 
 Burke saloon, when Dexter suddenly swung about 
 on his cayuse, shook his fist in the direction of 
 Burke's and then spurred rapidly up the trail 
 towards the Snaky Y.
 
 222 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Shorely he ain't gone to get that Chink cook 
 what doses up the grub at the Snaky Y," Rangy 
 remarked. "Shorely we ain't gonna have to fight 
 the Chink army too, Ring'em. I'm hearin' that 
 Chink ain't afraid of nobody what he can sneak up 
 unto in the dark 
 
 "Somebody coming," Foster broke into Rangy 's 
 cheer. "Looks like Merrill." 
 
 Even as Foster spoke, a man walked quickly 
 from the group in front of Burke's and started in 
 then* direction. 
 
 "You allus did have all the luck," Rangy went 
 on, "fer if it's Merrill, he's alone. An' I shorely 
 would admire to see sumbody a stirrin' up the dust 
 along beside him." 
 
 They reached the half-way mark and stopped 
 still in the highway, with the lone figure tramping 
 down upon them, his identity concealed in the 
 murky shadows of the street. 
 
 While still a hundred yards distant, his right 
 hand shot into the air with the signal of peace. 
 
 "The luck's broke!" Rangy exclaimed disgustedly. 
 "That ain't anybody but old boy Stipples waving 
 the white flag." 
 
 "Guess you're right," Foster conceded, in the same 
 tones. " This way, Sheriff, and show a little more life." 
 
 Thus admonished and knowing himself recognized, 
 Stipples dropped his upraised arm and hurried in 
 the direction of the three.
 
 RANGY PETE 223 
 
 As he drew nearer it became apparent that Stipples 
 had a bandage about his head, as evidence of the 
 sincerity of Buzzard Flynn's work. 
 
 "You gents is all under arrest," he proclaimed 
 at once, and in a peevish manner. 
 
 "My hearing ain't none too good of late, Stipples," 
 Ring'em Foster replied. "Who did you say you're 
 wanting us to arrest for you?" 
 
 "I'm saying you're under arrest. You you!" 
 Stipples declared, as he tapped Foster upon the 
 chest. 
 
 "Don't go letting him tap you thattaway, 
 Ring'em," Rangy broke in gravely. "I wouldn't 
 be a bit surprised if he's got the idea now that he's 
 a sawbones, ' he's trying to see if you've got the 
 con. There ain't any use, Stipples, tapping Ring'em 
 on the chest, for he's sound all the way through, 
 right down to the finger tips. If I was you, Mr. 
 Sheriff, I wouldn't go to talking any more about 
 arresting innocent folks what go out walking at 
 night. It's most apt to make them peevish. Suppose 
 now, Stipples, you revise yore statement to Mr. 
 Foster and say that you're gonna arrest him tomor- 
 row. That'll sound a hull lot less peevish." 
 
 Sheriff Stipples eyed the three for a brief space 
 of time; then he allowed his glance to travel on, to 
 the area in front of the Hash Knife where the 
 Triangle O punchers were in massed formation. 
 
 "All right, Foster, if yer hangin' around Triple
 
 224 RANGY PETE 
 
 Butte tomorrow I'll put you under arrest. You 
 can't say I haven't given you fair warnin'," Stipples 
 conceded. 
 
 "What's that he's been a sayin', Rangy?" Foster 
 asked. "His words sound all mixed up to me." 
 
 "He says," Rangy raised his voice, " 'at he's 
 gonna take the night practicin' how to knock on 
 the pearly gate an' golden, an' then tomorrer he's 
 comin' round to see you." 
 
 "He ain't told us yet what it's all about," Foster 
 returned. 
 
 "I'm gonna arrest sumbody fer lettin' that 
 Buzzard Flynn get away," Stipples shouted through 
 his anger. "He whacked me over the head, an' he's 
 gonna find out- 
 
 Jumbo Irish stepped forward with a display of 
 interest and shook a fist in front of Stipples' face. 
 
 "You ain't gonna tell me 'at you've gone an* 
 let that Flynn get away?" he demanded, with 
 much evidence of concern. "You ain't gonna tell 
 me 'at, be you, Mr. Sheriff, me what spent a hull 
 day and night a traipsin' around huntin' fer him - 
 
 "He got away," Stipples admitted. 
 
 "An* who let him get away? " Irish demanded. 
 "Ain't they no sheriff nor nothin* in this town? 
 Who's lookin' after him when he got away? They's 
 a lot of things, Stipples, I wanta know." 
 
 "You mean to say you fellows didn't help Flynn 
 escape when you made that row over the woman?"
 
 RANGY PETE 225 
 
 Stipples asked in much milder tone, and apparently 
 quite ready to see the avenue to peace. 
 
 The injured innocence on the faces of the three 
 men seemed sufficient answer. 
 
 "You been letting him go yoreself?" Irish asked 
 suspiciously. " You trying to get out of that twenty- 
 five dollar reward what's promised to anybody who 
 catches highwaymen?" 
 
 Stipples' features began to writhe in an unpleasant 
 way. 
 
 "Honest to goodness, no!" he exclaimed. "That 
 man got away during the row " 
 
 "Then you pay me right now," Irish insisted, 
 "because mabbe, after you been playing with 
 Ring'em tomorrow you won't be able to remember 
 anything at all. Rangy, ain't he got to pay me 
 that reward now?" 
 
 For a moment Rangy Pete considered. 
 
 "Sounds right, Jumbo," he concluded. "They 
 ain't no man should figure on what Stipples is 
 talking about without squaring his debts before he 
 goes. It's your move, Mr. Sheriff." 
 
 Quite plainly, Stipples was caught between the 
 conflict of emotions; but in the end discretion 
 seemed to prevail. 
 
 "This is a high-handed piece of work," he pro- 
 tested. "Perhaps I'll have to pay. But I don't 
 know which is the worst, you or the road agents." 
 
 "Them is crool words," Rangy complained, with
 
 226 RANGY PETE 
 
 the old slur in his tones, as Stipples drew a package 
 of bills from his pocket, "but I ain't got no hard 
 feelin's agin you fer hard words, Mr. Sheriff. You've 
 made me so meek an' mild with crool words 'at I'm 
 a gonna let you pay Jumbo a li'l matter of fifty 
 yellow boys what I owes him on a bet. You know 
 all about that - 
 
 While he spoke, Rangy Pete quietly lifted the 
 bills from Stipples' fingers and began to count out 
 the required amount. 
 
 "Of all the highwaymen I ever met- " Stipples 
 began, but Rangy again interrupted. 
 
 "You somehow don't look at things with the 
 right eye tonight. I'm guessin' mabbe it's 'at crack 
 on the head what the Buzzard give you. I'm jo I 
 a lettin' you lend me these yellow boys what I'm 
 givin' to Jumbo on the bet, an' you got two right 
 nice witnesses what'll allus say I borrowed an' can't 
 never back out from payin' you. Ain't that right, 
 boys?" 
 
 Irish and Foster assured him that it was. 
 
 " 'Sides," Rangy continued, "youse forgettin', 
 Mr. Stipples, 'at the long journey what yer a thinkin' 
 about takin' tomorrer ain't the kind what nobody 
 ever wants no yellow boys on. Thinkin' about yore 
 journey has made me kinda full of sentiments, 
 Mr. Sheriff. It's gettin 'me that soft-hearted I'm 
 a gonna give you back five of Jumbo's yellow boys. 
 That's all right, Jumbo, they come outa the reward,
 
 RANGY PETE 2*7 
 
 an' you otta know sumbody's gotta pay Mr. Stipples 
 fer them handcuffs what the Buzzard stole on 
 him. Shore, Jumbo, you mayn't like it now, but 
 tomorrer, when Mr. Stipples has started on his long 
 journey, you'll be kinda wipin' yore eyes an' pattin' 
 yourself all over to think you was so nice to him 
 when he was with us." 
 
 "You're a high-handed scoundrel!" Stipples pro- 
 claimed, with a concomitance of oaths. 
 
 "We shouldn't be wasting time on nice words," 
 Rangy broke in. "What we want to know is this 
 is little Danny Merrill and Billy Sonnes coming 
 out to play with us?" 
 
 "No, 'cause you got them buffaloed Stipples 
 declared angrily; then hastily he revised his view- 
 point. "I mean, for the sake of peace, I wouldn't 
 let them come. If it was just a matter between you 
 people, two and two, it wouldn't matter much; but 
 if Merrill and Sonnes had come down here to meet 
 you tonight we would have had the whole of Triple 
 Butte and three gangs of punchers mixed up in a 
 war before the week was out. I couldn't let that 
 go on. You know that, Rangy?" 
 
 ! 'Course you couldn't. We all know that, 
 Stipples, for it might have been most nigh as 
 onhealthy as trying to ride Ring'em outa town 
 tomorrow. If I was Dan Merrill, I wouldn't noways 
 object to hiring you to ride along beside me to 
 point out them onhealthy things."
 
 228 RANGY PETE 
 
 Stipples flared in reply. 
 
 "Don't get the idea that Merrill is backing 
 down," he protested. "He says the first time you 
 two meet up, you're gonna get plugged good and 
 hard. The same goes for Foster and Irish." 
 
 "There ain't anything there to get sorrowful 
 about," Rangy assured. "When Dan's flocking 
 about with the herd, he's gonna get us when he's 
 alone; and when he's alone he's gonna get us when 
 he's flocking with the herd." 
 
 "What he means is that when Merrill is riding 
 herd, and you are alone, he'll get you then," Foster 
 suggested. 
 
 Rangy nodded reflectively. 
 
 "Then inabbe we'd better go up to Burke's and get 
 him now," he decided. " What do you say, Ring'em? " 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, get out of here," Stipples 
 pleaded. "If you go up there, half the town'll be 
 shot up before morning. Now go away, like good 
 fellows, and slope it out of town." 
 
 At this point Rangy Pete developed symptoms 
 of peevishness. 
 
 "I ain't going anywhere unless you say I ain't 
 a highwayman," he affirmed with outward obstinacy. 
 "It's cruel words you been using, Mr. Sheriff; and 
 if we got the Snaky Y buffaloed, Ring'em, there 
 ain't no time like the present to go up and finish 
 the job. Suppose you whissel to Kyne and get a 
 hah* dozen of your best men -
 
 RANGY PETE 229 
 
 "For God's sake, don't do that!" Stipples pro- 
 tested. "You know I didn't mean a word of what 
 I said about you. I was sore at Merrill, that's all. 
 You're perfectly welcome to that money you bor- 
 rowed, and you know it. Now be good fellows and 
 slip outa town during the night. And if they's 
 anything else yer needin' - 
 
 "They shore is," Rangy gave an abrupt display 
 of docility. "Let's go back to the Hash Knife, 
 fellers, fer they ain't no use standin' here while 
 them folks' eyes is gettin' better." 
 
 The four immediately turned towards the Hash 
 Knife saloon, and Stipples' relief was so great that 
 he could not completely conceal it in his manner. 
 
 "It's right nice of you, Sheriff, to go makin' an 
 offer thattaway," Rangy resumed the conversation. 
 "I'll ride outa town right away, but I can't go 
 'thout I got some things along. They's my li'l yeller 
 cayuse up behind Ike Collander's corral. That 
 weren't no place atoll fer me to leave cayuse, 'cause 
 I don't s'pose Dan's got more'n three punchers 
 waitin' to bushwhack me when I go after yellow 
 boy. Dan's shootin' eye is closed, but you don't 
 hafta see much to go bushwhackin' a feller 
 
 "I'll go and get your horse," Stipples hastened 
 to offer. 
 
 "That's right nice of you, Sheriff, to go urgin' 
 me to stay thattaway. But a person an' a cayuse 
 can't live nohow on nothin' to eat "
 
 230 RANGY PETE 
 
 "I'll make up a parcel of stuff in Collander's and 
 bring it down here to you," Stipples was still willing 
 to speed the departing Pete. 
 
 "You won't go tellin' Ike nothin about it?" 
 Rangy showed signs of anxiety, "fer Ike's got a big 
 job he's been wantin' me to do. He would'n like 
 it nohow if he thought I's goin' away, an' he most 
 mabbe would'n let you have the stuff, an* then I 
 could'n go - 
 
 "I'll slip in the back way and help myself," 
 Stipples assured. "What do you need? If you're 
 takin' a long trip, you better have a lot of stuff." 
 
 "Yer so nice, yer gonna have me bustin' out a 
 weepin* on yore shoulder," Rangy replied, "but 
 don't make it so big that it'll be oncomfortable to 
 carry. You might bring a bit of bacon, an' coffee, 
 an' sugar, an' flour, an' you know, the rest of the 
 stuff an', I was most nigh forgettin' yeller boy. 
 You bring a box of 'vaporated apples fer me to feed 
 cayuse. They's one box what Ike won't noways 
 mind losin' atoll. It's got some red paint on it, an' 
 they's some paint run into the apples. They'll do 
 yeller boy fine. It's funny, Sheriff, how yeller cayuse 
 does like 'em 'vaporated apples and don't you 
 go to forgettin' 'em." 
 
 The last of Rangy 's instructions was delivered 
 in an elevated voice, due to the fact that Sheriff 
 Stipples was determined to reduce to the minimum 
 the possibility of Rangy Pete arriving at a contrary
 
 RANGY PETE 231 
 
 decision. At the Hash Knife, Stipples slipped into 
 the darkened area by the corral and was immediately 
 lost to sight. 
 
 " There goes one clawin' wildcat," Rangy reflected. 
 "Don't you ever go to gettin' him sore at you, 
 Ring'em - 
 
 The balance of Rangy's advice was drowned out 
 in the welcome which greeted them from the Hash 
 Knife saloon. 
 
 After explanations had been made and the Snaky Y 
 had failed to rise in the barometer o the Triangle O's 
 esteem, there was free discussion as to what should 
 be the next step. Ring'em Foster ruled for peace. 
 
 "You looking for a job?" Foster turned to Rangy 
 Pete. "It seems we're needin' an extra man down 
 at the Triangle." 
 
 The suggestion was greeted with a round of cheers 
 from the Triangle O boys, but Jumbo Irish took up 
 the reply while Rangy was still grinning at the group 
 of punchers. 1 
 
 "Mabbe so," Jumbo declared, "but the Triangle O 
 ain't needin' him noways as much as the Double K. 
 Ole Calvin Bracken sent me out two days ago to 
 bring Rangy in, an' if he herds up anywhere, it's 
 gonna be at the Double K." 
 
 " I'm thinkin' Jumbo ain't far out in his reckonin'," 
 Rangy assured. "I would'n be s'prised if me an* 
 Calvin talked things over right peaceable." 
 
 "And I wouldn't be surprised if Stipples brought
 
 232 RANGY PETE 
 
 you enough grub to get you farther than the Double 
 K," Foster laughed. "He seemed keen to enjoy 
 your absence." 
 
 "Yeah, funny boy that," Rangy agreed. "I would'n 
 wonder if he had the idea 'at I hadda keep on 
 movin' till I eat up all the grub he brings me." 
 
 When Sheriff Stipples appeared a few minutes 
 later, it became evident that Ring'em Foster was 
 right. Judging from the way in which Rangy's 
 saddle-bags were bulging, and from the size of the 
 package strapped across the front of the saddle, 
 Stipples was not taking any chances that Rangy Pete 
 would soon run out of fodder and be forced back to 
 Triple Butte. 
 
 Rangy looked the supplies over critically. 
 
 "You shore got a kind an' lovin' heart," Rangy 
 pronounced when his inspection was finished. " S'far 
 as I can see, you ain't left me a single reason fer 
 hangin' around, an' that's real friendly like. I guess 
 I'd better be danglin' along." 
 
 Rangy Pete mounted, gathered up the reins, and 
 from his elevated position addressed the Sheriff. 
 
 "You otta know, Stipples, 'at Ike Collander's a 
 queer kind of a boy. He's got them strange ideas 
 what's gonna make him say 'at these goods has been 
 stole. An' if it should ever get talked about, they's 
 two-three of us can say who done the stealin'. They's 
 some people foolish enough to get peevish when 
 their Sheriff sets out to steal, but I ain't that kind.
 
 RANGY PETE 233 
 
 I ain't noways particular, an' neither is Jumbo nor 
 Ring'em. All we asks is that people lets us alone. 
 You gonna try to run Ring'em outa town tomorrer, 
 Mr. Stipples?" 
 
 "Don't worry him over a small matter," Foster 
 interposed. "Before morning comes there won't be 
 a single Triangle O boy within sight of Triple Butte." 
 
 "Thank Heaven for that," Stipples returned 
 devoutly. 
 
 "That shore is a right good tip to you, Stipples," 
 Ranger suggested. "If I's you, I'd run right back to 
 Tony Burke's now an' pass the word around that 
 if they's any Triangle O punchers in town tomorrer 
 yer gonna make crow meat out of 'em. You jest 
 chirp as loud as you like. An' if you wanta do the 
 thing right, you'll get a posse all ready tonight, an' 
 you'll be plumb set on bein' the one to lead it in the 
 mornin'." 
 
 "I'll do it," Stipples declared, with an attempt 
 to accept the suggestion humorously. Then he 
 turned and made his way back towards the Mansion 
 House. 
 
 "He sure will do it," Foster reflected, "and 
 wouldn't it be one nice little joke if the Triangle O 
 boys stayed around to watch the Sheriff throw 
 them out?" 
 
 "Don't you go to doin' nothin' like that," Rangy 
 protested, "fer if you do, I gotta stay too, an' I can't 
 stay,"
 
 234 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Now that you have made your position so clear, 
 we will vanish before morning," Foster agreed. " And 
 remember, if you should ever want that job, the 
 Triangle O is always one man short." 
 
 "But not so short as the Double K," Rangy threw 
 back, as he urged his cayuse into activity. "An' 
 don't you forget to ride along and blind my trail." 
 
 A moment later Rangy Pete was riding briskly 
 down the trail which led away from Triple Butte 
 in the direction of the Double K, and he was quite 
 indifferent to the fact that his departure had roused 
 curiosity in the brains of Jumbo Irish and Ring'em 
 Foster. 
 
 He was likewise indifferent to the fact that Dan 
 Merrill, having retreated with Sonnes to an inner 
 room of the Burke establishment, was lashing his 
 brain and that of his companion to find the surest 
 and swiftest punishment for the offenders of the 
 night. 
 
 For a tune through that scene Sonnes leered 
 savagely under the prodding of Dan Merrill, listening 
 to the scorn of his employer's outburst. Then he 
 sprang to his feet and went to stand over Merrill. 
 
 "We got to get them split up," he declared, in 
 tones which matched his leering. "We split 'em up, 
 Rough House, and we pick 'em off one at a time 
 
 "Yeah!" Merrill sneered, "it's the only way you 
 can pick anything off. How're you going to do it?" 
 
 Sonnes' lips parted still more savagely.
 
 RANGY PETE 235 
 
 "Leave it to me, Rough House," he gloated. "As 
 long as there's an Ike Collander in town, I'm thinking 
 there's screws we can put on to get Rangy back. 
 Then when he walks into the trap - 
 
 "Sure thing," Merrill showed an abrupt interest. 
 "You ain't so bad after all, Bill. But don't go 
 wasting any time. We'll set one of the punchers 
 to bushwhack that Irish person, and I'd sort of like 
 to settle with Foster myself - 
 
 "You mean by skipping out and not paying any 
 of your debts?" Sonnes leered. 
 
 Merrill's reply was an attempt at a grin which 
 only succeeded in betraying its viciousness.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 BEYOND all human doubt, the die now had been 
 plainly cast. 
 
 It was to be war from this moment with the 
 Snaky Y if he could dignify his lonely stand by 
 such an impressive term. 
 
 Rangy Pete recognized that, as he rode through 
 the mellowness of the night, with its silence and its 
 cleanness all about him. He knew it to be an indis- 
 putable fact when he looked across the ranges and 
 saw, far away, peering through the rim of haze lining 
 the eastern horizon, the oval moon stealing out to 
 inspect the vastness of the world. 
 
 In an hour or two, the glow of the moon would 
 be like a vast silvery blanket spread over the leagues 
 of plain, a whitened sheen throwing out in relief 
 the shadows of all living things and picking him 
 out for the eyes of his enemies. 
 
 War, undoubted war, if he could regard as war 
 this dignified retreat of his before the inevitable 
 attack of the Snaky Y. But somehow or other the 
 uncertainty of his own future seemed an insignificant 
 thing compared with the fact that out here in the 
 chaparral was Miss Dick, who sooner or later must 
 assuredly be rounded up by the angered troops of 
 
 236
 
 RANGY PETE 237 
 
 Dan Merrill, unless in some way or other he could 
 overcome her strange whims and send her back to 
 those forest retreats beyond the butte lands. 
 
 That was the immediate work which lay before 
 him. 
 
 Except for that, he might, at this instant, be 
 riding or camping with the Triangle O, secure among 
 their numbers; but that thought was only a flitting 
 thing which came and vanished almost before it 
 was born, and which had no place whatever among 
 the strange visions which he was picturing among 
 the thinning shadows of the moonlight. 
 
 That moonlight was such a fascinating thing, and 
 yet so treacherous. 
 
 Shortly, he knew, it would reach out and lay the 
 grip of its tiny fingers upon the ranges until it drew 
 before the eye a picture which touched the heart; 
 until it played with its mellowness and its sadness 
 upon the strings of man's emotions and reached 
 down into the dark, still corners which are the 
 unknown pages of life. 
 
 Rangy Pete drew his cayuse to a halt and sat 
 quite still, looking at the rising arc of the oval moon. 
 He was a plainsman, every last inch of him which 
 was not a mountaineer; and because of that he had 
 ridden out many a mystic night under just such a 
 glimmering moon as this would shortly be, nights 
 which had spoken to him with their strange and 
 inexplicable sentiments, nights which tugged at the
 
 23S RANGY PETE 
 
 heart and whispered queer, old, forgotten messages 
 about the sweet of life which must lie somewhere 
 beyond the surface. 
 
 There was a loneliness in that vista of world 
 stretching off there before the eye; and as he recog- 
 nized its message Rangy Pete was wondering. Off 
 there in the chaparral was a girl. Would she, like 
 himself, find that in the mysterious moonlight of 
 the plains there is a spirit which draws human beings 
 closer together? 
 
 A shadow riding off there before his eyes, across 
 the open stretch of moon-flecked range! 
 
 Already the Snaky Y were on the hunt. Three 
 horsemen now, riding upon some quest of which he 
 and Miss Dick were the backbone! 
 
 Presently they plunged across the open space into 
 the shadows, and as Rangy shook the cay use's reins 
 briskly and rode into the night through another 
 circling of shadows, he wondered just how many 
 like clusters of horsemen there would be scattered 
 about, infesting the trails which Miss Dick must 
 ride before she once more found the secluded safety 
 of those forested hills beyond the Pass. 
 
 Slowly he picked his way through the shadows, 
 with his every faculty alert. 
 
 Rangy knew well enough the tactics of the plains- 
 men to know at the same time the danger which lay 
 before him. As he viewed it now, the menace was 
 more immediate than remote.
 
 RANGY PETE 239 
 
 Two more horsemen flitting out of the shadows 
 of the chaparral, across the open range land, and 
 into the south! He was close enough this time to 
 hear the rattle of their spurs, to see the poise of their 
 heads, and to know from the set of the bodies that 
 they were bound upon some definite mission which 
 might take hours to fulfill. 
 
 It was all plain to him now. Stipples, seemingly 
 docile, had been sufficiently dangerous to tell of that 
 recent outfitting upon the highway of Triple Butte; 
 and Merrill's brain, befuddled though it was with 
 liquor, had been quick enough to see that Rangy 
 Pete would be riding alone, unsheltered by the wing 
 of the Triangle O. 
 
 So Merrill was throwing swift groups of riders 
 into the south, to block the trails and the openings 
 to the butte lands. Already the search was on 
 for him yes, and for Miss Dick as well! 
 
 Rangy held the cayuse in the thicker shadows 
 until that pair of riders was lost to sight in the shifting 
 moonlight. Then he laughed softly to himself. 
 
 The danger was more immediate than remote. 
 Merrill, swift of brain even through the fumes of 
 his liquor, evidently was a one-idea man. He had 
 seemed to think that when Rangy rode into the 
 south he meant to keep on riding that way. He 
 knew nothing whatever about this trysting place 
 with Miss Dick, to the east of Triple Butte, in which 
 direction Rangy was now riding.
 
 240 RANGY PETE 
 
 Assuredly Dan Merrill was a one-idea man, or he 
 would have blocked the trails to the north as well 
 as those to the south, the trails to the Snaky Y as 
 well as those to the Double K and the Triangle O. 
 Yet Merrill's imagination probably did not conceive 
 of the fugitives having the daring to ride in the 
 direction of his own brief kingdom. 
 
 So Rangy Pete, circling far to the east, rode more 
 swiftly and confidently. A third party of riders he 
 sighted, but they were to the south and seemingly 
 far away. 
 
 This time he rode forward with a laugh upon his 
 lips. Let them search to the south and the west, 
 while he rode to the north and east. A chance rider 
 might see him now, but beyond that the danger had 
 suddenly switched from the immediate to the remote. 
 Tomorrow it might be different, if any rider proved 
 keen enough to follow his trail; but for tonight there 
 lay before him only the thrill of this new meeting 
 with Miss Dick. And it was a thrill, even in its 
 promise. 
 
 He was acutely conscious of that promise as he 
 watched the growing strength of the moonbeams. 
 There was a certain amount of similarity between 
 Miss Dick and the moonlight, a likeness in their 
 elusiveness; there was the same fascination of the 
 unknown. There was the same tinge in the girl's 
 hair that he had sometimes caught in the glitter of 
 the moon upon the sands of the range hills at night;
 
 RANGY PETE 241 
 
 there was the same whispering lure which forever 
 beckons man into new deeds, whether of daring, or 
 folly, or wisdom. 
 
 From that moment, secure in the precipitate 
 actions of the Snaky Y, Rangy rode directly to the 
 chaparral where Miss Dick must be waiting for 
 him, if that last message thrown out by the side of 
 the Burke saloon had been meant for him. Up to 
 this instant the point had barely touched Rangy's 
 brain at all. He had taken it instantly for granted 
 that Miss Dick, while speaking evasively, had been 
 giving to him a definite message that she would 
 wait for him here in the chaparral; yet now, when 
 he thought of the time which had been consumed 
 and of the fluctuating moods of the girl, Rangy felt 
 a fever of anxiety sweeping over him. Suppose she 
 had ridden on; what then? Shortly the anxiety 
 slipped from him; for the future seemed such a clear 
 thing, distinctly limned against the incidents of the 
 past. There would be nothing left for him but to 
 ride upon her trail, to follow her through the days 
 and the nights, even into the forested hills and 
 valleys beyond the butte lands. The thought of 
 that was a pleasing thing. In some strange manner 
 it seemed to draw him even closer to the girl of his 
 imagination. She was an outcast, made such by 
 some strange whim of fate; while he, in the past 
 few hours, had likewise become an outcast, sought 
 by a score or more of punchers, perhaps even by the
 
 242 RANGY PETE 
 
 citizens of Triple Butte, because he had given his 
 blind service to her cause. So whether or not Miss 
 Dick was awaiting him here in the chaparral, they 
 had been drawn closer together by chance, and it 
 would be quite the fitting thing that he should 
 follow her into the land of the Dervishers. 
 
 That thought, pleasing as it was, was still upon 
 him, when he came to the edge of the chaparral and 
 began to peer into the depths of its shadows. 
 
 "I see you have the box of evaporated apples," 
 a calm voice greeted him evenly, so naturally that 
 he wondered why he had ever doubted. "I don't 
 know how you ever did it, Mr. Rangy Pete, but I'll 
 say it was good work." 
 
 "Nothing at all, Miss; nothing at all," he mumbled 
 hastily. 
 
 "And I am going to agree with you that Triple 
 Butte, when it wakes up, isn't a healthy place to 
 be in," the girl went on, as though unconscious of 
 his interruption. "I suppose they have put a price 
 on my head by this time?" 
 
 "They couldn't put no price on that, Miss," 
 Rangy bantered. 
 
 For a time the girl remained silent, but it was 
 plain that her attitude had become severe. 
 
 "Suppose you lift me down that box of apples," 
 she digressed in the end. "After that, the world is 
 wide. You can choose which way you go." 
 
 Rangy Pete grinned through the moonlight.
 
 RANGY PETE 243 
 
 "You're a queer one, ain't you, Miss?" he asked, 
 as he placed both hands firmly upon the box resting 
 upon the saddle-horns. "The world shore is wide. 
 It's too wide for a little person like you, and that's 
 the reason I don't hanker to be riding away with- 
 out knowing something about you. The world shore 
 is wide, Miss; so wide that if you rode one way and 
 I rode the other and kept on picking our way through 
 the moonlight till morning, there ain't any guarantee 
 that we'd ever meet up again." 
 
 " I imagine there must be some meaning to that if 
 I only had the time to figure it out," Miss Dick 
 reflected, "but I have already seen one or two posses 
 riding by." 
 
 "I mean I wouldn't object to knowing how to find 
 your front doorbell when there's something special 
 to say to you." Rangy became more courageous. 
 
 "Say it now," Miss Dick suggested. 
 
 "I ain't thought of it yet," Rangy grinned, "and 
 I won't be able to think of it till after you're gone." 
 
 "I see. Strained politeness. You are trying to 
 flay that you want to know where you could find me. 
 Why didn't you say it in the first place? Here, take 
 this." 
 
 With that, Miss Dick extended to Rangy Pete a 
 whitish something which looked like a folded paper. 
 Rangy took it and found that it was a small envelope, 
 sealed. He was about to open it when Miss Dick 
 held up a restraining hand.
 
 244 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Now, the evaporated apples," she spoke crisply. 
 "I must be miles away from here before daylight." 
 
 The casual manner in which she concluded that 
 their ways were to part at this point left Rangy 
 slightly nonplussed. He remained silent while she 
 went through certain routine and while she mounted 
 briskly. 
 
 At length she urged her cayuse a few steps forward, 
 out into the fuller glitter of the moonlight. She swept 
 off her sombrero and she turned her head so that 
 the moon rays fell clean and unbroken upon her 
 bared face. In that moment Rangy could see that 
 the oval of the girl's chin and cheeks reached up to 
 embrace the rest of her features; he could see that 
 the full face was oval and young and wistful, that 
 the eyes were wide and of a shaded blue which he 
 could not read through the uncertain light, and that, 
 unless the softening touch of the moon had painted 
 a false picture before his eyes, she was youthful and 
 her body was filled with the wine of life. 
 
 But though the girl was youthful, it was this 
 sudden mood of wistfulness which touched Rangy 
 Pete. He did not stop to ask himself if this mood 
 were real or assumed. He knew only that he felt a 
 sudden desire to do or say something which would 
 bring a smile to her lips; but he found himself sur- 
 prisingly unequal to the task. 
 
 Abruptly she turned to face him. 
 
 "Good-bye, Rangy Pete." She spoke softly,
 
 RANGY PETE 245 
 
 almost with lingering notes in her voice. "Forget 
 that our paths have crossed." 
 
 With that she rode across a narrow space of 
 moonlight, then* suddenly swept into the shadows 
 of the north. 
 
 Rangy Pete stood with bared head before the 
 moonlight. The only sound was the distant, unplace- 
 able murmur of the plains, a whispering echo which 
 spoke of vast solitudes, which told of the weariness 
 and loneliness of life. There was a haunting some- 
 thing in the soundless echoes of the solitudes, in the 
 loneliness of the moon upon the plains, which made 
 Rangy wonder at his own actions. Beyond doubt 
 Miss Dick was a brigand, a member of the Dervishers. 
 Why should he give to her memory a single thought? 
 
 Rangy mounted slowly, and he turned the cay use's 
 face to the south. Then, with barely a conscious 
 effort, as though in response to the magnetic lure 
 of some power which had gripped his senses, he 
 turned the mount's nose again to the north, towards 
 those elusive shadows into which the girl had ridden. 
 For a long time he sat there, peering into the vague- 
 ness of shadow land, almost as though he hoped this 
 memory of Miss Dick would materialize into physical 
 form and greet him again with its living voice. 
 
 How silent and pulseless the world had become! 
 Only this one vast beating heart of the universe 
 about him now, whispering in his wondering ears 
 its strange mockeries. Only the silence of a/fnight
 
 246 RANGY PETE 
 
 so poignant as to be like the far-off echo of a living 
 voice, a vast, incomprehensible monument of nature 
 which would live forever with this shimmer of the 
 moon thrown over it, a taunt to the littleness of 
 man and to the pettiness of his devotions! Silence 
 everywhere upon the ranges; patches of moon- 
 flecked chaparral and plains as far as the eye could 
 reach, with the silver veil of night wrapping it all 
 in its own mystery. 
 
 The grip of it all was tugging at the man's heart; 
 it was pouring into the submerged chambers of the 
 soul the old message that in the flitting of life one 
 should take the prizes which meet the hand; it was 
 toying with skilful fingers over the strings of emo- 
 tions; it was whispering that life is a glory only when 
 man makes it so. 
 
 Rangy Pete's lips grew firm and his breath caught 
 sharply. The grip of life was upon him, with its 
 passion of possession. 
 
 The moon rose higher, to peer down upon those 
 firm-set lips, to stare past the blue veil of his eyes, 
 and to search down in the depths of his being for 
 other strings to play upon; and while its oval fullness 
 swept slowly up the arc of the sky, Rangy Pete was 
 attempting to fight out his own battle. 
 
 He sat so long in silence that the burnt-yellow 
 cayuse looked over its shoulder and whinnied softly. 
 
 "I'm guessing you're right, yellow boy," Rangy 
 agreed, at length. "We're making plumb idiots of
 
 RANGY PETE 247 
 
 ourselves, ain't we, cayuse? We mustn't let ourselves 
 get any touch of moon-madness, for our job right 
 now is to sit across this trail and keep any of them 
 wandering coyotes from the Snaky Y from picking 
 it up." 
 
 With that decision upon him Rangy dismounted, 
 unsaddled the cayuse, and rolled himself up in a 
 blanket at the edge of the chaparral at a point where 
 he could command a fair view of the moon-swept 
 stretches of plain lying to the south and towards 
 Triple Butte. 
 
 It was in the wakeful hours of night that the 
 resolution came to him. He was an outcast, so why 
 not follow his own whims? He would pursue the 
 route taken by Miss Dick in the night; and perhaps 
 off there, in the land of hills and gorges which lay 
 beyond the pass in the buttes, he would find her 
 among her own mountain peaks and forested valleys, 
 and perhaps, when he found her, he would be able 
 to understand some of those things which were now 
 a mystery. 
 
 Through the night there were no riders from 
 the Snaky Y, or from Triple Butte, or from any 
 direction whatever; so when the first rays of the sun 
 heralded the day, Rangy began his journey. He 
 would follow Miss Dick, if need be, even to the 
 haunts of the Dervishers. 
 
 The track of her cayuse, as it skirted the clusters 
 of chaparral, was not hard to follow, so Rangy found
 
 248 RANGY PETE 
 
 that he could devote a portion of his time to a pre- 
 cautionary outlook for stray riders who might notify 
 those posses from the Snaky Y. Single riders would 
 not be worrying, even posses of two or three would 
 not be alarming, except for the fact that Miss Dick 
 was somewhere on before. 
 
 It was because of this keen outlook for stray 
 punchers that Rangy almost missed the turning 
 point in his life. For it was really the shying of the 
 burnt-yellow cayuse which drew his attention to that 
 strange looking setting by the side of the chaparral. 
 At sight of it, Rangy jerked the astonished cayuse 
 into a stop, and he uttered a curious variety of 
 expletives, none of which seemed to satisfy his 
 imagination. 
 
 For a time Rangy sat there, staring down at the 
 scene before him, with his left fingers toying with 
 the tip of his ear. 
 
 "Jumping Mavericks!" he exclaimed, at the 
 exhaustion of his expletives. "If them ain't Dan 
 Merrill's 'vaporated apples, you can call me a sheep 
 herder." 
 
 Rangy dismounted slowly, as though quite in con- 
 sternation at the scene before him; and just as slowly 
 and cautiously he examined a box which lay there 
 before the stare of his eyes. It was a paint-smeared 
 box, which had evidently contained evaporated 
 apples, for here, scattered all about, were heaping 
 handfuls of the fragments of apples tossed recklessly
 
 RANGY PETE 249 
 
 through the grass and the sprinkling of sand. 
 
 Dazedly, totally uncomprehending, Rangy began 
 to gather the scattered store of apples for which 
 both he and Miss Dick had risked so much. There 
 was something strange here, something wrong. 
 
 Rangy rose to his feet quickly, and began a search 
 of the range and the chaparral in the immediate 
 vicinity, in hope, almost in fear, that he would find 
 something further to round out the hidden points 
 in the story. Yet the story told to his trained eyes 
 was a simple one. There had been but the one horse 
 pass this way and but the one go away again. That 
 meant that his first fears were unfounded. Miss 
 Dick had not been attacked or waylaid. This was 
 her work alone. 
 
 With still greater amaze upon him, Rangy returned 
 to the task of scraping up those evidences of Miss 
 Dick's eccentricity. He gathered up the apples and 
 heaped them into the box, and when he smoothed 
 them down he found that the receptacle was filled 
 to the brim. Miss Dick doubtless had not taken so 
 much as a single piece of evaporated apple with her; 
 yet there could be no doubt of the fact that this was 
 the Merrill box. The girl also had been seemingly 
 content, for she had ridden on towards the northern 
 buttes. 
 
 Rangy sat down beside that box of discarded 
 treasure and pondered it for long, with the tips of 
 his left fingers constantly playing with his ear.
 
 250 RANGY PETE 
 
 Suddenly he leaped to his feet, sprang to the 
 cayuse's back and turned it once more in the direction 
 of Triple Butte. 
 
 "Ike Collander's the boy who can tell us all about 
 these funny things that have been going on," he 
 informed himself, "and we've just got to find out 
 what it means, yeller boy, Dan Merrill or no Dan 
 Merrill. We'll use our head, but we've got to find 
 out." 
 
 A mile from Triple Butte, Rangy guided the 
 cayuse in among the chaparral. There he picketed 
 the animal, and a half hour later he was within a 
 quarter of a mile of the rear of the Collander 
 store. 
 
 From the security of a cluster of chaparral he 
 studied the town of Triple Butte, but the only 
 outward reflection of its attitude was a great weari- 
 ness because of the trials which had so recently come 
 to its doors. At the best, it was not an hour for 
 activity and now there was but little of it in evidence. 
 There were still some head-drooping cayuses in front 
 of the Burke saloon, but there was no sign of human- 
 ity anywhere. The town doubtless would be sleeping 
 off its debauch of excitement, so Rangy judged it a 
 most opportune moment for advance. 
 
 At the worst, discovery meant battle with what 
 remnant of the Snaky Y forces might have been held 
 back from the combing of those southern trails and 
 ranges; but that was a chance which he would have
 
 RANGY PETE 251 
 
 to take. For there were other things storming at 
 his brain now which seemed more threatening than 
 the augury of battle. 
 
 Rangy moved forward with the utmost caution. 
 Battle, against the odds which Triple Butte could 
 muster, was not to be encouraged. 
 
 But Triple Butte's eyes seemed closed in sleep. 
 The first pale rays of the sun slanted down upon the 
 dusty highway and threw long shadows from the 
 gaunt legs of the horses standing in front of the 
 Burke saloon. Rangy walked confidently to the rear 
 of the Collander store, found it locked, and just as 
 confidently let himself in. He crossed the store- 
 room and moved towards the front. Ike, he fancied, 
 would be sound asleep behind the counter; still, he 
 might be able to throw some light upon that mystery 
 of the evaporated apples. And Rangy felt that some 
 light was necessary, if his brains were to continue 
 to perform their natural functions. 
 
 Just at the doorway he paused. 
 
 It was strange, but there were voices out there 
 in Ike's front store. Voices in (Hollander's store, of 
 all places, at the very moment when he demanded 
 secrecy and when the balance of Triple Butte seemed 
 to be asleep! Rangy stole closer and he listened 
 with caution. 
 
 In the room beyond a dominant voice began to 
 hold sway. 
 
 "Holy snakes!" Rangy protested to himself.
 
 252 RANGY PETE 
 
 " What's come over this town? What's Merrill doing 
 here at this time of day?" 
 
 The man's voice seemed to give its own answer. 
 
 "Shore, all you gotta do, Ike, is to send word to 
 Rangy that the coast is all clear and for him to come 
 back to town. I'm guessing you won't have any 
 trouble finding out where he is; and when he comes 
 back, you won't have anything to do but sit back 
 and save your hide." 
 
 "Why've you got it in for Rangy?" Collander's 
 placating voice answered. "He ain't been doing 
 anything to you. He was full of red-eye last night, 
 same's you was yoreself, and when gents get sober, 
 they forget ' 
 
 "What's he done?" Merrill interjected a slightly 
 bellowing voice. "Ain't he been helping that woman 
 bandit to get away? And ain't she the one what 
 stole my evaporated apples from in front of your 
 store? What more do you want?" 
 
 "What's a few evaporated apples?" Collander 
 insisted; and Rangy felt a glow of warmth for the 
 small man who was fighting out his battles in his 
 absence. "If that's all that's eating you, Dan, you 
 just slope out to my storeroopi and take all the 
 apples you want. There's most a dozen cases of 
 them there 
 
 Dan Merrill made a noise indicative of disgust. 
 
 "What good is yore evaporated apples?" he 
 demanded in a high-pitched voice. " You don't seem
 
 RANGY PETE S5S 
 
 to know what's been goin' on around here, Ike 
 Collander. It weren't them apples what the Der- 
 vishers come to steal; it's what's in the apples." 
 
 Rangy Pete experienced the same sensation of 
 astonishment which caused Ike Collander to wait 
 for a moment before replying. Then shortly he 
 heard Ike's eager oice demanding, 
 
 "An' what's in them apples, Dan?" 
 
 " They ain't nothin' atoll but ten thousand dollars 
 in gold. That's all that's in 'em." 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty!" Ike Collander exclaimed, and 
 his voice indicated that he had acquired a new view- 
 point on life. "How comes it they's ten thousand 
 dollars hid away in them apples?" 
 
 "You otta know it ain't safe to go shippin* it no 
 ordinary way, with them bandits flockin' about the 
 express offices." 
 
 Dan Merrill continued to vent his spleen upon 
 Ike Collander, but Rangy Pete quite lost track of 
 his words. 
 
 Merrill's announcement had come to him with a 
 cold shock of amazement. Ten thousand dollars 
 hidden away in a shipment of evaporated apples! 
 What the money was for did not concern Rangy Pete. 
 But he found that he was keenly interested in the 
 fact that it was this particular box of evaporated 
 apples for which Miss Dick had shown such a pref- 
 erence, and for which she had been willing to run 
 such a risk. That knowledge left Rangy Pete hot
 
 254 RANGY PETE 
 
 with anger, towards himself, towards Miss Dick, and 
 most of all towards Dan Merrill for having shipped 
 money in such a fashion. The latter anger, he shortly 
 realized, was absurd. But it was indicative of the 
 new feelings which had sprouted somewhere within 
 him in the past few days. 
 
 Miss Dick a bandit, a real highwayman ! Her own 
 actions convicted her of that. For when Rangy Pete 
 revolved the circumstances in his mind in rapid 
 retrospect he could not find any more charitable 
 interpretation to put upon the girl's conduct. She 
 had gone to great lengths to acquire that particular 
 box of apples containing Merrill's ten thousand 
 dollars in gold, and in the end she had made of him, 
 Rangy Pete, a tool to accomplish her end. 
 
 Rangy felt the blood surging warmly through his 
 veins. It mounted to his forehead and burned its 
 way through the tan of his cheeks. 
 
 Miss Dick a highwayman, an outcast, as she her- 
 self had said. And there had been those queer emo- 
 tions which grew up within him at the first sight of her. 
 
 While hurried thoughts surged through his brain, 
 Rang lost track of time. He forgot that there were 
 men in the room beyond. For the time being he 
 forgot all things in the world except that the blue- 
 eyed girl who had looked at him so wistfully was in 
 reality a bandit. She had looked at him wistfully, 
 had played with him, toyed with that thin strain of 
 good within him
 
 RANGY PETE 255 
 
 A loud, eager voice in the store beyond drew Rangy 
 back to the present. It was Merrill, shouting: 
 
 " Bully boy, Ike. Then they didn't get it after all." 
 
 After that there were rapid steps. 
 
 In that instant Rangy knew that (Hollander had 
 told Merrill of the exchange of boxes. He knew, 
 as well, that Merrill was coming to the storeroom. 
 His first prompting vas to stand and face Merrill. 
 His second prompting induced him to step behind 
 a convenient pyramid of crated goods. 
 
 The door was thrown open and Merrill stepped 
 through, followed by Ike Collander and Buck 
 Menzie. 
 
 "Where d'you say that box is?" Merrill demanded 
 excitedly. "Don't go gapin' there all day, Collander." 
 
 Ike Collander was staring in a worried way at the 
 vacant place where he had last seen the paint-smeared 
 box. Then he brushed his hand across his forehead as 
 though some of the confusion of the night before 
 were still nagging at his brain. 
 
 "Rangy and me carried it and put it right atop 
 that pile," he declared. "And I remember it's there 
 last night when I goes over to Tony Burke's. I 
 remember seem' it right atop the pile when we 
 thought the bandits had but it ain't got wings 
 and flowed away. It's gotta be here summers - 
 
 Without waiting for encouragement, Merrill 
 tumbled the pile of boxes over and searched each 
 one for the identifying paint-smear.
 
 256 RANGY PETE 
 
 "It ain't got wings," Merrill sneered, "but they's 
 been sumthin' here what has. It's that woman what 
 plugged Berger outside Burke's last night. I've 
 hearn of she hell-cats, but I ain't never saw one afore. 
 She's stole that box, an' Dexter caught her when 
 it's too late. They's a hull bunch of bandits at 
 Burke's last night, fer did'n you see how they shot 
 out the lights?" 
 
 The mention of the female bandit brought the 
 blood once more to Rangy Pete's cheeks and fore- 
 head. Perhaps she had been too clever for Dan 
 Merrill, but it was also plain that she had been too 
 clever for him as well. The situation, combined with 
 Merrill's querulous voice, left Rangy Pete tingling 
 for action. 
 
 At that particular moment Dan Merrill chose to 
 divert his stream of abuse from the absent bandit 
 to the seemingly absent Rangy Pete. 
 
 "An' they ain't no sayin' but what that fool of 
 a Rangy Pete is in cahoots with the bandits," 
 Merrill directed his spleen at Buck Menzie. "I 
 been thinkin' he's actin' queer of late, an' you seen 
 what he done last night when them bandits shot 
 the lights out." 
 
 "Yeah," Menzie drawled. "I seen and hearn all 
 he done last night. My ears was both workin' right 
 when Dexter come back from the Hash Knife, and 
 they didn't miss a word. My eyes might of been 
 a bit bleary, but I kinda remember seein' Stipples 
 
 ..
 
 RANGY PETE 257 
 
 go down the road to meet them three men - 
 
 Menzie's taunt was rewarded with a fine stream 
 of invective which reached out and embraced Ike 
 Collander. 
 
 "He mighta done that last night 'cause I's 
 drunk," Merrill broke off from invective to connected 
 words, "an' 'cause he closed my shootin* eye when 
 I's lookin' the other way. But that was last night. 
 This mornin' I'd shore like to get my eyes on that 
 fool of a Rangy Pete. I'd " 
 
 Dan Merrill's words broke off as abruptly as 
 though his lips had been closed with a blow. His 
 mouth remained slightly open, and he stared directly 
 in front of him with the attitude of a man who sees 
 a most unexpected apparition. 
 
 Ike Collander, looking in the same direction, sa\* 
 that the apparition was Rangy Pete. He saw, as 
 well, that Rangy was standing about a yard from 
 a pyramid of dry-goods boxes, that his pose was 
 negligent, but that both thumbs were hooked into 
 his leather belt just above the hip bones. Imme- 
 diately below the right thumb was the bulge made 
 by the holster of a six-gun. 
 
 In the flash of swift time, Collander noticed that 
 Rangy's eyes were hard and cold and gleaming, 
 with a hardness which he had never seen before; 
 yet when Rangy spoke, Collander was surprised at 
 the mildness in his drawl. 
 
 "It ain't noways polite, Dan, to go clippin' off
 
 258 RANGY PETE 
 
 yore words thattaway when another person horns 
 in," 1 Rangy 's voice came clear and smooth and 
 velvety. "I'd shore admire a hull lot to know what 
 yer gonna do when you get yore eyes on me, though 
 it kinda looks to me as though they's one of yore 
 eyes what's had an argyment with sum thin'." 
 
 Merrill's face flamed a passionate red. 
 
 The situation, he knew, would have been quite 
 bad enough without witnesses. With two men alone, 
 there might have been some opportunity for com- 
 promise, or for trickery. But at this particular 
 moment, with the tongue-wagging Buck Menzie 
 looking on and eagerly annotating every word and 
 movement, the future looked different. 
 
 Merrill's shifty eyes knew that they were staring 
 into the face of death. The brain behind the eyes 
 knew the falseness of Rangy Pete's velvety voice; 
 it knew the taunt in Rangy's drawl; it knew, as 
 well, that Rangy was trying to goad Merrill into 
 the first hostile move. 
 
 Dan Merrill stood still, with the flame of passion 
 upon his features. For Merrill knew that for the 
 first time in his quick-shooting career his cards had 
 been called. As he stood there through the seconds 
 which seemed endless, he thought of the many times 
 when he had held men as Rangy Pete now held him; 
 and he remembered how, in the end, he had goaded 
 them into the one hostile move which let him shoot 
 them down in cold blood. That was Merrill's way.
 
 RANGY PETE 259 
 
 Hold men by the power of his personality, taunt 
 them until their weaker wills broke before his gibes, 
 and then, when they reached for their guns, to shoot 
 them with the calm surety that the lawless law of 
 the land would be with him. 
 
 How many men had he killed in that way? Four 
 five or was it six? 
 
 A cold perspiration came and stood on the forehead 
 of Dan Merrill, the swift-shooting fire-eater. 
 
 An even break? God, how he had always laughed 
 at the words before! An even break? That had 
 not been his way. A little of the edge upon the other 
 fellow. That was it just that thin margin of edge 
 which Rangy Pete now had upon him. 
 
 Something of those quick, flaming thoughts must 
 have shown upon Merrill's face, for Rangy Pete's 
 lips curled into a smile which was nothing more 
 than a taunt. 
 
 "You shorely ain't gonna tell me you been a 
 lookin' fer me to give me a punchin' job out to the 
 Snaky Y," Rangy went on. "I ain't sayin' but 
 what li'l Danny needs sumone to go" round with 
 him an' keep the big boys from mussin' up his purty 
 clothes, but they ain't no use askin' me to ride herd 
 thattaway. You got the wrong idea, Danny. I ain't 
 no nurse-maid. I'm a puncher." 
 
 Merrill clenched his fingers and held them tight 
 with an effort of the will. His face grew a darker 
 red and the flame of his anger shone from his eyes.
 
 260 RANGY PETE 
 
 If only he could gain one small second of time. 
 If only Fate would step in and give him that one 
 little gift from the great gulf of eternity. Just one 
 second. Just one second ahead of Rangy Pete. 
 That would do it. 
 
 In his boasts, Merrill had bragged of the even 
 break which he had always given the other fellow. 
 But in these cold seconds which seemed to be mea- 
 suring him up for life or for death, Merrill knew 
 that never in his life had he given the other man 
 an even break. He had always asked the sure thing. 
 Oh, God, for one second out of the endless cycle of 
 time one second a sure thing - 
 
 "Er mabbe Danny's gonna say he's sorry fer 
 wantin' to pick on a pore li'l feller like Rangy Pete," 
 Rangy went on, with increasing mockery in his 
 voice. "It's sorta funny, ain't it, Buck, how Danny's 
 been a lookin' an* a lookin* fer me, an* when he finds 
 me he's that joyous he can't find a word to say? 
 If I's Danny, I'd do sumthin*. I would'n go to 
 standin' there like I's made of stone." 
 
 Merrill's fingers clenched more firmly still. Gad, 
 if only he dared make that one swift reach for his 
 six-gun. That, though it meant death, would be a 
 relief. He could understand now how those other 
 men had broken before his will. But he would not 
 break 
 
 He would not reach. He had heard of Rangy's 
 speed on the draw. To test it? Not now. Some
 
 RANGY PETE 261 
 
 other day, perhaps. Some day in the future when 
 the edge was with and not against him. 
 
 The drops of perspiration stood large and prom- 
 inent upon Merrill's forehead. Then he forced a 
 laugh to his lips. He tried to bring a casual tone 
 to his lips as he spoke. 
 
 "What's wrong with you, Rangy Pete, you tarna- 
 tion idjiot?" he demanded, with an attempt at 
 bantering. " I shore have been lookin' for you - 
 
 "An' now't you found me, what's there so funny 
 to laugh about?" 
 
 "You, Rangy, standin' there like you're ready to 
 claw sumbody's eyes out. You ain't got me right, 
 Rangy. I been lookin' fer you 'cause yer the best 
 tracker of trails in two counties, and I got a job 
 for you." 
 
 Already Merrill was feeling much freer. His quick 
 wit had come to his rescue at last. It had saved him 
 from the humiliation of backing down before Rangy 
 Pete. It had, he believed, put an entirely different 
 complexion upon affairs in the eyes of Buck Menzie. 
 
 "You don't mean to say yer wantin' me to ride 
 herd on you, Dan, to keep the bad men away?" 
 
 Merrill compelled himself to twist his lips into 
 the shape of a grin. It was difficult, but there was 
 still that thin edge of advantage with Rangy Pete. 
 
 "It amounts to 'bout the same thing," Merrill 
 admitted, with his forced smile still in evidence. 
 "You mayn't know it, but them Dervishers got
 
 262 RANGY PETE 
 
 away with ten thousand dollars of my money in 
 gold, and we're gonta take a posse and follow them 
 till we get the gold or cut it outa their hides. We 
 want the best tracker in the whole State to lead the 
 way, and you're him." 
 
 At this stage, Merrill really began to expand. 
 His brain was such a versatile thing. It had gotten 
 him out of more than one bad corner, and now it 
 was serving him again to fine purpose. Perhaps it 
 would shortly reverse their positions and put Rangy 
 Pete in the corner. In that event, it might not be 
 necessary to lead a posse into the hills. 
 
 "Them kind words is most more'n I can stand," 
 Rangy declared, with apparent sincerity. "They 
 touch a soft spot in me what wants to weep. But 
 you otta know, Dan, 'at I got a sort of likin' fer 
 this ole hide of mine. It's queer, but I got a likin' 
 fer myself what I can't get over. If it wa'n't fer 
 that, I most mabbe would 'n mind ridin' out in front 
 an' lettin' you come smoochin' along behind." 
 
 Rangy Pete waited expectantly. If Merrill 
 refused to accept that insult, then he could be sure 
 that Merrill was determined to preserve life at the 
 cost of all things else. 
 
 Merrill's fingers closed again, and his lips twitched. 
 But with a supreme effort he recovered his smile 
 and held it. He even forced a laugh. 
 
 "But I mean it, Rangy," he declared. "I shore 
 want you to track the Dervishers for me."
 
 RANGY PETE 2CS 
 
 Rangy Pete's manner changed, though his watch- 
 fulness did not slacken in the least. 
 
 "That's different/' he admitted, as the drawl 
 left his voice. "Why didn't you say that in the 
 first place? But what makes you think they got 
 your money? The best I ever heard about your 
 money, Dan, was that you had debts; and it seems 
 to me I remember a session last night over at Tony's." 
 
 Again Merrill's face became a picture of confused 
 desires; but in the end caution won over anger. 
 
 "It doesn't matter what happened last night," 
 he scowled savagely. "That was my ten thousand 
 and they stole it. They robbed me, and somebody 
 has gotta string for it." 
 
 Rangy nodded reflectively, almost absently. 
 
 "I see," he concluded. "Trying to slip something 
 over on Ring'em Foster. And won't he be the 
 pleased little boy when he hears about this?" Then 
 Rangy's voice sharpened. "Looks as thougli you 
 had some kind, of a skin game going, Merrill, and 
 I'd start looking for the bottom if I had the time. 
 Now, is there anybody else besides Ring'em who 
 can't get Danny cornered in the same corral with 
 his yellow boys? Ike, how about you? Seems to me 
 that little scowling Danny has been dodging you for 
 some time. Ike Collander, you got a bill against Dan?' 
 
 Collander nodded his head in swift appreciation. 
 
 "You know I have, Rangy," he declared. 
 
 "Then, Ike, you just step outside, and you make
 
 264 RANGY PETE 
 
 up that bill. Do it pronto, and don't you go to 
 being stingy with yourself. And Ike, before you go, 
 frisk little Danny for any cannon he might be toting 
 around him with evil intent. He's looking restless, 
 and I wouldn't nohow want you to come back and 
 find him perforated with little holes." 
 
 Ike Collander, it developed, had no scruples 
 against such a task. He even appeared to put a 
 little personal touch into the operation, so that in 
 the end he produced two derringers which he pre- 
 sented to Rangy Pete. 
 
 "Now you mosey," Rangy instructed. "Buck 
 Menzie, is there anything that little Dan is owing 
 you in the way of red-eye or anything else?" 
 
 Menzie removed his sombrero, and he used the 
 tip of a finger to agitate the top of his head. 
 
 "Don't you be afraid to speak up, Buck," Rangy 
 encouraged. "Little Dan has got a big and generous 
 heart, but it's only intimate friends like me what 
 knows it. I found out long ago, Buck, that Dan's 
 rough and shaggy on the outside, but behind what 
 they call a rough exterior there's a heart a burning 
 with the milk of human kindness." 
 
 "I do sort of remember a bill of two- three years 
 standing what Dan never paid," Buck picked up 
 courage. " It weren't much, only twenty-five yellow 
 boys, but I been thinking I could use it." 
 
 "You shore can," Rangy replied mildly. "Dan's 
 already reaching for his pocket, and I wouldn't be
 
 RANGY PETE 265 
 
 noways surprised if he gave you a couple of extra 
 yellow boys for forgetting about it for so long." 
 
 Merrill, braggart and bully that he was, still had 
 sufficient intelligence to recognize when the game 
 of life had turned against him. So, with a fair imita- 
 tion of a smile, he cleared up the long-standing debt 
 with Menzie, and when (Hollander returned a 
 moment later with a bill running into the hundreds, 
 Merrill paid it without question. 
 
 Rangy 's attitude was one of astonishment. 
 
 "Jumping Mavericks!" he exclaimed mildly. "If 
 it ain't funny where Dan gets ail the money. Last 
 night he's sobbing to Ring'em about the crool deeds 
 of poverty; and now you got me feeling so sad and 
 sorrowful, Dan, that I can't nohow resist yore offer 
 to go traipsing after Dervishers. I'm hearing you 
 pay good money for trackers." 
 
 "Highest going," Merrill agreed eagerly, for 
 already he could see the opening of the avenue which 
 would lead to revenge upon Rangy Pete. "Name 
 yore own figure, Rangy. Anything in reason, and 
 it's yours." 
 
 "Suppose we say a couple of hundred yellow boys 
 for pointing out the person what took yore ten 
 thousand dollars away from this building. Don't 
 that sound reasonable?" 
 
 "It does," Merrill admitted hastily. "You point 
 out the person, and if he's within gun distance, you 
 get the two hundred."
 
 266 RANGY PETE 
 
 Rangy considered for a moment, through which 
 interval it was evident that he revised some intention 
 in his brain, for now he contented himself with a 
 sharp nod and the brief remark: 
 
 "All right, gents, I'll be smooching out on the job." 
 
 With methodical care, Rangy walked past the 
 three men to the doorway leading to the Collander 
 store. He closed the door, locked it from the inside, 
 tried it carefully, then dropped the key in his pocket. 
 Next he handed one of Merrill's six-guns to Ike 
 Collander, and threw the other through a hole into 
 the unused loft. Finally Rangy walked to the 
 outer door, tested the lock, and stood for a moment 
 in the doorway looking in upon the men. 
 
 "What you gonna do, you idjiot?" Collander 
 demanded. "You gonna lock us in?" 
 
 But Rangy 's eyes were engaged in a shrewd study 
 of Merrill's angered features. 
 
 "You'll have to excuse me, Merrill, for over- 
 hearing what you was planning to do through Ike 
 Collander," he remarked coldly. "They ain't no use 
 sending any messages to me ilow saying that the 
 trail is all clear, and they ain't any use holding any- 
 thing against Ike. For if you do, Merrill ! I 
 heard what Ring'em Foster said to you last night, 
 and I know the kind of holes he's gonna claw into 
 yore hide as soon as he hears how you been double- 
 crossing him. But listen, Merrill! You touch so 
 much as one of Ike's little fingers, and the things
 
 RANGY PETE 967 
 
 that'll happen to you will make you think Foster 
 was talking about a hugging match. Don't you go 
 to listening wrong, or getting any stray ideas into 
 yore head. I may be mooching on my way, but 
 there won't be many things I won't hear, and if I 
 hear anything about Ike getting mussed up, Merrill, 
 there won't be enough punchers west of the Mississippi 
 to keep me from getting at you; and if I have to 
 get at you thai way, you debt-dodging hold-out, 
 shooting will be too good. I'll rope you up and cut 
 you to pieces with a pen-knife. Now, Merrill, you 
 gonna touch Ike?" 
 
 The man's baleful eyes had become shifty and 
 nervous. 
 
 "My God, no!" he exclaimed fervently; then his 
 voice became whining, "You won't tell Foster?" 
 
 Rangy considered the other contemptuously. 
 
 "I'm thinking I won't," he concluded. "Not 
 yet. But if I have to !" 
 
 Merrill's trapped manner seemed to indicate that, 
 at the best, he was storing up hatred. But for the 
 moment, Rangy overlooked it. 
 
 "What do you think, Ike?" he asked. "You want 
 to stay in here, or will you come outside when I lock 
 this coyote in?" 
 
 "I'm thinking I'll stay a while to see that it don't 
 gnaw its way out too soon." 
 
 "Good enough," Rangy allowed; and even as he 
 spoke there came the sound of steps in the outer
 
 268 RANGY PETE 
 
 store, followed shortly by the rapping of knuckles 
 upon the inner doorway. 
 
 Merrill's gloating eyes sharpened swiftly. Treach- 
 ery, it became evident, bulked large upon the code 
 of his permissible morals. 
 
 "Ike, you step to the door and see who it is," 
 Rangy took charge swiftly. "And, Merrill, not a 
 peep out of you." 
 
 But a voice from beyond defeated (Hollander's 
 intent. 
 
 The voice plainly was that of Stipples, and it 
 was peaceful enough. 
 
 "Invite him in," Rangy appeared to make a 
 sudden decision. 
 
 Chance, he could see, had thrust Stipples across 
 his pathway; and sooner or later chance must reveal 
 all the deeds of the night. Stipples was here now, 
 so discretion advised that he be housed up with the 
 infuriated Dan Merrill until he, Rangy Pete, had 
 once more vanished into the chaparral. For Stipples, 
 a tool of Merrill's, would shortly tell all he knew, 
 and that story would not add to Rangy's welcome 
 in Triple Butte. 
 
 The thoughts were racing swiftly through his 
 brain even as Collander went to the door, opened it 
 cautiously and admitted Sheriff Stipples. 
 
 At first sight of the weapon which Rangy leveled 
 upon him, Stipples' hands flew into the air. 
 
 "Got a sort of a quick habit, haven't you, Mr.
 
 RANGY PETE 200 
 
 Stipples?" Rangy drawled. "And what might be 
 bringing you around to Ike's so early in the morning? 
 This weren't no invitation party, Stipples, 'cause 
 little Dan and me has just been having a right fit 
 understanding. Line up here beside Dan while I 
 removes yore hardware. Now, peaceful like, what 
 brings you here?" 
 
 "I was looking for Merrill," Stipples was frowning, 
 and even in the uncertainty of the moment Rangy 
 fancied that there was none of the old fawning 
 which the man habitually displayed in the presence 
 of the owner of the Snaky Y. "Burk Laxton got 
 back early this morning, and he's got a queer story 
 to tell about you, Merrill. His bank has put him 
 on the job, and he says you've been shipping money 
 into Triple Butte behind the backs of the banks. 
 The banks out east say you've been dodging your 
 debts there to pay them here, and we know you've 
 been dodging them here. And now we find you've 
 been shipping in money. What's it mean, Dan?" 
 
 In a quick flash of the moment, even while 
 Merrill's face went white under the bronze, Rangy 
 Pete could see what one of the swift answers must 
 be. Merrill, it was evident, was working on some 
 rather skilful plan to pit one set of creditors against 
 the other, for some purpose of his own, while he 
 quietly accumulated a mass of gold at the expense 
 of both; but it was not Merrill's machinations which 
 interested Rangy just now. It was, instead, the
 
 270 . RANGY PETE 
 
 surety that his part in the disappearance of that 
 ten thousand must shortly become public knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 So it was for him to act. 
 
 "You" 'can find that out later, Stipples," Rangy 
 broke in. "Talk it over after I'm gone. But now 
 I want toicollect a reward of two hundred dollars off 
 little Danny here- 
 
 "Two hundred?" Merrill growled. "What-for?"" 
 
 "For pointing out to you the man who took yore 
 money out of Ike's store. I'm pointing at him now, 
 Danny." 
 
 Rangy 's. finger, it was evident to all, was directed 
 towards the astonished countenance of Sheriff 
 Stipples. The latter's lips were working in amaze- 
 ment, while Merrill was scowling with fresh anger, 
 and he was leaning forward slightly in the direction 
 of the sheriff. 
 
 - "That true, Stipples?" he bellowed. '"You been 
 double-crossing me?" 
 
 -Stipples, it was apparent, was too much astonished 
 at the quick turn of events to get his mental balance. 
 
 "Don't ask him that, Danny," Rangy inserted. 
 " That ain't no proper kind of a question to ask any 
 man. Ask him this did you, Mr. Sheriff Stipples, 
 take out of this room a box of evaporated apples 
 what was all paint-smeared?" 
 
 While his eyes avoided the hostility which wa 
 leaping from Merrill's countenance, Stipples gulped
 
 RANGY PETE 271 
 
 quickly and answered what seemed to be a simple 
 question. 
 
 "I did," he said, "and you know, Rangy, that 
 
 Rangy held up a swift hand in protest. 
 
 "Not another word," he spoke sharply. "That 
 ain't necessary at all. Now, Danny, you see I been 
 earning that two hundred dollars reward, and I'll 
 be troubling you for it right now." 
 
 Slowly, voicelessly, while his baleful eyes still 
 rested upon Stipples, Merrill reached into his pocket 
 and pulled forth a roll of bills. 
 
 "You count off two hundred, Bee," Rangy 
 instructed tensely; and when Collander had accom- 
 plished the deed he returned the balance to Merrill. 
 
 Cautiously, with infinite relish, Rangy began to 
 back slowly towards the rear door of the storeroom, 
 but the bulk of his caution, he could see, was wasted 
 effort. For the moment, the fevered Merrill had 
 all but forgotten his presence. Instead, he was 
 glaring at the sheriff, and the frightened Stipples 
 was facing him with assumed bravado, but with a 
 tinge of whiteness about the cheeks. 
 
 Rangy half closed the door, then he opened it 
 again quickly. 
 
 "Ike," he spoke mildly, "if you wanta come with 
 me- 
 
 Collander gestured impatiently. 
 
 "Go away, Rangy," he protested, "I wanta see 
 this."
 
 272 RAXGY PETE 
 
 Rangy closed the door softly and locked it from 
 the outside; and as he did so he could hear the 
 angered rumbling of Merrill's voice. 
 
 That rumbling had to do entirely with the mis- 
 understanding which had grown up with Sheriff 
 Stipples; but since it must be purely temporary, 
 Rangy did not wait for the answer. It was an inter- 
 lude which could be employed to better advantage. 
 So a moment later he was walking briskly across 
 the open stretch of plain to the cluster of chaparral 
 where he had recently left the burnt-yellow cayusc. 
 
 At the most optimistic reckoning, he knew, it 
 would be something less than a quarter of an hour 
 before Merrill and Stipples would straighten out 
 their tangle, before they could carve their way out 
 of the Collander storeroom and raise the hue and cry.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 WITH the conflict of storming thoughts about him, 
 Rangy Pete rode swiftly along the trail set by Miss 
 Dick the bandit. Bandit she was, full of all the 
 wiles and trickeries of the world. 
 
 But to keep his mind clear of that torment, and 
 of the biting memory of the tool she had made of 
 him, Rangy tried to think of that pursuit which 
 must, or which should be behind him. 
 
 It was an hour now since that incident in Ike 
 Collander's storeroom, and as yet there had been no 
 braying sounds of a racing army. Yet army there 
 must be, setting out sooner or later upon his path, 
 with grim lips, and with determination whipped 
 into their faces by the lashing words of Merrill's 
 anger. 
 
 The pursuit of that army, and its greed to inflict 
 punishment, must be just as inevitable as was this 
 other thing pressing at his brain, this nagging, 
 whipping thought which mocked and taunted him, 
 which whispered that Miss Dick, the bandit, had 
 made of him a flexible tool, this thought with its 
 corollary that he must track her down, even as he 
 himself would be tracked down by the Snaky Y, and 
 that when he found her when he found her what? 
 
 878
 
 274 RANGY PETE 
 
 With an angry gesture, Rangy shook that thought 
 from him. His mind, he knew, should be upon that 
 army which even now must be forming behind him. 
 For Rangy knew the interpretation which, even at 
 this moment, must be placed upon his actions back 
 in Triple Butte. He, to all outward appearances, 
 and so far as they knew or cared, was the bandit 
 who had stolen that ten thousand dollars in gold. 
 He henceforth must be the object of their vengeful 
 and unflagging pursuit. And beyond him, along 
 this same trail was Miss Dick! 
 
 Again he shook his head angrily. Why must his 
 thoughts be constantly straying back to her, to the 
 girl who had mocked him, who had made of him a 
 plaything which she had now cast aside? He would 
 not think of her. 
 
 Back in Triple Butte that army would be forming. 
 There had been delay, and there doubtless would 
 be more, because the bulk of the Snaky Y punchers 
 had ridden into the south through the night, seeking 
 to block the trails which he had not followed. So 
 Merrill must wait until their return. Perhaps even, 
 no one had actually seen his retreat from the Col- 
 lander store, and time must be lost in picking up 
 his trail. An hour gained, perhaps two, or three, 
 and that would help to find Miss Dick and warn her 
 of the advancing army. 
 
 Once more Rangy struggled with his thoughts. 
 They were such wilfully unconscious things, flitting
 
 RANGY TETE 275 
 
 back to the girl so constantly; and even now he had 
 found that they were still trying to shield her. That, 
 at least, was a thing which he could overcome. 
 
 Still, looking at it from his own confused basis, 
 he really could not take any chances just yet that 
 Miss Dick should fall into the hands of the Snaky Y 
 posse. There was his own attitude towards her 
 which was as yet undetermined, and he must have 
 time to see that it became properly formed. Back 
 of it was the vague idea of punishment; but just 
 what form that punishment should take was a matter 
 which the turmoil of his brain had not yet worked 
 out. 
 
 Punishment of some form there must be. For had 
 she not taken him and played upon the thin strain 
 of good within him? Had she not sought out the 
 few fragments of his better nature and shaped them 
 to her own purpose? And that was a sin which 
 no woman should be permitted to work upon 
 man. 
 
 Rangy's lips grew firmer and straighter. It was 
 better now to give full sway to those turbulent 
 thoughts which insisted upon molding the future 
 of Miss Dick. 
 
 It was more calming to the brain to read into the 
 days yet to come, and to find there the conviction 
 that he must follow the girl until he found her, and 
 that when he found her he must teach to her the 
 inalienable fact that the thin strains of good in man
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 are too rare, too sacred, to become the toys of a 
 woman's passing whim. 
 
 That was a clear and distinct purpose resolving 
 itself out of the whirl of tormenting thoughts, and 
 when it came and took definite shape before his brain 
 it seemed to brush aside all those gibbering shadows 
 which had been nagging him. 
 
 So, it was all clear now. The one definite aim of 
 life must be to find Miss Dick and to teach to her 
 this code of man! 
 
 How calm and reasoning his brain became under 
 the soothing of that resolve ! All things else, he could 
 see now, must be submerged to that single end. 
 That meant that he must not, he dare not, take any 
 chances that the punchers of the Snaky Y would 
 find Miss Dick before he came up with her. It meant 
 that he must not follow so openly the trail she had 
 ridden in the night. Further, if need be, it implied 
 that he must leave her trail, must draw aside the 
 pursuit of the Snaky Y in order to shield her for his 
 own punishment. 
 
 Rangy Pete drew the burnt-yellow cayuse to a 
 sudden halt at the edge of a clump of chaparral. 
 Not a sound in the world about him, except the vague 
 murmurings of the ranges. Not a living thing within 
 the limits of his eye. The firm resolve was upon him. 
 
 At the next thin point in Miss Dick's trail, he 
 would blind it so that the hurrying posse would 
 swing into the pursuit of him alone, and then, some
 
 RANGY PETE 277 
 
 time later in the great future, when he had shaken 
 aside the anger of Dan Merrill and the Snaky Y, he 
 would find the girl, and he would teach her that 
 code of man. 
 
 It was more satisfying thus to see before him a 
 surer future, even though it doubtless did mean 
 riding into that tangled land of hills and forests 
 beyond the Pass, into the very home of the Der- 
 yishers. But if that were needed, it would be all 
 the keener teaching to the girl who had tricked him 
 so calmly. She had tricked him. And he had 
 thought, once or twice, that there had been a slight 
 softening in her eyes when he turned about quickly 
 and surprised her looking at him. Folly. Surprised 
 her? Rangy Pete laughed aloud. Studied, vampirish 
 glances, that was all. A cold-blooded harpy who 
 flocked with bandits! 
 
 Slowly, under the emotion of the moment, his 
 hands ran down the breast of his khaki shirt, and 
 beneath his fingers there was the faint crumpling of 
 paper. The feel of that brought more laughter to 
 his lips. Miss Dick's last message to him. Mockery 
 again, he presumed. Swiftly he drew out the envel- 
 ope and slit it open. There, before his eyes, a scrawled 
 announcement, like an old-time business card: 
 
 Miss Dick, Bandit, 
 
 Plain Highwaymanry Neatly Done. 
 
 Terms Reasonable. Fine Openings for Recruits. 
 
 Appointments, Thursdays, The Crags, South Butte.
 
 278 RANGY PETE 
 
 Taunting him, this time! Rangy Pete crushed 
 the paper in his fingers; then he tore it into tiny 
 fragments and scattered it into the air. 
 
 Mocking him, was she, off there from the strong- 
 hold of the hills? And never yet had man or woman 
 mocked Rangy Pete without finding a swift answer 
 to their challenge. The future was growing clear 
 with the passing of the minutes. For this was 
 Thursday, and tonight he would meet her at The 
 Crags, though the whole army of the Snaky Y were 
 at his heels. 
 
 It was clearer now than ever before. All through 
 the day he could lay down a tangled course for the 
 riders of the Snaky Y to follow, then, when the 
 thickening of night threw its shield about him, he 
 could ride straight for the Crags, that catacomb 
 land of the south butte standing out there premier 
 of the jagged sentinels which had given to Triple 
 Butte its name. 
 
 With this purpose upon him, Rangy rode through 
 the day, and from time to time as he looked over his 
 shoulder upon the higher levels, he could see the 
 churned-up dust marking the far skyline. At sight 
 of that he always laughed. 
 
 Dust upon the skyline! The strange mockery of 
 that! How many times had he not ridden in i posse 
 which stirred up the dust of the plains just as those 
 riders behind him were doing now? And now it 
 was himself out in front, with others thirsting for
 
 RANGY PETE 279 
 
 his punishment. Then, when he laughed, he rode on; 
 for there was a new flame in his blood. 
 
 "Fine opening for recruits," Miss Dick had written. 
 
 Miss Dick, the blue-eyed round-cheeked rider, 
 with the wistful glances which cut through the crust 
 of life and somehow found lodgment in the seat of 
 emotion; Miss Dick the lure, the vampire who 
 dragged men in and made bandits of them, and then, 
 no doubt, threw them aside for new victims! The 
 flame grew brighter in Range's cheeks. Thank 
 God he had been warned against that! 
 
 Before him now, in the westering sky, the sun 
 slipping down towards the tips of the buttes. The 
 dull, gray spires of butte land standing before him 
 in solemn majesty, with their dun ranks bleak and 
 frowning and uninviting. Cold and hard and drab 
 off there, in the dying glare of the sun. Cold, with 
 all the cruelty of nature whose laws are inflexible 
 and unforgiving. Cold as the heart of a woman! 
 
 What else could he have expected from Miss Dick, 
 or from any woman nurtured upon the iron of the 
 hills? An iron life off there in the drab buttes, iron 
 without and iron within a constant battle with 
 the reign of nature and the will of the plainsmen! 
 
 If his life had been a persistent bowing before the 
 law of brute survival, what must have been the life 
 of Miss Dick? Folly! Weakness! Why think of that? 
 
 Red and hazy, the sun dropped through the film 
 of the upper horizon, slipped down behind the buttes,
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 and the long, thickening fingers of the shadows crept 
 out towards Rangy Pete. It was time to ride 
 directly for the Crags. 
 
 Rangy threaded his way through a tortuous defile, 
 followed the draw while it grew narrower and 
 steeper, and toiled up a slope until it mounted a 
 summit of rock. At the summit, he paused to look 
 backward through the encroaching shadows. It was 
 lighter off there on the tumbling plains, for the 
 slanting sun still tilted over the buttes and painted 
 pale patterns over the chaparral. Off there, in the 
 far space, was a purple haze sitting just above the 
 checkered patchwork of the ranges. 
 
 In that film of purple haze was a torn gap of 
 fleecy gray, which fluttered and died and fluttered 
 again. It rose and fell like folds of smoke tossed 
 about in the breeze; but thin and vaporish as it 
 was, it told its own story to Rangy Pete. 
 
 "Yellow boy, there's a neat army back there," 
 he addressed the patient cayuse, "but we lost them 
 a bit this afternoon. I'm guessing now that we have 
 two hours the start of them, and that should be 
 enough to see the vampire up here at the Crags." 
 
 For a moment he watched the fluttering of that 
 film cloud, then he turned abruptly and plunged 
 into the shadows of butte land. A strange race this 
 he was running, with the pursuers at his heels, and 
 he at the heels of another pursued! 
 
 Through the butte land draw he raced, up rock-
 
 RANGY PETE 281 
 
 strewn summits, through shadow-tinted valleys, 
 climbing ever to an upper level, piercing always 
 towards the heart of that cave-dotted southern butte 
 which had earned the name of The Crags. It was a 
 simple course he was following, without the tanglings 
 of the plains to confuse the pursuers: and Rangy 
 Pete had no hope that the army of the Snaky Y 
 would lose the trail out there upon the ranges before 
 they plunged into the twilight of butte land 
 
 Rangy had no hope that he could shake off the 
 pursuers; rather, he gave them barely a thought at 
 all; for there was whirling through his brain the 
 knowledge that off here, a few more miles through 
 the shadows, was Miss Dick the highwayman. 
 
 At one moment a qualm of doubt touched him, 
 and there dashed through his brain the memory 
 that the girl had not said whether she would be 
 alone or accompanied by a band from the Dervish ers. 
 And if the latter were the case, who could say what 
 strange battle he might have to fight out for freedom, 
 That thought drew him to a slower pace, as he con- 
 templated the embarrassment of being caught 
 between the Dervishers and the Snaky Y; then 
 shortly he spurred back to his old speed. Miss Dick 
 would be awaiting him alone, off there at the edge 
 of the valley which marked the foot of the Crags. 
 
 Yet when finally the burnt-yellow cayuse stepped 
 out into the dim shadow land of the valley, Rangy* 
 slipped from its back cautiously, and he loosened
 
 8 RANGY PETE 
 
 one six-gun in its holster. In this manner he slipped 
 forward, with infinite caution, until he came to the 
 sheer face of the cliffs. He used the same deliberate 
 care, with his senses attuned for the minutest of 
 sound or message, as he began to thread the darkened 
 defile between the cliffs which marked the boulder- 
 strewn passageway into the draw beyond. Silence 
 everywhere, silence eerie and unnerving, which but 
 accentuated his consciousness that all about him 
 were the staring eyes of those caves of crag land, 
 which might or might not at this instant be shielding 
 the eyes of Dervishers. 
 
 Hostile silence in the air about! Dun and dreary 
 walls of cliffs climbing ever upward until their tips 
 were blended with the sky above. A lonely hole, 
 this, even in the glare of day. A place where tragedy 
 might reign, and man be none the wiser! 
 
 Silence clinging about him with its hostile menace! 
 Not even the flapping wings of night-birds, or the 
 husking call of mating creatures. Silence, dun, and 
 black and dreary! 
 
 Thank goodness, he was coming to the end of this 
 night-smeared defile. The cliffs were widening out. 
 It was growing brighter out here, and sooner or 
 later, with this blackness shaken from him, there 
 would be the pale paintings of the rising moon. 
 
 Rangy stepped forward more quickly, more con- 
 fidently. Then abruptly he paused, as the conscious- 
 ness of a nearby presence^was carried to him through
 
 RANGY PETE 283 
 
 the lessening dark. He looked about swiftly, but 
 saw nothing. Then the coldness of a human voice 
 reached his ears. 
 
 "You're covered, young man, whoever you are. 
 The best thing you can do is to start reaching for 
 the stars. It's the most healthy thing I know 
 of." 
 
 It was only the continued sound of the voice which 
 told Rangy Pete where the speaker stood, but once 
 heard, that voice was such a simple thing to follow. 
 The speaker could be nothing else but that dark 
 lump whicli looked like an excrescence of rock upon 
 the boulder in front of him. Rangy 's lips parted 
 grimly through the darkness. It would be such an 
 easy thing, that sprawling fall of his with its shot 
 from the ground. But that was impossible, for the 
 voice was the voice of Miss Dick! 
 
 And as yet he had not determined his attitude 
 towards her, except that it must be one of punish- 
 ment, one of teaching her that old code of mankind. 
 At the best, it must be hostility. 
 
 "You got rider's cramp," the cold voice went on, 
 "or why ain't you putting them up?" 
 
 Rangy raised his hands slowly into the air. 
 
 "I shore ain't got no objections to reaching, if 
 that'll rest yore eyes any," Rangy replied; then 
 broke off at the sound of a low chuckle of 
 laughter. 
 
 So that was to be the girl's attitude? Laughter,
 
 2S4 RANGY PETE 
 
 friendship, when but a few short hours ago she had 
 tricked him into stealing for her some ten thousand 
 dollars in gold! She had made of him this outcast 
 which he had become; yet the sound of her subdued 
 laughter was still ringing through his brain. 
 
 "So it's you, Rangy Pete?" the girl resumed, in 
 a much altered tone. "I thought it might be, but 
 one can never afford to take chances in the buttrs. 
 You can take them down." 
 
 Rangy's hands continued to waver in the air. 
 
 "I said you could take them down," the girl 
 reminded. 
 
 "Shore I heard you the first time," Rangy 
 'returned, quite coldly. "If it's all the same to you, 
 I'll be leaving them up." 
 
 "Of all the absurd things!" Miss Dick laughed 
 more freely. "Of course, if you happen to have a bet 
 with yourself, leave them there." 
 
 "It ain't absurd, an' it ain't no bet," Rangy 
 informed, with the same degree of coldness. "You 
 got the drop on me, Miss Dick, an' I ain't gonna 
 take no advantage of you." 
 
 This time the girl did not answer directly. Some- 
 thing strange in Rangy's manner, or in his words, 
 appeared to penetrate the surface situation and 
 give her cause for thought. For a full minute Rangy 
 was conscious that Miss Dick was attempting to 
 study him through the darkness, and he noticed 
 that when she spoke again her voice was cool and
 
 RANGY PETE 285 
 
 even, with no suggestion of its earlier laughter. 
 For an instant that piqued him. He had liked that 
 laughter in her voice, laughter which had come from 
 her gladness hi his presence. But no. He was for- 
 getting for the moment that she was the lure beckon- 
 ing him to the ranks of the Dervishers. He must 
 forget, as well, that he had ever liked the sound of 
 her voice or the flash of her eyes. 
 
 "I don't think I understand what you mean," 
 Miss Dick returned, as though measuring her words. 
 "What advantage could you possibly take of me 
 under the circumstances?" 
 
 Rangy Pete abruptly discovered that the situation 
 was much more difficult than he had imagined it 
 could ever be. 
 
 "I could pretend to be friendly," he replied with 
 an effort which was not apparent in his tones. 
 
 "Pretend?" the girl echoed in some surprise, and 
 it was still evident to Rangy that she did not yet 
 understand; then, as though she abruptly gathered 
 the significance of his words, she exclaimed, "And 
 aren't you friendly?" 
 
 The direct challenge was hardly what Rangy had 
 anticipated. He would have liked to avoid the 
 answer, and in his anxiety to ferret out the least 
 damaging reply he dropped his hands to his side 
 thoughtlessly. Miss Dick evidently overlooked the 
 act, for she still seemed to be listening expectantly 
 for his answer.
 
 286 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Didn't you pretend this morning you were so 
 friendly you just had to see me again?'' the girl 
 prompted. 
 
 "This mornin' ain't now, an' they's a hull lot of 
 things can happen in a few hours," Rangy returned 
 slowly. "They's some things comes in afore friend- 
 ship." 
 
 Through the uncertain silence which followed, 
 Rangy Pete's gaze did not leave that dark smudge 
 which was the outline of Miss Dick. He could not 
 tell what strange phase of thought might be con- 
 trolling the mind of the girl, and in this moment 
 he discovered that he knew nothing whatever of 
 the code which must rule the life of a woman reared 
 and hardened by the brigandage of the Dervishers. 
 She was struggling, he fancied, to understand him; 
 and when she did understand, the answer might 
 come sharp and swift. For she was cold and hard 
 as the buttes themselves. And if, when the mask of 
 his purpose was thrown aside if, when she read 
 the motive of his presence, she should attempt 
 violence what then? 
 
 Rangy Pete's fingers, dangling at his sides, closed 
 and unclosed firmly. If that dark outline upon the 
 rocks beyond were but a man, the answer would 
 be simple. But a woman? What had the code of 
 the plains taught him would be the duty of a man, 
 should a woman strike, wantonly? To strike back? 
 To shoot first? That would be so simple. For Rangy
 
 RANGY PETE 287 
 
 knew there never yet was a woman who could be so 
 swift on the draw as he. 
 
 It was not a matter of speed, but of code. Should 
 any man stand calmly still while a woman shot 
 him down in cold blood? Rangy 's fingers closed 
 and unclosed again. Never, in all the stories of the 
 ranges which had reached his ears, had there been 
 a situation just like this. Never, perhaps, had there 
 been a case just like his from beginning to end. 
 Assuredly, man had not gone out before to teach 
 to woman the lesson which he had thought to teach 
 to Miss Dick. And he had bungled it. Because of 
 that he was standing now, watching for the faintest 
 move of her hands, watching and wondering what, 
 the girl would do when the force of his message 
 reached her brain. 
 
 As he watched, he became conscious that the 
 intensity of darkness was giving place to a softening 
 glow of silver peering in upon them from above the 
 rims of the buttes. It was a glow which threw out 
 in clearer line the form of the girl upon the rock, 
 and which must shortly bathe this whole valley 
 with its radiance. But the girl's features were still 
 hidden. 
 
 "If you do not come in friendship, there can be 
 only one way you have come," the girl spoke sud- 
 denly, with a questioning note in her voice. There 
 was, as well, a youthful surprise in her tones, as 
 though some new and unexpected situation had been
 
 288 RANGY PETE 
 
 thrust upon her. "If you do not come in friendship, 
 you must come as an enemy," she continued more 
 slowly, as one who reasoned aloud, "and if you 
 come as an enemy, you you - " Miss Dick con- 
 trolled her emotions with a palpable effort, "you 
 tricked me back there in the chaparral this morning. 
 You talked your silly words, and I believed you - 
 
 "No, 'twa'n't that," Rangy Pete interrupted, 
 with his gaze still resting upon the girl's motionless 
 hands. "Yer lookin* in the right direction, but 
 they's a cloud in front of you. Yer puttin' it kinda 
 strong when you got me corralled with yore enemies, 
 an' when yer talkin' about playin' tricks, they's 
 folks not so far from here what'd make me look like 
 a amatoor. Beggin' yore pardon, Miss, but I jest 
 been moochin* out here to tell you that you roped 
 me slicker'n I ever been roped before. They's some 
 folks what'd say that Rangy Pete is rope shy; but, 
 Miss, you shore roped me good and plenty. An' 
 now I'm wantin' to tell you it ain't no kind of a 
 thing for a lady to do." 
 
 "You seemed to approve of me quite early this 
 morning," Miss Dick replied in a voice from which 
 all trace of friendship had vanished, ^but that, I 
 suppose, was merely pretence, to help you find out 
 something about me 
 
 "It was before I knew much about you," Rangy 
 broke in. "Before I found out youse one of the 
 slickest persons what ever descended upon Triple
 
 RANGY PETE 289 
 
 Butte. I'm wantin', Miss, to let you know that I 
 recognizes good work when I sees it. I mean slick 
 work. But now that I've took off my hat to yore 
 smooth work, Miss, I'm lettin' you know that I'm 
 here to tell you it can't be done." 
 
 Miss Dick chose that moment to laugh easily. 
 
 "Queer, isn't it," she remarked, "with all the 
 words there are in the English language, you can't 
 find enough to tell me what you mean." 
 
 Laughing at him now, was she? Before, she had 
 mocked him, had thought to toy with his emotions. 
 
 "They ain't no trouble, Miss, finding the word 
 what fits you," Rangy returned, "but I'm kinda 
 hesitatin' to use it. If I said it to a man, they'd shore 
 be a bit of shootin' right away, an' as I don't wanta 
 have to shoot you up, Miss, I'm a hangin' onto my 
 words fer all I'm worth. They's some things what 
 a fellow likes to say without usin' the words, so, 
 Miss, if you'll sorta get it into yore head what I'm 
 wantin' to say, an' if you'll roll it about there a bit 
 at a time it won't hurt so bad as though I's to tell 
 you right out loud, all to once, that youse the 
 smoothest, slickest lady high-flyer I ever run up 
 against." 
 
 Rangy Pete, watching closely through the growing 
 moon gleam, saw that the girl's fingers clenched and 
 unclenched swiftly. Then she sat quite still, as she 
 studied him with a slow, cold, methodical care. 
 Even through the film of the shadowy moonlight
 
 RANGY PETE 
 
 which concealed the details of her features and 
 cloaked her emotions, he could tell that Miss Dick 
 was perfectly calm. In time, he found himself 
 wishing that she had been less cairn, wishing that 
 the iron of the hills had not robbed her of the tem- 
 pestuous passions which should have been hers, 
 wishing for the swift action of an angered woman 
 rather than this cold silent play of a cautious man. 
 In the end, he found himself glad at the sound of 
 her voice, though that voice was calm and unemo- 
 tional as the hills about. 
 
 "I could accept that as a compliment, if I chose," 
 the girl's voice was saying, "or as commendation, 
 or as a rebuke, or perhaps even as punishment. It 
 depends entirely upon the personal viewpoint. There 
 have been times, Mr. Rangy Pete, when a remark 
 like that, coming from a plainsman, would have 
 made me tilt my head a little higher in the air; but 
 somehow you seem different. Just why, Rangy Pete, 
 have you taken advantage of the note I gave you 
 to come over here and pick a quarrel with me?" 
 
 Rangy started to laugh; then he stopped abruptly. 
 Could it be possible, after all, that Miss Dick did 
 not appreciate the seriousness of her conduct? Her 
 words flowed freer and smoother than anything 
 he had ever heard; there was about her a polish 
 and culture which he had never known before; yet, 
 there was, as well, that iron of the buttes which 
 was her mothering.
 
 RANGY PETE 291 
 
 ' 'Cause of the way you roped me into helpin' 
 you steal that ten thousand dollars in gold. I gotta 
 admit - 
 
 Miss Dick laughed with surprising suddenness. 
 There was back of her laugh a gladness, which 
 seemed to say that their threatened misunderstand- 
 ing had been founded upon such a trivial thing, and 
 that now it was all swept aside. Miss Dick continued 
 to laugh, in soft, low notes which fell as harmony 
 upon the growing moonlight; and Rangy Pete, 
 listening through their melody, found hi them no 
 mockery. 
 
 For an instant Rangy's left hand strayed up and 
 toyed with the tip of his left ear. 
 
 "So you admit it was good work, Mr. Rangy 
 Pete," she replied, at length. "I thought you would, 
 when you got a good look at it. But what in the 
 world are you doing up there on your high horse? 
 It wasn't your money. You haven't lost anything 
 by it. Besides, you have my thanks, Mr. Pete, for 
 you were really helpful. Except for you, I hardly 
 believe it could have been done." 
 
 The girl broke off with another low ripple of 
 laughter, and Rangy Pete continued to stare through 
 the moongleam. He stared until in time the growing 
 moonlight threw the girl's countenance out in dull 
 relief against the darkness of the surrounding rocks, 
 until her glance, meeting his across the thinning 
 film of night, came to him with a frankness and
 
 29* RANGY PETE 
 
 confidence, with a mingling touch of humor, which 
 he could not understand. 
 
 "Why don't you say something, and not stand 
 there like you'd lost your tongue?" Miss Dick 
 demanded, with a trace of peevishness in her 
 manner 
 
 Still Rangy Pete did not answer. The revelation 
 which the girl's manner seemed to bring to him was 
 such an astonishing one. It was almost unthinkable 
 that Miss Dick should be what she appeared to be 
 at this moment, that she could be all guilelessness 
 and innocence, seeing no wrong in her actions, that 
 she should be eager for the faint praise which he had 
 spoken, that she could believe that her acts should 
 stand out to be judged solely upon the success they 
 had won. 
 
 "Don't you understand, Mr. Pete," the girl 
 resumed more coldly, "that I am not in the habit 
 of thanking men. Yet I have thanked you, and you 
 only stand there and stare." 
 
 Rangy Pete laughed abruptly, and felt more at 
 his ease. 
 
 Vampirish, and nothing more. This innocence of 
 all wrong-doing was nothing more than a foolish 
 mask which she had drawn over her past to blind 
 his senses and to trick him as she had tricked him 
 before. 
 
 " You're doing it fairish well, Miss Dick, you shore 
 are, but they's no use tryin' to put it over me again.
 
 RANGY PETE 293 
 
 I shore am rope shy this time, and yore innocent 
 little gurglin' laughter ain't gonna get you nowhere 
 after this. They's no use tryin' to pull the wool 
 over this boy's eyes any longer. You used him once 
 to do the fat pickin' for you, an' you did'n care, did 
 you, if it made him a thief or a crook, or what it 
 -made of him? Perhaps yer kinda forgettin' that all 
 some folks back in Triple Butte has got to do is use 
 their head, an' then they'll go around sayin' that 
 Rangy Pete's the person what stole that ten thou- 
 sand. Miss, they's a hull lot of things what friends 
 an' some others can say about me, but they can't 
 say nohow that I've ever been a thief, and, Miss, 
 I don't reckon ever to give them the chance. I don't 
 know if you get what I'm a driftin' at, but if you'll 
 shake them ideas around in yore head a bit you'll 
 see that they ain't no use of you thinkin' you're 
 going to get away with that ten thousand." 
 
 All the laughter left Miss Dick's features, and her 
 eyes grew wide and sober through the moonlight. 
 For a moment it seemed that the delayed flash of 
 passion was creeping to her brain, then, as though 
 with an effort, she became calm again. 
 
 "And what are you going to do about it?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 "That depends a hull lot on you, Miss," Rangy 
 returned slowly. "Back there in Triple Butte, when 
 certain things leaks out, they've got me branded 
 as a crook. I ain't no crook, an' I gotta prove it;
 
 294 RANGY PETE 
 
 that's all they is to it. I been sorta thinkin' that 
 the best way to show 'em I ain't the crook is to 
 take the real crook to them." 
 
 Rangy Pete watched the girl's hands for some 
 swift action, but for a minute or more Miss Dick 
 barely moved. She leaned forward a trifle, and IKT 
 eyes grew wider, as though some new phase of the 
 world were being opened before her wondering 
 mind; but beyond that there was nothing to betray 
 the girl's real mood. 
 
 Rangy laughed softly to himself. It was all acling 
 again, acting the pose of the innocent. 
 
 "Is it, then, such a terrible thing to be a crook?' 
 Miss Dick asked abruptly. 
 
 "I'm thinkin' I already told you they ain't no 
 use trying that girlish, giggly stuff any more. You 
 tried to make a crook out of me, Miss Dick, by 
 takin' advantage of a sort of weak spot in me, an' 
 then you hinted in that little letter that you'd make 
 a recruit out of me and put me on with the Der- 
 vishers - 
 
 "You are the first man who ever got such a 
 chance, from me," the girl interrupted, but Rangy 
 Pete went on, unheeding. 
 
 "I'm not sayin' but what I thank you for the 
 compliment, Miss, but they's only one way I 
 can show you I ain't all them things you took me 
 for, an' that's to take you back to Triple Butte and 
 hand you over to Mr. Stipples."
 
 RANGY PETE 295 
 
 The girl's right hand moved swiftly, but Rangy 
 Pete's voice, calm and emotionless, went on. 
 
 "You see, Miss, while I been standin' here I got 
 this whole thing sized up. That's why you're a 
 lookin' into my six-gun right now. I'm tellin' you, 
 Miss Dick, I don't wanta hafta spoil them purty 
 fingers of yours, but if you start any monkey-work 
 I'll have to shoot one of them into the air. You 
 been askin' me if it's such a terrible thing to be a 
 crook, but that ain't the hull thing, Miss. You 
 gotta use yore head in this. You used me to steal 
 some ten thousand dollars for you, 'cause they 
 happens to be one little streak of good in me and 
 you found it and worked it out. Miss Dick, I ain't 
 got the words to say what I mean, but 'cause you 
 done what you done, I'm takin' you back to Sheriff 
 Stipples, an' I'm gonna tell him all I knows about 
 that ten thousand. They's some things what no 
 person, not even a woman, can do in this world, 
 an' that'll give you somethin' to work yore head on 
 while we're a moochin' it back to Triple Butte. 
 Now, Miss, you'd better stick them purty fingers 
 of yores into the air, fer I'm coinin' over to get 
 yore gun." 
 
 The girl's lips, he could see, had grown tight, and 
 her eyes had narrowed. Her fingers clenched swiftly, 
 then relaxed. She threw her arms into the air with 
 a yielding gesture; yet upon her features there was 
 a look of wonderment.
 
 296 RANGY PETE 
 
 Rangy Pete stepped over and calmly removed 
 the girl's gun from its holster. 
 
 " I just done that to keep you from doin' anything 
 rash," Rangy informed, " 'cause they's some talkin' 
 we gotta do. I been tellin' you, Miss, that I'm 
 gonna take you back to Triple Butte, an' that 
 stands. But I ain't gonna take advantage of you 
 like what you took it of me. I caught you here, 
 kinda under false pretences, so I'm gonna put it up 
 to you square, Miss, to do some thinkin'. You can 
 have about a few hours to think it over; then you 
 can say whether you come back to Triple Butte 
 with me, peaceful like, er if I'm to let you go again. 
 If you think you've done the square thing by me, 
 why I'll shore unrope you, Miss, an' let you go. 
 An* when you've gone, I'll be settin* out after you 
 agin,"an' I won't never stop long's I'm alive, till I've 
 got you. An 5 when I've got you, I'll teach you that 
 you can't take what's good in man and turn it into 
 mud. You gotta learn that lesson some day, Miss, 
 but it's fer you to say when you start. If you thinks 
 I ain't done the square thing by comin' to you 
 thisaway, why, I lets you go again, an' I gives you 
 a fair chance to get away. But if you go, Miss, 
 they ain't nothing in this world what's gonna stop 
 me catchin' up with you some day. That's what I 
 wanted you to know, so you could get to thinkin' 
 right away." 
 
 When Rangy Pete began to talk, he saw that a
 
 RANGY PETE 297 
 
 smile of scorn came to the girl's lips; but shortly 
 the scorn vanished and in its place the lips parted 
 slightly and the eyes widened, as though Miss Dick 
 found herself face to face with something she could 
 not understand. Even when he had finished, the 
 girl continued to stare at him with wide, frank eyes, 
 with eyes which were curiously speculative, inno- 
 cently confused, or shrewdly contemplative, as the 
 quick-flitting emotions raced through her brain and 
 registered their passing in her eyes alone. At one 
 moment, he believed she would laugh aloud in 
 mockery; in an instant there was a softness, a 
 pathetic tenderness in her eyes which seemed to 
 tell him that she was feeling out beyond the only 
 world she had ever known, with all the innocence 
 of a trusting child; in a flash that had vanished and 
 she was looking upon him with a cold suspicion 
 which spoke all too plainly of the iron which was 
 the soul of her mothering hills; in a swift twist of 
 the head that, too, was gone, and in its place there 
 was a mingling of doubt and longing, a grasping 
 out for understanding, a wavering admission that 
 this world of the ranges was an unknown land, 
 with its strange codes and its still stranger men; 
 then that mood in its turn was washed from her 
 features, and the dominating note became the 
 primitive weapon used by all the Eves since ever 
 the world began. 
 As she sat there now, staring upon him so child-
 
 298 RANGY PETE 
 
 ishly, with the curiously innocent eyes which asked 
 for understanding, which recognized neither folly 
 nor weakness in the things of the past, but which 
 spoke only of a life lived in accord with the prompting 
 of nature, Rangy Pete rubbed his eyes slowly and 
 blinked through the moonlight. 
 
 How youth, that great and glowing soul of the 
 universe, youth, with its irresponsible follies and its 
 swift flashes of repentant sorrows, claimed her now! 
 How youth reached out and twined its fingers about 
 her. Youth, with the ameliorating touches of the 
 moonlight which softened the quick flame of her 
 emotions, with the softly creeping moonlit dark 
 which played with the fingers of phantasy about her; 
 youth, youth, that ever glowing, radiant thing, 
 that gently childish, touching thing, claimed her 
 now. Youth? The youth, which he himself had lost; 
 yet which stole back into his veins now with the 
 quickening pulse of wine clamoring at the brain! 
 Youth, with its bright eyes, its wide eyes curse 
 her! 
 
 Youth, with its innocent, guileless lips, with its 
 slow-growing, wondering smile, which seemed but a 
 part of the saddening moonlight, which begged for 
 friendship, which whispered of the loneliness of a 
 lonely soul in the wide world of unreality, which 
 touched some far-off chord in the heart and set to 
 echoing the music of the silent night youth, with 
 its lips which smiled, with the vague moonlight all
 
 RANGY PETE 299 
 
 about, with the silence of the vast world youth, 
 with eyes which sparkled, which taunted, which 
 pleaded youth, youth, with its gladness, its 
 sadness, its innocence; youth set in the stagery of 
 the mystery of the mystic night, with the giant 
 tableau of the giant hills all about; youth, so frank, 
 so helpless, so pleading youth, leaning towards him 
 now, with that smile upon her lips, that moonlight 
 in her hair, that deep, childish wonder in her eyes 
 
 God! The pity of it all. Rangy Pete clenched his 
 hands savagely. This could not be acting, for no 
 acting in the world could reach through the surface 
 of life as the girl's manner was going, no acting 
 could reach beyond the crust of living and peer into 
 the mystic chambers of the soul. Rangy Pete 
 brushed one hand before his eyes. The witchery 
 of the girl and the moonlight! Youth, looking out 
 now, with wide-staring eyes, into a world which it 
 had never seen before. Youth, looking for the first 
 tune upon a new code of life, a code which says 
 that each man has a neighbor and that littleness 
 towards man does not make up the greatness of 
 living. 
 
 As Rangy Pete stood there and watched the 
 fingers of emotion playing their patterns over her 
 moon-lit face, he wondered how many years there 
 would be to her youth. He had not thought of it 
 in just that way before. He had thought of her at 
 first as a glad-faced, yet precocious boy. She had
 
 300 RANGY PETE 
 
 the same slim, trim figure of a growing youth, the 
 same arrogant poise of the head, and up to this 
 moment there had been the same fearless glance of 
 her challenging blue eyes. He had not thought of 
 her before as being gifted with any mere number 
 of years, yet now, with that childish wonder still 
 shining from her eyes, it came to him suddenly that 
 the number of her years would be a vastly important 
 thing. For youth, great youth, must be forgiven 
 much. 
 
 "How old are you, girl?" he demanded abruptly. 
 
 Miss Dick drew back with a gasp, as though the 
 portal to some new universe had been suddenly 
 closed in her face. In a quick fling of her head, the 
 wonder, the childishness, the innocence, were swept 
 from her face; and in their place there came that 
 cold suspicion which was the iron of the boundless 
 buttes. 
 
 "What does it matter how old I am?" Miss Dick 
 challenged calmly, though some of the doubt of 
 youth lingered in her voice. 
 
 Rangy Pete laughed sharply, almost with relief. 
 
 "It don't, now," he declared, "though I kinda 
 figured a minute ago that it had somethin' to do 
 with things. I can see now that it wa'n't nothin' 
 but the moonlight. It's funny what the moonlight 
 can do up here in the hills when you ain't used to 
 it, Miss. Down on the ranges it's kinda different. 
 It don't play no tricks on a person. Now if it ain't
 
 RANGY PETE 301 
 
 \ 
 
 pushin' you too much, Miss, I'd sorta like you to 
 do some thinkin'. How long do you think it'll take 
 you, Miss, to make up yore mind whether you'll 
 come with me now peaceful like, er ii I'm to let 
 
 you go?" 
 
 There was a suggestion of the old flash of inno- 
 cence upon the girl's features when she looked at 
 him again. At least, Rangy Pete found upon her 
 face a definite trace of sincerity which reminded 
 him of youthful innocence. 
 
 "If I go with you now, you intend to give me 
 up to the sheriff and charge me with stealing that 
 ten thousand dollars?" she asked. 
 
 "And prove the charge," Rangy supplemented. 
 "They ain't no gettin' round that, Miss. All I gotta 
 do is step in the box an' tell what I knows about 
 tilings." 
 
 Miss Dick did not dispute the point. She appeared 
 to admit the strength of his reasoning by averting 
 her face and considering the silver-tipped fringe 
 of the buttes. 
 
 "And if I do not go with you now, of my own 
 accord, you will let me go, give me a start, and 
 take your chances of finding me some other day?" 
 the girl pressed. 
 
 "That ain't plumb true with what I said," Rangy 
 corrected. "What I said was that I'd shore round 
 you up, if it took all the days what I got left." 
 
 Miss Dick reflected, while she drummed her heels
 
 302 RANGY PETE 
 
 upon the rock. "How much start would you give 
 me?" she insisted. 
 
 "Any thin' you ask, Miss, from a day to a month. 
 I could'n give you no more'n a month." 
 
 Again Miss Dick fell back upon her own thoughts, 
 but this time she was immersed in their depths for 
 such a length of time that Rangy Pete grew restless. 
 
 "All I'm askin' you, Miss, is to tell me how long 
 you need to make up yore mind. They ain't no 
 hurry about it - 
 
 Miss Dick chose that moment to laugh. "You 
 poor ninny," she declared. "What is the use of 
 you going back to Triple Butte without the ten 
 thousand dollars? You might take me back and 
 tell your little story to the sheriff, but who is 
 going to believe you, unless you take the money 
 back too? Who is going to believe you, especially 
 if I say you knew all the time that the money was 
 in the box of Merrill's apples? You mustn't forget, 
 Mr. Rangy Pete, that they don't grow bandits in 
 the buttes without heads on them. Suppose, after 
 you tell your little story that I tell the sheriff you 
 were in on the deal all the time, and that Jtou got 
 cranky when Dervisher Dick wouldn't give you a 
 big slice of the ten thousand. While I have been 
 thinking, Mr. Pete, I've found about a dozen things 
 I could say to Mr. Sheriff that wouldn't make you 
 look like a town hero back in Triple Butte. Have 
 you thought about that?"
 
 RANGY PETE 303 
 
 Rangy Pete took a few steps forward, then he 
 leaned up against the rock upon which the girl was 
 seated. He tilted back his sombrero so that the 
 moonlight fell full upon his face, and though it 
 softened some of the lines which the desert-life had 
 bitten into his years, it still showed to the girl a face 
 which was calm and fixed, with some of the old 
 calm hardness of the hills themselves. 
 
 "I'm thinkin', Miss, that they ain't anythin' in 
 this whole business what I ain't thought about," 
 he declared slowly. "I've had a whole lot of hours 
 to do my thinkin', and they's only the one thing 
 what counts. Miss, I don't come into this at all. 
 I don't count no more'n a hitchin' post what you'd 
 shoot full of holes. What happens to me don't 
 make no difference nohow. The person what counts 
 is you and you gotta learn, Miss Dick, that you 
 can't mine a man fer all the good that's in him, an* 
 get away with it. So, Miss, don't you get to thinkin' 
 none about what's gonna happen to me. You jest 
 keep rememberin' that I'm gonna take you back 
 to Triple Butte, an* if it ain't tomorrer er the next 
 day, it'll shore be some other day. That's all you 
 gotta think about, Miss." 
 
 For a moment it seemed that the girl's eyes 
 flashed through the moonlight, but if that were true, 
 the flash was gone instantly, and in its place there 
 came a mixture of docility and that youthful innocence 
 which but a short time before had puzzled Rangy Pete.
 
 304 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Very well," the girl conceded, "I will let you 
 know in the morning, seeing that you are so sure 
 about it. Now, will you go on away and leave me 
 alone. I suppose you can trust me not to run away 
 through the night. Or if I did, you would catch me 
 anyway." 
 
 Miss Dick broke off with a suggestion of resentful 
 laughter, and when she tossed her head arrogantly 
 the moonlight flashed back from the glitter of her 
 eyes. Storm-tossed in her moods ! Rangy Pete smiled 
 inwardly, though his lips did not move. She had 
 not dismissed him at once, with the imperiousness 
 which should have been hers. So she was wavering! 
 
 Miss Dick, the arrogant, the cool-headed bandit, 
 was wavering now! Or did it mean that some faint, 
 far-off strain of good within her had been touched 
 by the stand he had taken? Good, within her? 
 Rangy's spirit laughed bitterly, though his face was 
 moveless. Good? Too young for that. Too accursed 
 with the wayward self-interest of youth. 
 
 "Shore, I can leave you here if you want me to," 
 Rangy replied calmly, "but the Merrill punchers'd 
 have you in an hour or two, and I ain't got a hanker- 
 ing for you to fall into Merrill's hands - 
 
 "What does Merrill know about this place?" the 
 girl demanded. 
 
 "Nothing, except that a whole army is following 
 me. Want to hear about it?" 
 
 The swift nod of the head and the flash of the blue
 
 RANGY PETE 305 
 
 eyes told Rangy Pete that Miss Dick had become 
 anxious for the details of the past. So he furnished 
 them, with his own wealth of expression, watching 
 the far-off slumbering shadows of emotion which rose 
 to the girl's eyes as he talked; and he amplified 
 those recent incidents with a definite latent enjoy- 
 ment until suddenly he became conscious of the fact 
 that it was pleasant to stand thus, looking up into 
 the girl's wondering eyes. When he became aware 
 of that, Rangy broke off sharply. 
 
 "So we'd better be mooching it," he concluded. 
 "There's nothing for it, Miss, but to follow this 
 trail we're now on. I'm hoping you know where it 
 goes. I've never been up this draw more'n about 
 ten-twenty miles 
 
 Miss Dick glanced at him swiftly, with a strange 
 light in her eyes, then she looked away again. "All 
 right, we'll go," she concluded. "I know the way." 
 
 Rangy delayed the departure while he returned 
 the girl's revolver, then he mounted the burnt-yellow 
 cayuse, and side by side they rode up the winding 
 valley of the draw, along the bright pathway of 
 silver which the moon laid down before them.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SOMEWHERE behind them, as they rode, Rangy 
 knew, were the hurrying riders of the posse. Far 
 off, along this route which Miss Dick had chosen, 
 was the tangled land of the Dervishers. All about 
 them were the pyramids of buttes, rising up 
 above this magic valley land and throwing into 
 the obscurity of gloom the whole of the world 
 except that one narrow pathway which stretched 
 out clear and crisp in the glow of the moon. The 
 glad light of the moon stole over the rim of the 
 buttes, and it filmed all the air about with a smoky 
 haze which stretched on and on before the eye to 
 even greater distance than ran this silver path- 
 way. 
 
 The air of night was crisp and cool and dry, with 
 no faint suggestion of the heat of the day. There 
 was in it an exhilaration like the touch of wine; 
 there was a response in the quick surge of blood 
 through the veins of youth. Behind them were the 
 riders of the plains, forgotten for a time beneath the 
 magic spell of the butte lands. 
 
 Rangy Pete, who had ridden the ranges and the 
 hills through many a strange day and many a 
 stranger night, knew that this silvering touch of the 
 
 306
 
 RANGY PETE 307 
 
 moon painted the iron of the buttes in its most 
 caressing mood; he knew that never could nature 
 come nearer to bowing before the sentiments of 
 man; and because of that knowledge he glanced 
 over at the silent figure of the girl at his side. 
 
 Perhaps Miss Dick felt something of the same 
 softening touch of the hills, for abruptly she swept 
 off her sombrero, and she rode on silently through 
 the night, with the stray wisps of her hair floating 
 out to catch something of the shimmer of the 
 moonlight. 
 
 Rangy Pete rode just as silently, wondering at 
 the picture of her, as she sat her cayuse with all the 
 superb ease of a careless boy, as the moonbeams 
 toyed about her and tried to paint out for the time 
 being all the drab days of her past. As she rode 
 there so silently, with the magic of the solemn hills, 
 of the deep mysterious shadows, of the glad-glimmer- 
 ing moon, thrown out as a giant stagery about her, 
 Rangy Pete found it hard to believe that this boyish 
 figure, with its quietly solemn face, was the same 
 Miss Dick against whom he had been compelled to 
 declare war. 
 
 Along the winding pathway of the butte lands; 
 through deep patches of night-cooled shadow which 
 by day would be burning to the touch; through the 
 open, boulder-strewn glades where the moonlight 
 glimmered and mingled with the haze of night; 
 following the twisting course of the draw, up sharp
 
 308 RANGY PETE 
 
 grades, and down into the mystery of blackened 
 valleys over which the hesitating haze of night 
 hung like a film-cloud, Rangy Pete made his way, 
 still at the side of Miss Dick the bandit. At times, 
 as they climbed out of some darkened valley through 
 the film of night, as their heads rose up through the 
 vaporish aura which circled over these hill-pocketed 
 valleys, as they came up near the crest of some butte 
 and looked down upon the whole world dancing 
 away before them in the arms of the moonlight, 
 Rangy Pete felt something of the poignant beauty 
 of living. It would be wonderful to wander on and 
 on like this forever, to forget that there was a great 
 world out beyond this magic land of night, to forget 
 that in these same hills there were burning days, 
 to remember only the present with its instant joys. 
 Rangy shrugged his shoulders sharply. If only 
 one could forget the past and the inevitable future! 
 
 In that moment of temptation, a trace of anger 
 came to his bruin. Why should he care about the 
 petty deeds of the world? Life was a gift thrust 
 unasked into the hands of every man, a prize to be 
 lived to the ultimate or a bauble to be cast aside; 
 so what mattered to him the tiny life of Triple Butte 
 or of the plains beyond, as long as there were trails 
 such as this to be ridden at night, with a girl like 
 this whose floating wisps of hair could shine so 
 gloriously in the moonlight? 
 
 Rangy Pete was still pondering that point, when
 
 RANGY PETE 309 
 
 Miss Dick, looking along the moonlit trail ahead 
 to a point where it dipped sharply into the shadows, 
 abruptly broke the long silence. 
 
 "Has it occurred to you to wonder just where 
 I am taking you? " she asked suddenly. 
 
 "Does it matter?" Rangy Pete replied, with the 
 mystery of the night still upon him. 
 
 "That is for you to say," Miss Dick returned, 
 quite without emotion. "A few hours ago you 
 seemed angered at the mere thought of joining the 
 Dervishers. Even the suggestion seemed to touch 
 you upon a raw spot. Does your answer mean that 
 you have changed your mind?" 
 
 "Not as long as I got a mind of my own," Rangy 
 returned. 
 
 "Then you really are quite simple after all," 
 Miss Dick went on, with calm emphasis, "and it 
 does matter where I happen to be taking you. Sup- 
 pose I should tell you that we passed a Dervisher 
 camp in the last valley, that there is another in the 
 valley immediately ahead, that there is no way out 
 of this trail but forward or back, and that all I need 
 to do to bring a swarm of men about me is to fire off 
 my revolver. What happens then to your boast to 
 take me out to Triple Butte? You know there are 
 men among the Dervishers who would jump to do 
 anything I ask, big or small " 
 
 " An' a bit of shootin' would look small to them," 
 Rangy suggested.
 
 310 RANGY PETE 
 
 Miss Dick seemed temporarily angered. She 
 remained in silence while they passed through the 
 darkened valley, while they climbed its ridge and 
 on into a series of valleys and hills beyond. 
 
 " What I mean is how do you know I am not 
 leading you into the Dervisher camp? " she asked at 
 length. "There are any number of men there who 
 would - 
 
 "That's what I'm hopin' you'll do," Rangy 
 returned imperturbably, " since you been a talkin' to 
 me about that ten thousand dollars in gold, I been 
 doin' some thinkin', an' I agree with you, Miss, that 
 I'd otta take that money back with me when we 
 go in to Triple Butte. So, Miss, if it ain't askin' too 
 much of you, I'd shore be obliged if you'd lead the 
 way to the Dervisher camp an' show me where they 
 got that ten thousand cached." 
 
 "What would you do with it, if you got your 
 fingers on it in an easy way like that?" Miss Dick 
 demanded. 
 
 "Same as if I got it in a hard way, er by havin' 
 to shoot a couple of persons. It's all the same to me. 
 It'd have to go back to the person it belongs to, an' 
 that happens to be Rough House Dan Merrill. 
 They ain't no fun handin' ten thousand of any thin' 
 over to Dan Merrill, 'less they happens to be lead- 
 coated, but seein' 'at it was Merrill's stuff you hadda 
 go an' steal, they ain't nothin' for it but to give it 
 baok to him."
 
 RANGY PETE 311 
 
 Rangy 's dissertation was interrupted by a low, 
 but mocking, ripple of laughter. Coincidently Miss 
 Dick spurred her cayuse forward for a few rapid 
 strides, until she led the way, with Rangy Pete some 
 paces behind, then she slackened to their old pace, 
 but she did not look backward. Even through the 
 moonlight, Rangy could be quite sure that the ripple 
 of laughter had grown in its dimensions, and that 
 there was something in the situation which had a 
 strongly humorous appeal to Miss Dick. 
 
 Through the traveling of some paces, Rangy 
 wondered just where was the foundation for humor; 
 then abruptly, from a sidling fling of the girl's head, 
 he knew. Miss Dick did not believe him. She did not 
 credit the seriousness of his intentions, so far as that 
 ten thousand dollars were concerned. She regarded 
 it simply as a crude attempt to get possession of the 
 spoils. Because of the iron teaching of the butte land, 
 she was incapable, perhaps, of appreciating that 
 man could do the thing which he had planned to 
 do. 
 
 For a time, the pity of that seemed to rob the 
 moonlight of some of its glory. But it did not rob 
 Miss Dick of any of her outward appeal. As she 
 rode on now through the brilliant patches and 
 through the deep shadows, a light, careless air of 
 brigandage came to her lips. She hummed it with 
 the free spirit of one without care, and to Rangy Pete, 
 riding in the background, it seemed that for the
 
 312 RANGY PETE 
 
 time being she had forgotten all about him and his 
 problem. 
 
 The pity of it! For Miss Dick, under other con- 
 ditions, could have been one of the desires of the 
 world. He was conscious of the free, youthful grace, 
 the abandon of her, as she rode on ahead, singing a 
 song of the piracy of the hills, scorning the conven- 
 tions of man, and mocking the good within him as 
 being nothing but a tawdry strain. 
 
 Though the girl's voice was low, it came to him 
 clearly through the night air, with a taunting 
 texture in its notes, with laughter almost at the 
 surface of the words. There was a poise to her head, 
 he could see, which was more mocking even than 
 the laughter; but there was nothing about Miss Dick 
 which robbed her of any of the appeal of her moonlit 
 beauty curse her ! A wonderfully young and 
 virile thing, humanly appealing, alluring, yet accursed 
 with the sin of the butte lands drawing him away, 
 inch by inch, from the strength of his purpose. 
 He had been right, days ago, when he had told 
 himself that within her fair and appealing body 
 there was a vampirish soul created for man's 
 destruction no, he would not have it so - she 
 was not luring him away from his purpose; she was 
 goading him on to do his duty. 
 
 Rangy Pete spurred his cayuse almost angrily, and 
 he rode up beside the girl. She glanced at him care- 
 lessly, but the lilt of song did not drop from her lips.
 
 RANGY PETE 313 
 
 Something prompted Rangy to wait until long 
 after the song was finished, so that in the end it 
 was the girl who spoke first. 
 
 "I am half inclined to take you to the gold, to 
 show it to you, and then see what happens," she 
 declared suddenly, with an air which hinted at 
 strange possibilities for the future, with a definite 
 sporting spirit which implied that the incident could 
 not be without its human interest. To her, it would 
 be a game. 
 
 "Mabbe you don't like the Dervishers, er perhaps 
 you got a big spite against them," Rangy returned 
 easily. 
 
 "There are some I could see rubbed out," the 
 girl returned, as she caught the meaning of his taunt; 
 then abruptly her thoughts seemed to drift away. 
 
 "If they's to be a reception party, I would'n advise 
 you none to have any friends among them present," 
 Rangy interrupted Miss Dick's mood. "This's just 
 a li'l tip I'm handin' to you, Miss, so any time you 
 wants to run on ahead and kinda herd yore friends 
 outa the way, you just let me know." 
 
 Miss Dick glanced at him sharply, with a flash in 
 her eyes, but Rangy Pete could see that there was 
 irresolution upon her features which she tried to 
 conceal, but which for the moment was the most 
 compelling phase of her. 
 
 So she was still wavering. She could not under- 
 stand him, Rangy Pete, than whom, in his own
 
 314 RANGY PETE 
 
 esteem, there was no easier person in the whole 
 world to understand. His life, as he viewed it now, 
 had been simple and direct, in its loves as well as in 
 its hates, in its words as well as in its acts. While 
 hers? God only knew what strange weavings of 
 complexities the iron of the buttes and the teachings 
 of brigandage had builded into her. 
 
 Still, it did seem to be his place to help her to 
 understand. 
 
 "Miss Dick," he resumed, "they shore looks to 
 be some big thoughts a troublin' themselves in that 
 head of yores, so I'm gonna tell you one or two 
 things what mabbe'll help you to get a rope on them 
 unruly ideas. What I want you to know is that 
 when I say I'm gonna do a thing, I do it. I allus 
 say what I mean, near's I can find the words to say 
 it; an' the worst little thought you got in yore head 
 at this minute is the one that mabbe I'm try in' to 
 put somethin' over you about that ten thousand. 
 Miss Dick, you can take it from me, I would'n 
 touch that ten thousand with a hundred foot lariat 
 if I had'n come to see that it's just as much my job 
 to get that money back as it is to take you in to 
 Triple Butte. I'm thankin' you, Miss, for remindin' 
 me about the ten thousand. Mabbe it ain' easy for 
 a bandit to understand, Miss, but I'm wantin* you 
 to know that I ain't had enough trainin' to be able 
 to look in more'n one direction at once, an' they 
 ain't room in my head for more'n one big idea at
 
 RANGY PETE 315 
 
 a time. When you get that rounded up, mabbe 
 you'll see that the only thing for you to do is to 
 show me that ten thousand, an' then come back to 
 Triple Butte peaceable like." 
 
 Again Miss Dick looked at Rangy Pete, and she 
 studied his face calmly through the moonlight. This 
 time there was no suggestion of laughter or mockery 
 in her manner. There was, instead, a demand to 
 know the truth. But back of her eagerness to under- 
 stand, Rangy was conscious of the working of some 
 inbred vein of suspicion. That, of course, was the 
 result of her Me among the Dervishers. For the 
 moment, as he thought of that, a touch of pity came 
 to his eyes. Pity in his eyes a sharp flash of anger 
 upon the face of the girl. 
 
 Promptly Miss Dick spurred her cayuse forward, 
 and she raced on through the alternate light and 
 shadow of the butte land. The quick, impetuous 
 mood of her! 
 
 So she had given him her answer. She would not 
 ride back to Triple Butte in peace. It was for him 
 now to follow her, to camp upon her trail through 
 the long days and nights, to come up with her again 
 sometime in the future; and then, when he found 
 her, to teach to her that code of mankind. 
 
 Rangy rode silently through the night, with the 
 problem upon him, and with a strange and new 
 gnawing of pain about the heart. It was queer how 
 the magic and the charm should have fled from the
 
 316 RANGY PETE 
 
 mellowness of the moonlight. It was strange how 
 these buttes should become nothing but drab sen- 
 tinels peering into the night; and it was stranger 
 still how the thought of Miss Dick, the bandit, 
 should bring to his brain the keen thrill of promise 
 and the deep torment of despair, like the flashing 
 and vanishing of some ultimate prize before the eyes. 
 
 Through the night he rode, with the pangs and 
 the promise of the future in constant conflict within 
 him; and then, when a vague restlessness among 
 the shad ings of the eastern sky warned him of 
 brilliant sunrise, he came to a dividing point in the 
 trail. 
 
 One draw angled to the north, the other to the 
 south, towards the Pass which marked the last 
 barrier of the Dervishers before one came to that 
 tangle of hills and valleys beyond. Rangy dis- 
 mounted and studied the trail carefully. 
 
 A moment later he shook his head in a worried 
 way at the burnt-yellow cayuse. Miss Dick, by 
 turning to the north, would have avoided all those 
 stray riders who had been strung out through the 
 butte land for days now in search for Dervishers. 
 She would have avoided all those Snaky Y punchers 
 who had gone south the night before in search for 
 him. To the north lay freedom, unhampered and 
 untramelled. 
 
 To the south lay the full menace which the butte 
 land could draw unto itself. To the south lay the
 
 RANGY PETE 317 
 
 clearer, untangled trails, where man, caught between 
 the impassable barriers of the cliffs, would be trapped 
 helplessly and hopelessly between whatever forces 
 chose to press upon him. And Miss Dick had turned 
 to the south! 
 
 The strange, unreadable whim of her! For the 
 girl must have known that those southern trails, 
 being closer to Triple Butte than was this northern 
 pass, must already be peopled with the stray posses 
 from the Snaky Y and with the venom of their 
 purpose. 
 
 Rangy Pete's brow grew furrowed as he looked 
 into the south through the growing sunlight, and as 
 he thought of the dangers which lay along the trail 
 which Miss Dick had taken, dangers for her and for 
 him. 
 
 Then he shaded his eyes and peered back along 
 the draw he had just ridden. Back there, thrown 
 up clearly against the sharpening rays of the sun, 
 were the jagged rock and the rugged outline of crude 
 cliffs. Back there the trail rose and fell and yes! 
 Back along that sun-splayed draw there were tiny 
 black shadows crawling along through the morning 
 light. Black shadows which wove and twisted their 
 way among the boulders, shadows which toiled, and 
 which, even as he looked, drew slowly towards him. 
 
 Again the furrow came to Rangy's brow, and the 
 swift glance which he swept over the butte land was 
 one almost of angered protest.
 
 318 RANGY PETE 
 
 Behind him was the posse which had dogged him 
 all through the previous day. In it would be Dan 
 Merrill, smarting under the many lashes which had 
 scourged him of late, but smarting most of all 
 because of the loss of ten thousand dollars in gold. 
 
 In Merrill's heart there would be but the one 
 burning purpose of revenge; and at Merrill's back 
 there were a score at least of those creeping black 
 shadows which in time would turn into men keen 
 to do the other's bidding. To the north lay freedom, 
 undoubted and undisputed. 
 
 To the south, here at his very feet, was the mouth 
 of that draw which was the neck of a bottle pointing 
 towards the trap of the butte lands. Miss Dick had 
 ridden into it, calmly and uncaring. 
 
 As for himself? Again that burning about the 
 heart, that cry of pity in his brain, that demand 
 that he see once more the blue well of light which 
 shone down into her unreadable soul. 
 
 With a gesture of impatience, Rangy Pete slapped 
 the astonished cayuse with his sombrero and he 
 rode swiftly and surely down the storm-tossed trail 
 to the south, into the vast and vague hours of the 
 unknown future. For off there, in the uncharted 
 spaces of time and place, the call of the bandit girl 
 was luring him.
 
 CHAPTER XH 
 
 INTO the neck of the bottle which was the trap 
 of the butte lands rode Rangy Pete, conscious as he 
 rode of the net which must be weaving about him. 
 To the north, that way lay freedom, with the open 
 trails ahead. To the south, somewhere along this trail 
 he was now threading, or in the Pelican draw, or in 
 the draws beyond, there must be the keen riders of the 
 Snaky Y, spurred on by the savagery of Dan Merrill. 
 
 In the whole logical summary of events, there 
 could be nothing less. He, to all practical purposes, 
 was the bandit who had stolen that ten thousand 
 dollars in gold, and he, being now an outcast, would 
 be the just victim of any rider from the Snaky Y. 
 And, unless Merrill were utterly devoid of reason, 
 these draws to the south, leading through to the 
 Pass and to the land of the Dervishers, must have 
 been blocked hours ago yet behind him, to the 
 north, lay freedom. 
 
 After that one swift decision, Rangy gave those 
 trails to the north barely a thought; for it was the 
 lure of Miss Dick, the bandit, which was dragging 
 him on, the lure and the consciousness that the 
 dangers into which he was riding so confidently 
 could be no less vital and poignant to her. 
 
 319
 
 320 RANGY PETE 
 
 Through the day he rode, over the tumble of hills 
 and valley, past the pyramids of gray rocks and the 
 sentinels of turret tips, climbing slowly but steadily 
 through the unpitying light of the sun which poured 
 its searching rays over the butte land. Slowly that 
 trail climbed upward as it twisted and wound its 
 way about the pyramids and turrets of rock. 
 
 For great stretches the whole trail, both forward 
 and back, was lost completely to view; at tunes it 
 hid behind the turrets of the buttes; again it lay 
 within their shadow, but always, whenever the clear 
 stretches of world lay behind him, he could see those 
 crawling black shadows which seemed to grow larger 
 with the passing of the hours. 
 
 "They're gaining, boy!" Rangy informed the 
 uncaring cayuse. "You've had a bit too much work 
 to do these past days." 
 
 With that consciousness upon him, and the full 
 knowledge of its significance, Rangy Pete kept his 
 mind upon the future and his eyes upon the trail 
 before him. For off there Miss Dick must eventually 
 ride into the ranks of the punchers, unless, per- 
 chance, she really knew what she was doing after 
 all. 
 
 Through some minutes that thought startled him. 
 Could it be possible that the girl was riding to the 
 rendezvous of the Dervishers somewhere to the east 
 of the Pass, and that in their numbers she would 
 find safety? For a time that startled him; then it
 
 RANGY PETE 321 
 
 soothed; then it brought fresh anxiety. For Miss 
 Dick, among the Dervishers, would be lost to him 
 more completely than as though the butte lands had 
 swallowed her up. 
 
 With this anxiety upon him, Rangy watched 
 sharply the dun spaces of the forward trail; and 
 because of that he made his discovery, in the advance 
 of the afternoon when the rays of the sun were 
 already slanting and were biting with duller tongue. 
 It was simply some dark object lying in the center 
 of the trail. Rangy checked the cayuse suddenly. 
 A gauntlet lying there before him! A gauntlet 
 fringed at the edge, and therefore some woman's 
 toy! And to whom could it belong other than Miss 
 Dick? But why should the girl's glove be here in 
 the middle of the trail? 
 
 Rangy dismounted and picked up the gauntlet; 
 and the feel of it brought a grin to his lips. It would 
 be a memento, to return to her some time, in the 
 near or far-off future. It would - 
 
 Rangy's fingers contracted in astonishment, for 
 between their tips was some hard, metallic substance, 
 caught within the folds of the gauntlet. Swiftly he 
 shook that object loose, and instantly an expression 
 of amusement flashed over his features, for that 
 metallic substance was nothing less than a gold coin. 
 Part of Merrill's ten thousand, of course! But what 
 should it be doing here? 
 
 Rangy's eyes roved quickly about the tumbled
 
 322 RANGY PETE 
 
 landscape before him, but within the limit of their 
 gaze there was nothing but the drab, sun-baked walls 
 of the cliffs and this jumble of rock which littered 
 the trail. 
 
 But no! There was more than that. There was 
 this scarred face of the trail where the hoofs of 
 many horses had flayed it. Miss Dick had been 
 held up! That was plain now to an intelligence 
 trained to reading the significance of small things. 
 Held up, by punchers or by her own Dervishers? 
 It was no more than he had feared; yet now, with 
 its surety upon him, a sudden flush of anger mottled 
 his cheeks. Anger towards any person who dared 
 to challenge the pathway of Miss Dick! 
 
 For a tune Rangy walked about the rock-strewn 
 trail, and this action eased the fever of his brain 
 until he was able to laugh at his own folly. Then 
 he returned to the burnt-yellow cayuse and resumed 
 the trail, more slowly, more cautiously than before. 
 
 That glove, he could see now through his saner 
 moments, might mean any one of many things. 
 It might be a taunt. It might be a warning; it might 
 be a cry for help. 
 
 Towards the waning of the afternoon he came to 
 the divide where this trail ran into the Pelican draw. 
 From that time forward he moved more swiftly. 
 The Pelican, he feared, must be peopled with many 
 riders, and now the urge was upon him to see who 
 were those riders with Miss Dick, and to learn if
 
 RANGY PETE 323 
 
 that message of the gauntlet were an appeal or a 
 taunt. 
 
 For an hour he rode thus, until in tune the whole 
 world about him began to change, until the barren- 
 ness of the buttes gave way grudgingly to a stunted 
 tree growth which seemed to spring out of the bare 
 face of the rock itself. As he rode he climbed ever 
 higher, until at length he rounded a sharp rock in 
 the draw, and there he pulled the cayuse to its 
 haunches with a startled jerk at the reins. 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty!" he exclaimed. "You shore 
 been doing good work, yellow boy." 
 
 For there, in front of him, toiling up the opposite 
 slope, were four riders. There could be no doubt 
 that one of them was Miss Dick. Riding away from 
 him, towards the Pass! That, according to the 
 writing of the plains, could mean but the one thing - 
 that those three strange riders were Dervishers, and 
 that the girl, in riding into the trap of the butte lands, 
 had ridden with intent and in full knowledge of her 
 motives. 
 
 Rangy became more than ever convinced of that 
 as the minutes dragged away into an hour, and as 
 those four riders continued their steady tramp 
 towards the retreat beyond the Pass. Through that 
 hour he trailed them, though circumstances com- 
 pelled him to keep such a discreet distance between 
 them that he was able to read but little meaning into 
 their actions, other than that they were Dervishers
 
 324 RANGY PETE 
 
 making their way into the safety zone of those 
 forested hills which lay beyond the rim of the buttes. 
 
 During that hour he came to the juncture of the 
 Pelican and the Arrowhead trails. The latter draw 
 was a narrow one, ambling in from the direction of 
 the Double K and the Triangle O ranches, and like 
 so many of its brethren it linked up with the Pelican 
 on this main route through to the Pass. But the 
 Arrowhead, Rangy Pete knew, was the last of those 
 converging trails which bore down upon this one 
 cut through the southern buttes, so that a man 
 caught between this juncture point and the Pass 
 would become the easy victim of those who had 
 trapped him. There was a price which could be 
 taken, of course; but in this moment of crisis, with 
 the lure of Miss Dick upon him, there was nothing 
 in the price of battle which could equal one glimpse 
 of her oval cheeks. Yet was it a trap after all? 
 
 The calm and confident manner in which those 
 four Dervishers made their unhurried way towards 
 the Pass, would seem to indicate that they had but 
 little to fear. Could it be possible that the posses 
 of the Snaky Y and of Triple Butte had not yet 
 reached this point, and that accordingly the route 
 was clear all the way through to the forests beyond? 
 The attitude of those four Dervishers would imply 
 that. Still, the northern trail which he and Miss Dick 
 had taken from Ike Collander's store was miles 
 farther than the direct journey to Triple Butte, and
 
 RANGY PETE 325 
 
 unless Merrill's brain really had been befuddled by 
 the fumes of anger, this trail should have been 
 blocked hours ago. 
 
 Rangy dismounted, and with much effort he 
 climbed to an elevated point upon the cliffs from 
 where he could get a vista of the trails behind him. 
 The draw he had just ridden was clear of men or of 
 horses, but Rangy knew there was nothing in that 
 but false security. There were so many sharp dips 
 and sudden valleys and queer turnings that a thou- 
 sand men might well be hidden within the range 
 of his eye. 
 
 But the Arrowhead trail at the right, ambling 
 listlessly into the Pelican! It stretched out cleaner 
 and less tangled before his gaze, so that from this 
 elevated position he could see its course through 
 long stretches of sun-burned trail. For minutes he 
 studied those open areas, with hands shading his 
 eyes, and with his trained gaze studying even the 
 smaller shadows. In the end he uttered an exclama- 
 tion which was partly approval and partly incom- 
 prehension. 
 
 "Shore," he informed himself, "there's another 
 whole flock of riders coming in the Arrowhead, 
 miles back! But what I can't understand is why 
 they weren't here long ago." 
 
 Apparently, so far as he could now judge, he was 
 ahead of the pursuing posses. Some strange whim of 
 fate had delayed them. But it did not matter now.
 
 326 RANGY PETE 
 
 The only thing which counted was the fact that 
 chance had brought him safety, and that Miss Dick 
 was off there just a short distance before him; and 
 he felt that if he played the game cautiously, he 
 might get a glimpse of her face once more, in spite 
 of that surrounding bodyguard of Dervishers. At 
 the worst, he could follow them into the land beyond 
 the buttes. 
 
 When Rangy mounted once more he rode swiftly, 
 so that a few minutes later, when he rounded a curve 
 in the draw, he was obliged to jerk the burnt-yellow 
 cayuse to a slithering halt. For the four Dervishers, 
 in the calmness of their characteristic presumption, 
 had dismounted, and were apparently getting ready 
 for a meal and a rest. From the shelter of a rock, 
 Rangy studied the situation before him. 
 
 The Dervishers had chosen their position well. 
 With a clear stretch of the valley before them, they 
 could see across a long strip of the Pelican draw 
 which they had just traveled, and accordingly would 
 be well warned of the approach of any of those pur- 
 suing parties. But doubtless this halt had been 
 chosen because of some queer streak of innate 
 daring; perhaps it was to draw the pursuit in the 
 direction in which they would have it go; but what- 
 ever might be the strange whim of the Dervishers, 
 there was another thing which brought greater 
 torment to Rangy Pete. It was the demand that 
 he should see again the girl who had mocked him.
 
 RANGY PETE 327 
 
 Perhaps chance would show him the way to whisper 
 a few words to tell her that he would never give her 
 up; perhaps even he might steal her from the shelter 
 of those attending riders. 
 
 With the thrill of that thought upon him, Rangy 
 studied carefully the formation of the rock of the 
 buttes. A moment later he gave a little exclamation 
 of content. For if he knew anything about butte 
 conformation, the twisting of this trail meant that 
 the draw must almost double back upon itself at a 
 point just a few yards beyond that sentinel tip where 
 the four Dervishers had taken up their stand. 
 
 Rangy laughed to himself softly. It would be 
 possible for him to climb the cliffs, cross the top of 
 the ledge, and swing down into the Pelican draw 
 at a point past the position of the Dervishers. If he 
 could not approach them from the front, across this 
 open valley, he could at least come upon them 
 from their unguarded side, and if, perchance, Miss 
 Dick 
 
 Rangy worked swiftly as he discarded unnecessary 
 equipment carrying as weapons only his pair of 
 six-guns and an extra belt of cartridges and as he 
 climbed the shelving face of the draw. Fifteen 
 minutes of labor put him at the top, from which 
 point he could look across the thin ridge; and the 
 first glance told him that he had been right, that 
 the trail doubled back upon itself. A quarter of an 
 hour later he was across the ridge, and was looking
 
 328 RANGY PETE 
 
 down upon the draw at a strategic position between 
 the Dervishers and the Pass. 
 
 Slowly, with infinite care, RaDgy began the descent. 
 It was difficult, more difficult than the climb had 
 been, so that a full half hour had slipped away before 
 he once more stood in the rocky trail of the draw. 
 
 The need for haste was upon him now. There 
 had been much lost time, so much that at any minute 
 those four riders might round the corner of the trail. 
 In this instant, with the whole future hanging upon 
 the margin of seconds, Rangy began to appreciate 
 the folly of his undertaking. He was here, cut off, 
 horseless, between the Dervishers and their haunts, 
 with nothing left to him but a pair of derringers and 
 his natural wiles. 
 
 He must hurry now. He counted the seconds as 
 he ran. Doubtless they would come upon him 
 abruptly, just as he reached that corner of the trail, 
 perhaps before. Perhaps those Dervishers would 
 catch him here in the open of the draw! 
 
 Rangy ran until he found that his breath was 
 coming in quick, stabbing jerks. This would never 
 do. It left his hand unsteady. So, deliberately, with 
 a grip of his will, he slackened his pace; but his 
 eyes never strayed from that turn in the draw 
 around which the drab noses of the Dervisher cayuses 
 might be poked at any second. 
 
 A hundred paces now! Fifty! There was the 
 rock before him, with the sharp twist in the trail.
 
 RANGY PETE 329 
 
 Rangy's breath came firmer, and his hand gamed 
 its old, iron calm. He threw his sombrero aside, 
 and he peered around the face of the rock. Then a 
 great sigh slipped from his lips. 
 
 That party of four were not even preparing for 
 the trail. There they were, directly in front of him, 
 a hundred yards or more away. Their backs were 
 towards him, and they seemed to be studying the 
 distant slopes of the draw along which they had so 
 recently journeyed. They were watching, doubtless, 
 for the advancing armies of Triple Butte, waiting 
 to taunt them even as the girl had so lately taunted 
 him. 
 
 Rangy abruptly found that his fingers were 
 clenching savagely along the butt of his six-gun. 
 
 "Jumping mavericks!" he exclaimed, under his 
 breath. "There's something wrong." 
 
 Even at a hundred yards distant, Miss Dick's 
 position had seemed at first glance to be too rigid 
 to be natural; but now? he was quite sure of it. 
 Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was 
 tugging slightly at her bonds. Or was she rubbing 
 the rope steadily against the rock? The girl's som- 
 brero was gone. The back of her head was towards 
 him, and he could see that little wisps of her corn- 
 silk hair had escaped from their bonds and were 
 floating about her head like a halo. 
 
 The three men were in front of her, with their 
 backs towards her; and now, when one of them
 
 330 RANGY PETE 
 
 glanced about, the girl stopped that rubbing move- 
 ment of her hands. Words passed. What they 
 were, Rangy could not say; then when the man 
 turned his face away, to study the trail once more, 
 the girl resumed that chafing movement of the rope 
 against the rock. 
 
 In that instant, the flash of a new thought came 
 to Rangy Pete. Could it be possible that the Der- 
 vishers had heard of his meeting with Miss Dick at 
 The Crags? Were they punishing her for that ; and 
 if so, would it not be for himself they were watching 
 that back trail so patiently? Again Rangy laughed 
 to himself, with low, cautious elation. 
 
 Then the man who had spoken to Miss Dick 
 tossed aside his sombrero, and he shaded his eyes 
 to peer into the east. To Rangy Pete, the silhouette 
 of the man's back, unhatted as he was, seemed 
 somehow vaguely familiar. But he could not place 
 the figure in his memory. Doubtless it would be 
 the same man he had seen in the doorway of Tony 
 Burke's saloon but a few days ago; it would be one 
 of those men who had swaggered then the man 
 turned again to speak to Miss Dick, and again the 
 girl's figure drooped. 
 
 "Gawd!" The feverish exclamation slipped from 
 Rangy Pete's lips, and he stood for a time staring 
 in bewilderment. 
 
 The man's profile was towards him now. He 
 could see the outline of the features clearly. He
 
 RANGY PETE 331 
 
 could see the great nose, the sharp chin, the tangled 
 wisp of hair which always fell down over the man's 
 forehead. That wisp of hair, how he hated it. 
 If only he could forget that hatred, for the man's 
 face was not strange to him. Rangy 's fingers grew 
 steady, and a firm smile came to his lips. 
 
 That man who was leering now at Miss Dick, 
 whose smile was not the smile which any man 
 should use towards a woman, had a face and a figure 
 which were familiar to him. And the man was not 
 a bandit, such as the rangemen defined the word. 
 It was Bill Sonnes. Sonnes, the right-hand man of 
 Dan Merrill, of the Snaky Y. Bill Sonnes, sitting 
 there leering at Miss Dick with an offensive air of 
 possession! Why did he hate the man? Sonnes, 
 who had always been objectionable Sonnes who 
 had captured Miss Dick, and who threatened to 
 spoil his, Rangy Pete's, plan to teach the bandit 
 girl that there are codes of mankind which must be 
 respected. Sonnes, with a smirk upon his face, 
 leaning now just a trifle towards the girl, negligently, 
 but knowingly. Sonnes, with that ugly big nose 
 and the ragged wisp of hair, smirking, priding him- 
 self that he had a way with women perhaps he 
 did have a way with Shifty Lizz of the Burke saloon 
 - but with this girl, a bandit, whose hands were 
 tied behind her back 
 
 Rangy Pete found that it was with an effort that 
 he kept a grip upon himself. If only he could forget
 
 332 RANGY PETE 
 
 that he hated the man's big nose. The presumption 
 of Sonnes, to have taken a captive whom he had 
 reserved for himself. For it was plain that Miss Dick 
 was a captive. Even now, with Sonnes' face turned 
 again to the east, the girl was once more chafing the 
 rope against the rock. She wanted her freedom; 
 that was evident. 
 
 She had also wanted her freedom from him, and 
 had taken it. But had she regretted it? She had 
 at least thrown that glove upon the trail. In appeal, 
 or warning? 
 
 Yet for Miss Dick, what did it matter whether 
 he or Bill Sonnes were her captor? Nothing, except 
 that with Sonnes it would be a crude enforcement 
 of the law; with himself it would be the exemplifica- 
 tion of a code. 
 
 The two men with Sonnes, with faces turned con- 
 stantly to the east, were unfamiliar in their pose. 
 Doubtless they would be of the younger clique of 
 the Snaky Y men, perhaps whose mettle had not 
 been tested other than upon the ranges. Tools in 
 the hands of Sonnes, no doubt. Otherwise they 
 would not have held their gaze so steadily upon the 
 east while Sonnes ogled the captive bandit. 
 
 Abruptly Rangy found himself vaguely wondering. 
 These three men had captured the girl many miles 
 back along the trail. Why had they ridden farther 
 into the butte land, instead of turning back along 
 the route to Triple Butte? It was that which had
 
 RANGY PETE 333 
 
 misled him, which had made him believe they were 
 bandits; but now the answer was plain. They were 
 merely waiting for the belated posses to join them. 
 
 Miss Dick abruptly stopped the restless movement 
 of her wrists, as Sonnes swung about until his leering 
 lips were within a foot of the girl's face. There was 
 a searing fire burning through Rangy 's veins; yet 
 through it he was able to summon a grim smile to 
 his lips. 
 
 Sonnes, the fool, smirking at the bandit girl! It 
 would be almost justice, upon Sonnes, if Rangy 
 were to step aside. If only he could loosen those 
 bonds about the girl's wrists, and then leave Sonnes 
 to her mercy. Sonnes, the ogler, who had a way 
 with women that would be a fine game to watch, 
 Sonnes against Miss Dick Sonnes at the mercy 
 of the trickster Sonnes, being warped and twisted, 
 until in the end he did the girl's bidding Sonnes, 
 the smirking fool! 
 
 Again that hot racing of blood through Rangy's 
 veins. Sonnes, with the huge, ugly nose, and that 
 brazen, legible manner! 
 
 That distance between them a hundred yards, 
 dotted here and there with boulders which perhaps 
 would turn aside an angry bullet ! A hundred yards, 
 with the backs of four people towards him! 
 
 Another warm surge of blood throbbed in his veins 
 as Sonnes elbowed his way in a languid pose towards 
 the girl. For a moment the blood seemed to burn
 
 334 RANGY PETE 
 
 to his finger-tips, and he found there a strange itching 
 to see if he could shoot that hundred yards and kill 
 Bill Sonnes with a single shot. But that would be 
 the crude way. 
 
 Swiftly, with sudden resolution, Rangy slipped 
 his boots aside; he loosened the six-guns in either 
 holster, then he dropped to his knees. Slowly, with 
 elaborate care, he began to crawl towards the shadow 
 of the nearest boulder. This was not in line with 
 the course of the draw. So much the better, for it 
 threw him rather more towards Sonnes' back, and 
 less within his line of vision on those occasions when 
 the man smirked at Miss Dick. A false step, the 
 rattling of a fragment of rock that would mean 
 battle battle, three to one, with the girl in the 
 line of his fire. For a moment Rangy hesitated. 
 The undertaking, under such conditions, was folly, 
 utter folly. Folly only in case he made that rattling 
 of a rock, or that misstep. 
 
 Slowly he crept forward again. He hugged the 
 ground, dragging his body snakelike along, brushing 
 from his course every pebble which threatened 
 danger. Sonnes in front of him, leering more per- 
 sistently now, more confidently! More languid and 
 careless, as well, as he leaned intimately towards the 
 girl. How the blood surged in Rangy 's veins. Except 
 for those two punchers, whose faces and whose 
 reputations were unknown, it would be much simpler 
 to end it all with one swift shot.
 
 RANGY PETE 335 
 
 Ninety yards now, with the first boulder in front 
 of him. He could make it with a single shot Miss 
 Dick working more feverishly at those lashings 
 when Sonnes' face was turned out towards the east. 
 Afraid, was she? Alarmed at the persistent ogling 
 of Bill Sonnes, at that slow, insinuating manner 
 with which he was bridging the distance between 
 them, almost imperceptibly, meaningly. 
 
 Twenty-five yards to the next boulder, a larger 
 one where he could rest a little from this snakelike 
 position of his limbs, a boulder which threw him 
 still more behind Sonnes' back. 
 
 Rangy crept forward again. This time, for the 
 half of the distance, Sonnes' gaze was studying the 
 east, and the girl's hands worked with steady insis- 
 tence. He could see harder lines upon her face when 
 she glanced down for an instant in a vain effort to 
 discover what progress she had made; and for the 
 balance of the distance, while Sonnes watched her 
 insolently, Rangy could see the contempt in the 
 girl's poise. 
 
 Rangy reached the boulder, and peered out eagerly. 
 From this position it should be easier now. He was 
 almost at Sonnes' back, even when the man turned 
 towards the girl. But there was danger, he felt, in 
 that instinctive sense of alarm which warns all 
 animals, man and beast alike, a latent sense which 
 might carry its message to Bill Sonnes. 
 
 There was the possibility that Miss Dick might
 
 336 RANGY PETE 
 
 glance around in those moments when Sonnes' face 
 was turned away, and that she might see him. Once 
 or twice already she had turned her head, feverishly, 
 hurriedly, in an effort to look at those lashed bonds, 
 but she had not raised her eyes. Should she raise 
 her eyes now as he crawled forward, he would be 
 directly in her line of vision. What then? 
 
 Again Rangy crawled forward. He must take his 
 chance that Miss Dick would prefer him as a captor 
 rather than Sonnes. 
 
 Steadily, with patient persistence, with sounds 
 so slight that he scarcely heard his own movements, 
 Rangy Pete crawled forward, from boulder to 
 boulder, and still Sonnes continued to bask in the 
 girl's presence. Still the backs of the well trained 
 punchers remained turned towards Sonnes and his 
 quarry, and now that Rangy had drawn so close, 
 he could see that there was a gap of a good ten yards 
 between Sonnes and the others. 
 
 Twenty-five yards distant now! 
 
 A shot in the back? No! In the past few minutes, 
 he had grown to hate Sonnes too much for that. He 
 had grown to hate the man's reptilian manner, that 
 nameless something which showed in his whole 
 pose. A shot in the back would not be enough for 
 Bill Sonnes. 
 
 A steady look in the eye would be much better - 
 a steady look which would warn Sonnes of the 
 inevitable call of Death, a look which would give to
 
 RANGY PETE 337 
 
 him at least one moment of terror of the future. To 
 die suddenly would not be enough for the man whose 
 manner could insinuate such things to a girl with 
 hands lashed behind her back. He had earned, as 
 well, a period of horror through which he must con- 
 template the surety of Death. 
 
 The thought of that left Rangy 's fingers itching 
 still more. Miss Dick turned her face aside, and 
 there was hatred, and some terror, in her pose. He 
 could see that now; just twenty yards away. 
 
 He must look into Bill Sonnes' eyes first, before 
 the battle came. And yet there were two punchers 
 just ten yards beyond Bill Sonnes. 
 
 Rangy crawled forward with still greater caution. 
 It would not be a sound now which would warn 
 Sonnes. It would be a message of that hatred which 
 was burning in his heart. 
 
 Twenty yards more. Miss Dick turned suddenly. 
 The message of a presence had reached her. She 
 glanced up, and her eyes met his. For the merest 
 fraction of time it seemed that the girl's eyes were 
 puzzled; then a swift change swept over them, whose 
 meaning Rangy could not read. She turned her face 
 away just in time to meet Bill Sonnes' glance. 
 
 She met the man's glance fairly, and for the first 
 time since Rangy had watched them, Miss Dick made 
 some faint response to Sonnes' advances. She leaned 
 towards him just a little, and when the man stretched 
 forward more eagerly than he had yet done, the
 
 338 RANGY PETE 
 
 movement threw his back still more towards Rangy 
 Pete. In Rangy's heart there was a strange thrill 
 of admiration for the girl's quick wit, mixed with a 
 deeper conviction of hatred for the man Sonnes. 
 
 If only the girl would continue to play the part 
 she had suddenly chosen, he would still look Death 
 into the man's eyes. 
 
 Rangy pulled his body forward with barely more 
 sound than was made by the passing breath of air. 
 Looking across the shoulder of the man Sonnes, he 
 could see into the girl's face. She, in turn, was 
 looking at Sonnes, and even as Rangy watched, he 
 could see the suggestion of an encouraging smile 
 creeping into her eyes. Playing her part, admirably, 
 cleverly. Sonnes reached out his arms, and still 
 the smile lingered about Miss Dick's eyes. He must 
 hurry now, if he were to save the girl from the dis- 
 grace of Bill Sonnes' arms. 
 
 Ten yards now, eight, five. He dare not risk 
 more, for even as he pulled himself into a sitting 
 posture, Sonnes' arms were closing about I he girl. 
 Beyond him, the two punchers still sat like statuettes, 
 careless of the scene behind them. 
 
 Three to one! A smile came to Rangy Pete's heart, 
 though his lips were straight and firm as he lay one 
 six-gun across the curve of his hip. Then he tapped 
 lightly upon the rock with the knuckles of his left 
 hand. Still Sonnes did not heed, the crudeness of 
 his senses being wrapped up in a contemplation of
 
 RANGY PETE 339 
 
 what this sudden yielding of Miss Dick might mean 
 to him. 
 
 Rangy tapped more loudly. The faint sound 
 carried through the short space and it reached Sonnes' 
 brain. His unclosed arms dropped swiftly from 
 about the girl, his body jerked back a foot or two, 
 and he shot one swift glance across his shoulder. 
 
 As his eyes met the stern glance of Rangy Pete, 
 they held there for a swift moment of astonishment. 
 Then the astonishment vanished, and there came a 
 quick realization of the position in which he found 
 himself. 
 
 Five yards away was Rangy Pete, looking into 
 his eyes that cold, unmistakable message, which 
 meant the ending of all feuds, the ending of life and 
 of all things else for one of the two. 
 
 The end of all things for one of them ! And Rangy 
 Pete held over him that thin edge of advantage 
 which may mean life or death when desperate men 
 face each other across the cold muzzles of weapons. 
 
 Yet only ten yards away were two men. One word 
 of warning, just the lifting of his voice, and those 
 two men would be here, fighting at his side. But 
 Bill Sonnes knew the futility of that one word of 
 warning. Rangy Pete's eyes told him that. They 
 told him that no matter what the world might hold 
 for the rest of mankind, it held nothing for him but 
 this short moment of terror through which he must 
 contemplate the cold approach of Death Death,
 
 340 RANGY PETE 
 
 stealing upon him, looking into his face from the 
 eyes of Rangy Pete, a cold, merciless death, just as 
 cold and unscrupulous as he had felt a moment ago 
 towards the girl at his side. She had been his prey. 
 And now God in Heaven, but he knew the game 
 of Rangy Pete! 
 
 One word, the faintest sound of warning, and 
 Rangy would shoot him down coldly. But he knew 
 it was not for that word of warning that Rangy 
 was waiting. It was for that instinctive jerk of 
 Sonnes' fingers which would tell him that an enemy 
 was reaching for his gun. 
 
 There before him sat Rangy Pete, with the horror 
 of a blank future in his eyes. His gun was not in 
 sight, but Sonnes felt that it could not be far from 
 that right hand which dangled so carelessly at his 
 side. Rangy Pete was a fool, even to take his hand 
 from his gun. That was not what he would have 
 done. He would not have sat thus, torturing another 
 with the surety of death. 
 
 How his fingers itched to reach for his gun. How 
 his tongue quivered to shriek out a warning. Yet 
 either act meant death. God ! Death, with a scurvy 
 past tormenting him already with its memories. 
 
 To move! To speak! If only he dared to take his 
 gaze away from Rangy Pete's face. So that was 
 Rangy 's game. He knew it now. It was an old game 
 which he himself had tried upon more than one of 
 his victims. It was that old, cruel game of badgering
 
 RANGY PETE 341 
 
 the other man, until, in desperation, he drew for his 
 weapon. In swift memory, the faces of men leaped 
 before him, men whom he had tortured in just this 
 same way. One of them had been a youth, a mere 
 youth. He could see even now the whiteness which 
 came to that youth's cheeks, the cold sweat of death 
 which leaped to his forehead when first he came to 
 realize Bill Sonnes' purpose. And now he, Sonnes, 
 was staring that same death in the face, in just the 
 same way. God! The torture of it! The horror! 
 
 He did not want to die. Life, just a moment ago, 
 had been too keenly athrill with promise. It had 
 been whispering to him strange things, promising 
 him a taste of those joys which he knew must be 
 found somewhere upon the pages of the life of man. 
 
 Death, staring him in the face. The joy of stolen 
 fruits, mean, sordid fruits, the joy of their promise 
 and now Death staring at him! 
 
 If only he dared to reach for his gun, he might 
 beat Rangy to the draw. If only he dared to shout 
 aloud, he might distract Rangy 's attention by the 
 confusion of numbers. If only he had the courage 
 to sit still and stare back at Rangy Pete. 
 
 Suddenly some of the fear left Sonnes' face, and 
 in its place came cunning. Why had he not thought 
 of the way out before? 
 
 "I'll surrender," he whispered in a thin voice 
 which barely reached Rangy Pete. 
 
 A look of disgust flashed over Rangy's features.
 
 342 RANGY PETE 
 
 He was conscious that in this moment the thin 
 margin of advantage had slipped from him. Instinct 
 told him that treachery lurked behind the mild 
 tone of Bill Sonnes; but the code of the plains forbade 
 violence towards a man who yields. 
 
 "You pore idiot, what you wanta go and do that 
 for?" he returned in a peevish whisper. "All right. 
 Hands up." 
 
 Sonnes began to raise his hands slowly, cautiously, 
 but some thread of sound or some message of Rangy's 
 presence must have been carried to those watchers 
 beyond. For abruptly one of them turned about 
 and glanced curiously over his shoulder. He was a 
 middle-aged man, with features seamed with the 
 life of the plains. For a small fraction of time he 
 stared, then a low exclamation escaped his lips. 
 That sound reached Bill Sonnes. It reached Rangy 
 Pete. It drew, as well, the gaze of a much younger 
 man at his side, a mere youth. 
 
 With a quick, darting glance, Rangy's eyes left 
 Sonnes. He knew the folly of that. He knew the 
 trickery of Sonnes. He knew the fatality of events 
 which were sweeping down upon him in swift crisis. 
 
 Even as his eyes met those of the older man for 
 an instant, even before they flashed away again, 
 Rangy was conscious that Sonnes' right hand had 
 begun that downward sweep which meant battle. 
 
 Instantly Sonnes' voice cut sharply through the 
 silence.
 
 RANGY PETE 343 
 
 "At him boys! Fast!" 
 
 The flash of instinct rushed Rangy Pete into battle. 
 Chance had swept all other choice from him. 
 
 Sonnes' fingers were working now with their old 
 swift skill, with the goad of fear in the brain which 
 drove them on. And Rangy felt that he had lost 
 that thin margin of advantage which had been his. 
 There was but the one chance, one chance to do 
 battle against three. And that was his sidelong 
 fling, with its shot from the ground. 
 
 Even as Sonnes' gun whipped into sight, Rangy 
 flung his body sideways, to carry him farther from 
 the girl, and as he sprawled at length upon the 
 ground he fired across his hip. At the same instant 
 Sonnes' gun barked, and he felt the whine of the 
 bullet as it cut through the air at the place where 
 his body had been but a second before. Sonnes fired, 
 just the once, then his body sagged sluggishly to 
 one side, and past him, in the open space beyond, 
 Rangy caught sight of the two punchers. 
 
 The one, the youth, was staring in amazement. 
 The other, the middle-aged man with the grim face, 
 was drawing his gun, and so swift had been the 
 passage of time that his fingers had not yet reached 
 the butt protruding from the holster. 
 
 Rangy fired again, from the ground. The six-gun 
 dropped clattering from the man's hand. 
 
 "Put 'em up, Kid," Rangy spoke crisply. "They's 
 times when it's a heap better to start wavin' towards
 
 344 RANGY PETE 
 
 yore future home on high than it is to go a clawin' 
 fer a gun. And this is one of them times that's 
 better, Kid. If you wasn't so young and tender, 
 I might go to shooting you up a bit, but mabbe it 
 ain't yore fault that you been flockin' about with 
 coyotes like Bill Sonnes. Now keep 'em there, Kid, 
 and you'll most mabbe live to tell the youngsters 
 all about how you got held up once by a real bad 
 man." 
 
 As Rangy talked, he rose to his feet briskly, 
 crossed over and took possession of all the visible 
 weapons. 
 
 "Got any guns hid out on me, gents?" he 
 demanded, and the older man hurried an assurance 
 that they were weaponless. 
 
 "Then you ain't learned all you mighta learned 
 from that coyote," Rangy declared. "Youse two 
 gents just herd yoreselves together and don't get 
 frisky while I attends to some other business." 
 
 Rangy's other business happened to be a visit to 
 Miss Dick. He stooped over without looking into 
 her face, and cut the lashings from her wrists. 
 
 "You'll have to 'skuse me, Miss, for hornin' my 
 way into this little party, but I kinda got the idea 
 that them punchers wasn't being nice to you. If I 
 made a mistake, all you gotta do is show me the 
 door." 
 
 "I think you had better stay and look after the 
 men you shot," Miss Dick returned, with an attempt
 
 RANGY PETE 345 
 
 at calmness which did not entirely conceal her relief 
 at the turn of events. "That person looks as though 
 he was dead." 
 
 Rangy crossed over to the tumbled heap which 
 had once been Bill Sonnes, which had looked so 
 daringly at the captive girl. He stooped over, put 
 his hand inside Sonnes' shirt, then faced Miss Dick 
 again. 
 
 "They's only one guess, Miss," he spoke humbly, 
 "and you've got it right. Now I'll be looking after 
 this other gent what stepped in front of something 
 hard. Gosh A'mighty! " 
 
 The exclamation was due to the action of the 
 youthful puncher who was now running across the 
 narrow strip of trail between them and the cayuses. 
 Almost as Rangy looked, he leaped to the back of 
 one of the animals and began to race towards that 
 sharp rock marking the turn in the trail around 
 which Rangy had so recently stalked them. Rangy 
 stooped, picked up a Winchester from the pile of 
 arms, and followed, on foot. 
 
 When he crossed that hundred yards and stood 
 looking into the straight trail beyond, he saw that 
 the youthful rider was a bare hundred yards ahead 
 of him. 
 
 Rangy raised the rifle, and through the sights he 
 caught the clear outline of the flying figure. He saw, 
 as well, that the youth turned and looked over his 
 shoulder, and even at that distance he fancied he
 
 346 RANGY PETE 
 
 could read the wave of fright which suddenly swept 
 over the other's features. 
 
 With a sigh, Rangy Pete lowered the rifle and 
 stood looking at the figure flying before him. 
 
 Shortly there was a faint noise at his side, and 
 when he swung about quickly he saw Miss Dick 
 looking at him curiously. 
 
 "You could have. Why didn't you?" she 
 demanded, in the tone of one who seeks for 
 knowledge. 
 
 "Never could hit anything on the move," Rangy 
 evaded. 
 
 "Was it because he was so young?" the girl 
 insisted, ignoring the obvious evasion. 
 
 "Let's go back and see if any more of them's got 
 the running habit," he evaded for the second time. 
 "I s'pose we'd soon better be on the move, because 
 Merrill's army ain't so far behind." 
 
 The girl followed beside him as he returned to the 
 scene of recent battle, and there they found the 
 middle-aged puncher sitting on the ground trying 
 to bandage his wounded wrist. 
 
 "Needin' help, pard?" Rangy asked; then he 
 bent over and assisted the man to rearrange the 
 bandages. When he completed the work, he again 
 found Miss Dick's eyes upon him curiously. 
 
 "As I been sayin', Miss, we'd better be slopin'," 
 Rangy made haste to forestall any questioning. 
 "Smithers, you stay here and keep a wake over Bill
 
 RANGY PETE 347 
 
 Sonnes. You'll skuse me, pard, if I take the liberty 
 of taking yore arsenal along with me. How soon can 
 you be ready, Miss?" 
 
 "Where are you taking me?" she asked quietly. 
 "Back to Triple Butte, as you said you would do?" 
 
 "Shore. I ain't gonna break no promises. But 
 first of all we gotta be moochin' it out of the way 
 of Dan Merrill's army. He's a curious cuss, that 
 Merrill. He mightn't understand why Bill Sonnes 
 is a lyin' there all crumpled up and why Smithers 
 won't be good for anything for two-three months. 
 He's impetuous like, and apt to be resentful. So, 
 Miss, we'll be joggin' along, soon's you are ready." 
 
 "I am ready now," the girl returned quietly. 
 
 "Then if you wait till I get Yeller Boy, we'll be 
 ridin' right along." Rangy spoke as he started out. 
 
 The yellow cayuse was hidden beyond a bend 
 in the trail, so it was quite possible, he appreciated, 
 that when he returned, Miss Dick might once more 
 be making a natural move in search for freedom. 
 He had played fair with her. He had told her of his 
 unaltered purpose. He had given her a chance to 
 escape. 
 
 Yet when again he caught a glimpse of the recent 
 scene of struggle, he knew that Miss Dick had not 
 taken advantage of his absence. By the time he 
 reached camp, she was mounted upon her cayuse 
 and was waiting somewhat impatiently to make a 
 start.
 
 348 RANGY PETE 
 
 "We'll be following the little boy cow-puncher 
 to see that he don't get into no danger," Rangy 
 tried to speak lightly though he was conscious of a 
 strain. "Look after things, Smithers, till we get 
 back." 
 
 Side by side they rounded the sharp rock in the 
 trail which led onward to the Pass, and the moment 
 they were beyond sight of the back trail, Miss Dick 
 asked : 
 
 "You say there is a Merrill army behind us?" 
 
 "They shore is. A big one. Must be most nigh 
 fifty riders, not more'n two hours back of us - 
 
 Rangy found himself interrupted by a low ripple 
 of laughter, laughter without merriment. 
 
 "What's troublin' you, girl?" 
 
 "Nothing, except that there is a Merrill army in 
 front of us as well. That is where that boy rider 
 has gone." 
 
 "Gosh A'mighty," Rangy exclaimed. "You sure 
 of that?" 
 
 Miss Dick nodded, and in the quick jerk of her 
 head Rangy recognized a sudden consciousness of 
 power. 
 
 "How far in front of us?" he asked slowly, aware 
 that in the mere asking he lost some of his pose of 
 self-reliance. "Which way are they riding?" 
 
 "Four or five miles. It isn't more than that to 
 the Pass," Miss Dick returned, and the strange 
 lights in her eyes had abruptly become an acknowl-
 
 RANGY PETE 349 
 
 edgment of Rangy's dependence upon her knowl- 
 edge. "I expect they're hiding somewhere around 
 the Pass, if they haven't found out already that the 
 Dervishers all got through last night. If they've 
 found that out, that boy cow-puncher will probably 
 meet some of them coming back 
 
 Miss Dick paused abruptly, and the sidelong 
 glance of her eyes, the queer little twist to her lips, 
 were a challenge to his boast of efficiency. For a 
 brief space she watched him, and as Rangy Pete 
 did not take up the unfinished sentence, she put 
 that challenge into words. 
 
 "They have us trapped on both sides. How are 
 you going to get us out, Mr. Rangy Pete?" 
 
 There was the barest suggestion of lingering over 
 the word us; yet that, he felt quite sure, was nothing 
 but mockery. But there was an appealing something 
 in her manner of which he could not be quite so 
 certain. 
 
 Still, he could not answer the girl's question, for 
 she had stated obvious truths. He knew there was 
 an army behind. She said there was an army in 
 front. The only other way of escape was over the 
 face of the buttes; and in his brief climb of some 
 minutes ago he had learned the futility of attempting 
 to escape over the top of the world. That in the 
 end must mean death, slow death from thirst and 
 starvation. If it were possible to take cay uses along, 
 there might be a hope; but to climb those buttes
 
 350 RANGY PETE 
 
 alone, to face the cold of the nights, the blistering 
 heat of the days, to stumble on and on, knowing 
 not the way, waiting only for death - 
 
 Rangy Pete shook his head suddenly. 
 
 "Then tell me why you rescued me from that 
 horrible puncher you called Sonnes," Miss Dick 
 spoke more crisply. 
 
 For the barest fraction of a minute, as Rangy's 
 gaze wandered over the features of the girl before 
 him, as he noticed again the shimmer of her hair, 
 the firm, full lines of her features, as he studied for 
 an instant the deep blue of her eyes, there flashed 
 into his mind a thought which in the past few hours 
 had not been a stranger to him that Miss Dick, 
 under other conditions, must really be one of the 
 greatest prizes which earth could give to man. He 
 knew that for an instant that thought softened the 
 lines of his features which he had hoped to keep 
 firm; so he answered quickly, lightly - 
 
 "You shore didn't think I'd let Bill Sonnes take 
 you back to Triple Butte, when I'd promised to 
 take you." 
 
 "That is the only reason, so you could keep that 
 foolish promise of yours?" 
 
 "Certain," Rangy nodded deliberately. 
 
 "You lie. Now how are you going to get me out 
 of this?" 
 
 Miss Dick spoke impatiently, but for some strange 
 reason which Rangy did not stop to analyze, her
 
 RANGY PETE 351 
 
 abrupt violence of tongue brought to him a memory 
 of that old thrill which had once warmed the blood 
 of him in her presence. She knew that there had 
 been something personal in that rescue, that he was 
 not merely the machine Gad, but he was merely 
 a machine, trying to teach to her 
 
 "I asked you how you are going to get me out 
 of this," the voice insisted at his side. 
 
 " Seeing that I'm dead certain they's a big enough 
 army behind us to gobble us up, we'll be movin* 
 on ahead. Come along." 
 
 Miss Dick responded with alacrity. She urged 
 her cayuse forward, and a minute later they were 
 cantering briskly along the butte land draw. Uncon- 
 sciously, as though born to the ranks of those who 
 rule, the girl took the lead. Rangy was content that 
 she should do so. For that permitted him to watch 
 the shimmer of her hair, the quick little fling of her 
 shoulders, the arrogant poise of her head, the lithe- 
 ness of her figure, and the hundred and one other 
 things about her which made up that attractiveness 
 of which before he had been but vaguely conscious. 
 Now, he was more than conscious of it. There was 
 an intensity to that consciousness which brought a 
 feeling of constriction about his heart, a slight 
 burning in his veins, a racing of his blood, which 
 made him suddenly glad that Bill Sonnes' arms 
 had not closed about her. There was a smothering 
 sensation in his breast, which left a slight haze in
 
 352 RANGY PETE 
 
 his brain. But that would be the result of his per- 
 sistent efforts through two days and a night. Surely 
 bodily weakness was not seizing him now, at the 
 moment when most he needed strength. Still, that 
 tightening of the chest, that smothering feeling did 
 not leave him if anything it grew more acute 
 when he caught the strange, challenging lights in 
 Miss Dick's eyes as she glanced at him from time 
 to time over her shoulder. There was something 
 queer in the girl's eyes. Could it be possible that 
 she, too, was breaking down under the strain of 
 their long activity? Queer that he had not thought 
 of that before. For her activity had been as pro- 
 longed as his. Strange lights in Miss Dick's eyes! 
 Smiling even, to herself. Yes, they were both break- 
 ing down under the strain. Beautiful, even, when 
 the slanting rays of the sun played upon her in this 
 manner. Yes, he was glad now that he had shot 
 Bill Sonnes. That had been an evil leer upon 
 Sonnes' lips; that had been an evil thought which 
 stretched out the man's arms in embrace. How 
 Rangy's blood raced warmly as he thought of that. 
 Of course it would be mountain fever which had 
 taken a grip of him. Was it that fever which made 
 him fancy that the girl's eyes were shining when she 
 looked back at him, or was it the way the gleam of 
 the sun-rays caught them? How bronzed were the 
 girl's arms; how perfectly she sat the saddle. That 
 did not speak of weariness.
 
 RANGY PETE 353 
 
 "Have you quite decided where you are going to 
 take me?" Miss Dick's voice brought him back to 
 an abrupt consciousness that there was a problem 
 before him. Strange; but for a moment he had quite 
 forgotten it. 
 
 "We will have to take a chance that no one 
 catches us before dark. Shorely we'll be able to slip 
 by them in the night." 
 
 "It will be moonlight," the girl called back, as 
 she urged her cayuse forward. 
 
 It would be moonlight, with the shimmering 
 moonlight of the butte lands which would search 
 out every nook and cranny, which would close every 
 avenue of escape unless chance should play a part. 
 Rangy was beginning to appreciate his helplessness 
 in the face of circumstances, when the girl spoke again. 
 
 " Besides, they will be after you long before dark. 
 At the most, you have the time it will take a man 
 to ride four miles and back again." 
 
 Rangy did not answer. Escape, for a man alone, 
 might be possible. He shook his head doggedly, 
 almost angrily, at the dun walls of the buttes which 
 stood up cold and impassive, careless of the problems 
 of man, indifferent to his future, but holding him 
 nevertheless to this narrow pathway along which 
 the punchers must shortly ride. 
 
 "Have you anything to suggest?" the girl 
 demanded, with another backward glance over her 
 shoulder.
 
 354 RANGY PETE 
 
 The girl's eyes were sparkling. Almost, he fancied, 
 there was delight in their depths, delight in his 
 inefficiency in this emergency. 
 
 "I got a couple of six-guns and a Winchester," 
 he returned. 
 
 "Silly," the girl laughed. "Is that all?" 
 
 "It's good for a half dozen of them Merrill 
 riders." 
 
 "Don't boast, for they would bury you before 
 morning, if they bothered to bury you at all. Is 
 that all?" 
 
 "Somethin's bound to turn up," Rangy replied, 
 though conscious of the girl's increasing delight. 
 
 "Then you admit you are stumped?" Miss Dick 
 insisted. "Yet, if I were alone, the matter for me 
 would be simple - 
 
 Rangy jerked the burnt-yellow cayuse to a sliding 
 stop. 
 
 " They ain't nothin' like considerin' yoreself alone, 
 Miss. If you know a way to get outa this mess, I'll 
 shore be turnin' my back." 
 
 Miss Dick's cayuse stopped some ten paces 
 beyond him. 
 
 "I wasn't saying that I wanted to be alone," she 
 laughed softly. "I was just hinting that sometimes 
 when a man falls down, perhaps a woman could find 
 the way through." 
 
 "Well?" Rangy questioned, and he began to 
 wonder if it would be objectionable after all to be
 
 RANGY PETE 355 
 
 dependent upon this girl, whose soul had been nur- 
 tured by the iron of the buttes, but whose eyes were 
 now dazzling with the lights of merriment. 
 
 "I owe you a debt. Perhaps I can cancel it. You 
 saved me from from Sonnes. If I save you from 
 the wrath of Sonnes' friends, the debt will be can- 
 celled, perhaps?" 
 
 "That debt? You ask no more?" 
 
 "More? What more is there that I could ask?" 
 The wonderment in the girl's manner was confusing 
 to Rangy 's self-esteem. There was this manner in 
 which he was dogging her steps, there was his 
 promise to teach to her the code of mankind; and 
 yet she had not asked that he forego them. 
 
 "What more could I ask?" the girl pressed, j 
 
 "I kinda thought mabbe you might want me to 
 lay off taking you back to Triple Butte." 
 
 "Oh," the girl exclaimed softly, "but I could not 
 ask that. It has been too amusing. You agree to 
 the other? There is but little time to lose." 
 
 Rangy Pete nodded, for the abrupt shock of his 
 vanity did not encourage speech. 
 
 A moment later they were galloping side by side 
 along the draw, and this time Rangy Pete, though 
 still conscious of the girl's charms, fought off the 
 sentiment of her presence. For he, the self-reliant 
 Rangy Pete, had become dependent upon a mere 
 girl, perhaps even for his whole future. He tried to 
 turn his eyes away, but found that they strayed
 
 356 RANGY PETE 
 
 constantly towards her; he tried to focus his mind 
 upon the peril of the future, but that only drew him 
 back to wonder about this plan which lay in the 
 girl's brain; he tried to drive her from his thoughts, 
 and in attempting that, he but found himself caught 
 more hopelessly in a wild tangle of thought of which 
 Miss Dick was the background. He noticed now 
 how confident she had become, how masterful, and 
 yet, back of that, there was still that gleam of amuse- 
 ment in her eyes whenever she looked towards him. 
 There was amusement, an impersonal thing, as 
 though life were at last holding out some of the fruits 
 of reward. 
 
 How long he rode thus, studying the girl at his 
 side, wondering at the quick, flashing moods which 
 controlled her, Rangy Pete could not say. He knew 
 only that she swept him back to the present with a 
 quick gesture. 
 
 "I told you there wasn't much time to spare," 
 she exclaimed, with a little touch of excitement in 
 her voice, as she pointed to a ridge in the butte land 
 trail before them. 
 
 There, through a gap in the buttes, was a clear 
 vision of the trail beyond. It stood out clear-cut 
 before him, perhaps a mile distant, perhaps a half 
 mile. But more important than the distance was 
 the fact that a string of riders were racing down 
 towards them. 
 
 Miss Dick rode on, with Rangy at her side, and
 
 RANGY PETE 357 
 
 in a minute more the vision of the distant trail was 
 lost to view. 
 
 "The boy puncher didn't lose much time," the 
 girl exclaimed. "He must have found the Merrill 
 gang riding this way. Can you get a little more 
 speed out of that cayuse, Mr. Pete?" 
 
 Rangy Pete did. He used the spur on the burnt- 
 yellow cayuse, keeping at Miss Dick's side only with 
 an effort, and wondering all the time at the meaning 
 of this strange ride into the arms of the enemy. He 
 had seen the enemy through the gap in the buttes, 
 and this pace must bring them together; and what 
 then? It was a strange rescue which Miss Dick 
 was conducting, and yet, except for a slight heighten- 
 ing of the color in her cheeks, there was nothing 
 about the girl's manner to indicate that she had 
 anything at stake. 
 
 For an instant there flashed into his mind a sus- 
 picion of trickery. Perhaps these would not be the 
 Merrill riders after all. Perhaps they were Der- 
 vishers; and if they were? With an effort he forced 
 that suspicion aside. He studied the girl's manner 
 once more, and he could be certain now that the 
 dappling of red which painted the bronze of her 
 cheeks was born of elation. 
 
 Once she glanced across her shoulder into his 
 eyes, and the message which lay there was one of 
 comradeship. For the meantime, all other moods 
 had been swept away. This was a race which they
 
 358 RANGY PETE 
 
 two were running out together; it was a thrill of 
 body which responded to the spirit of youth, and 
 in the outward token of that thrill which lay in the 
 girl's eyes there was a surety that behind it all was 
 no trickery. There was comradeship for this moment, 
 the closeness of comradeship which shares dangers 
 alike. There was the spirit of youth which had 
 risen up again to hold her in its grasp, which had 
 painted into her cheeks and her eyes the sparkle of 
 life, which had 
 
 "I knew we'd make it," Miss Dick exclaimed 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Make what?" Rangy asked, as he loosened the 
 Winchester at his side. For he could see that unless 
 something happened speedily, all they would make 
 would be a clash with the enemy. 
 
 "The Pelican cave, of course," Miss Dick replied. 
 "See it, off there?" 
 
 The direction indicated was to the left, and it 
 seemed to Rangy Pete that the girl was pointing 
 up a draw which branched off this main trail, but 
 which, so far as he could see, offered no outlet. 
 
 Still, Miss Dick turned her cayuse directly towards 
 it, and as she did so, from the distance to the right 
 there came the distant clatter of horses' shod feet 
 striking the bare rock. Miss Dick looked anxiously 
 over her shoulder, but the Merrill punchers were 
 not yet to be seen. 
 
 In front of him, as Rangy Pete rode, was this
 
 RANGY PETE 359 
 
 offshoot draw from the main trail. Even at close 
 range, it looked like a ragged, tapering cone cut out 
 of the face of the buttes, but where it should have 
 wound its way on and on through the tangled ways 
 of butte land, it ended instead in a sharp wall of 
 rock. It began like an ordinary butte land valley 
 winding its way through the jumble of buttes, and 
 it ended a quarter of a mile farther on in a dun, 
 placid face of rock. From the distance, that wall 
 of rock looked like a sheer one, impossible for man 
 to climb in this haste which was now upon them; 
 yet towards the left, perhaps half way from the ground 
 to the top of the cliff, there was a black spot which 
 seemed but a smear upon the gray face of the rock. 
 
 It was towards that black spot that the girl was 
 riding, sitting sideways in her saddle and searching 
 with her eyes the trail to the right, from which 
 direction came the clatter of horses' hoofs. And now 
 she had begun to talk, quickly, in jerky little imper- 
 ative sentences, sentences which robbed Rangy Pete 
 of all thought of command. 
 
 "Must make it fast. Half mile behind at the most. 
 Passing echo rock. A stiff climb, but we'll make it, 
 if you do what I say. When I dismount, you work 
 fast. Throw off saddle and bridle. Turn cayuse 
 loose. Take all food from your saddle bags and put 
 it in mine. Get your rope ready now. Here's one 
 from my saddle. Tie the ends together. When we 
 get there, fasten one end around my saddle the
 
 360 RANGY PETE 
 
 other to your belt. I'll climb first because I know 
 the way. Drag the saddle up after us by the rope." 
 
 Miss Dick stopped as abruptly as she began, and 
 Rangy found himself wondering at the quick com- 
 mand of her. It was almost as though she had 
 enacted this scene many times before. There was 
 about her, as well, a confidence which told Rangy 
 that it had not even occurred to her that his views 
 might not fit in with her plans. He looked at the 
 face of the cliff, grown closer now and rising stark 
 above them, and he wondered why that heavy 
 saddle must be dragged up to that black hole which 
 surely must be the mouth of the Pelican cave. 
 Still, in spite of that, he found that he was tieing 
 the ends of the ropes together, just as Miss Dick 
 had told him to. 
 
 Abruptly Miss Dick leaped from her cayuse, and 
 began to work at the saddle and bridle with swift, 
 sure hands. While working at his own, Rangy found 
 that there was a calm haste about the girl, a swift 
 deliberation which a tangled end of his emotions 
 wanted to admire even while the bulk of his thought 
 was with the peril of the situation which faced them. 
 
 Rangy Pete worked with mechanical swiftness, 
 and shortly he found himself stooping over for Miss 
 Dick's saddle. 
 
 A remarkably heavy thing, after all, for all its 
 appearance of lightness those saddle bags must 
 be tightly packed.
 
 RANGY PETE 361 
 
 Now he was at the foot of the cliff, and the girl 
 was already climbing. 
 
 "Bring the saddle up a few feet. There is a ledge 
 here to rest it on." 
 
 The distance to that black spot on the gray face 
 of the cliff was not so great after all. Rangy could 
 see now that it would be fifty feet, a trifle more at 
 the most. Except for one or two narrow ledges, the 
 climb was a sheer one. But it was an ancient way, 
 known to the footsteps of some long-lost generation, 
 for carefully chiseled out of the face of the rock were 
 steps like the rungs of a ladder. It would be the 
 cave of some tribe of man long passed from the face 
 of the earth, a den towards which he and Miss Dick 
 were climbing a trap, as well. 
 
 Rangy stopped in his climbing. 
 
 "When they get us here, how long will it take 
 them to starve us out?" he demanded suddenly. 
 "Is there any food or water up there?" 
 
 "There is not." 
 
 "Then there's nothing to be gained by starvin' 
 in a cave, Miss. I'd better be stayin' down below. 
 I'll fight 'em off till after dark, and then mabbe 
 you can slip down and mooch it outa the way." 
 
 " Come, Mr. Pete. Please hurry. They are almost 
 here. I can hear the horses again." 
 
 "No, Miss. They ain't no use for me to get up 
 into that cave. I've hadda think fast, and the way 
 I see it, we can't take no chances of lettin' them
 
 362 RANGY PETE 
 
 camp around the bottom of this cliff. They'd shore 
 have us corralled tighter'n a drum. But if I stay at 
 the bottom, behind one of them rocks, and kinda 
 discourage them from nosin' up here too close, 
 while you salutes them from above, we got a chance. 
 We might slip out after dark- 
 
 Behind him came the sudden clatter of galloping 
 horses, as the foremost riders rounded the point of 
 rock from the main trail several hundred yards away. 
 
 "I'd better slope it back quick," Rangy declared, 
 as he made a downward step. 
 
 "No! No!" Miss Dick exclaimed, with a trace of 
 excitement in her manner. "This is not a cave. 
 I hadn't intended to tell you, but it is the way 
 through the buttes. Come. Hurry. They will be 
 shooting soon." 
 
 Rangy liked that excitement in the girl's tones. 
 There was a personal note in it which brought back 
 the old thrill. There was, as well, a suggestion of 
 concern which he was too human to overlook. 
 
 "That's different. I'm with you, long's we ain't 
 a hornin' our way into no corral what we can't find 
 our way out of. You just run along fast. I'll be 
 right after you." 
 
 That new thrill was still running warm in the 
 veins of Rangy Pete as they climbed the face of the 
 cliff. In his brain was a consciousness that Miss Dick 
 did not want to leave him to the mercies of the riders 
 from the Snaky Y; but this was no time to look about
 
 RANGY PETE 363 
 
 for her motives. In his ears was the sound of gallop- 
 ing horses. Rangy did not look around, for he 
 dreaded the moment when those sounds must cease. 
 
 Miss Dick climbed briskly. Now she was at the 
 very edge of the cave. A few more steps and he 
 would be at her side. 
 
 Abruptly the clatter of horses' hoofs died away. 
 Rangy Pete knew the meaning of that. 
 
 "Hurry," he exclaimed. "They'll be shooting 
 now " 
 
 Almost as he spoke, there came the whine of a 
 bullet and a dull, shattering sound as it bit its way 
 into the face of the cliff, then fell back lifeless. 
 
 Miss Dick threw herself over the edge of the cave. 
 Just two steps more to make himself and he would 
 be at her side. Behind him there was the sharp 
 snapping of pistol shots. At his side was the deadened 
 thud of bullets. 
 
 Now he was at the edge of the cave the girl's 
 arm was thrust out to pull him more swiftly into 
 safety. More bullets, whining their way past his 
 head, or biting ineptly at the cold face of the rock. 
 He was at the edge now, tumbling into safety he 
 had beaten them 
 
 Beaten them what was that hot, searing sen- 
 sation which cut its way through his right leg and 
 left it all but powerless? What was that dizzying 
 reel in his brain? Miss Dick at his side, tugging now 
 at that rope which he had fastened about his waist.
 
 364 RANGY PETE 
 
 Strange, but he had forgotten that. There was a 
 saddle at the far end of that rope, a remarkably 
 heavy saddle which Miss Dick, through some foolish 
 mood, was trying to rescue from the Snaky Y 
 punchers. 
 
 Rangy put his hand to the rope, and tugged with 
 Miss Dick. Still firing outside. Doubtless trying 
 to cut the rope with their bullets. Through an 
 endless period that firing continued, while he labored 
 beside the girl. In time, many hours later, it seemed, 
 the sound of angry bullets died away, and the drab 
 old saddle crawled through the mouth of the cave 
 and lay there before him. 
 
 "Foolish old thing," Rangy muttered, conscious 
 that he was caught in the grip of some unusual cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 Miss Dick swung towards him quickly. 
 
 "You're hurt?" she exclaimed instantly, and again 
 Rangy was aware of that personal note. 
 
 It was such a pleasing thing, that personal note 
 in the girl's voice. It was pleasing, as well, to see 
 that sudden flash of alarm which leaped into her 
 eyes. Alarm, for him. Queer old world. How topsy- 
 turvy things had become. Miss Dick, the bandit, 
 feeling alarm for him! 
 
 "Just a scratch. Ain't notliin'," Rangy declared, 
 though quite conscious that he did not want that 
 alarm to die out of the girl's features. 
 
 "Nothin' atoll," he insisted, and to prove that
 
 RANGY PETE 365 
 
 fact he tried to rise to his feet. He reached that 
 position, in a tottering way, only to tumble back 
 to the floor of the cave when he put his foot to the 
 ground. 
 
 He tumbled to the floor of the cave. He knew 
 that perfectly well. It was quite natural that he 
 should do so; but the rest of it was all strange. It 
 was not natural that the floor of the cave should 
 open up before him and that he should keep on 
 tumbling and tumbling, on and on, falling through 
 endless space, through rocks and trees and clouds, 
 through alternate light and darkness, through new 
 and old scenes yes, it was most natural after all. 
 A moment ago he had not known himself. Now it 
 was quite all right. He knew himself. He remem- 
 bered it all distinctly. He was Dan Merrill, and he 
 had just been killed by Bill Sonnes when they fought 
 over Shifty Lizz back in Tony Burke's saloon. 
 
 Darkness!
 
 CHAPTER XHI 
 
 WHEN the darkness gradually gave way to rifts 
 of light here and there, Rangy Pete was conscious 
 of an occasional snapping, whining sound which 
 touched some vague spot in his memory. There 
 would come a dreary, whining slur which he knew 
 quite well, followed by a rattling, shattering suc- 
 cession of noises quite unfamiliar to his senses. From 
 time to time, near at hand, there was a sharp stabbing 
 of the air which reached his ear-drums with unnec- 
 essary violence, and always, it seemed to him, that 
 was followed by the whining and shattering of other 
 sounds. 
 
 Once, when that volume of unfamiliar noise grew 
 intense, Rangy Pete opened his eyes wearily. The 
 scene was familiar enough, but that sound did not 
 belong to him at all. The scene was the edge of the 
 earth. It was that black cave from which he had 
 tumbled into eternity when Bill Sonnes shot him 
 back there in Burke's saloon. That was quite right ; 
 but this slithering noise, like some giant hammer 
 chopping at blocks of stone it was annoying. 
 It ruffled the peacefulness of eternity. It queer, 
 but there seemed to be a physical side to him now; 
 there was now a dragging something cluttering all 
 
 36
 
 RANGY PETE 367 
 
 about that lightness of soul which through unlimited 
 years had been wandering through infinite spaces; 
 there was a restraining something hedged all about 
 that mentality which but a moment ago had known 
 neither bounds nor limits; there was - 
 
 Rangy Pete opened his eyes again. There was a 
 searing in his right leg, just above the knee. Gad. 
 There was a girl right in front of him. She had a 
 Winchester in her hands, and she was firing from 
 time to time out the mouth of the cave. And that 
 shattering volume of noise was made by the occa- 
 sional bullet which whipped upward from the ground, 
 bit into the roof of the cave and loosened fragments 
 of rock all about them. There was the echo of the 
 Winchester as the reverberations of sound traveled 
 the length of the cave like the rumbling of distant 
 thunder, and then died away. There was the acrid 
 smell of burnt powder upon the air there was a 
 bandage about his leg which had stopped the flow 
 of blood. 
 
 Rangy Pete rose to his elbow, and as he did so, 
 Miss Dick swung about to face him. There was a 
 brilliance in her eyes, a glow upon her cheeks, which 
 he had never seen before. There was a keenness of 
 battle in her pose, which in some unexplained manner 
 recalled to him the poise of a mother wolf he had 
 once seen fighting for her young. 
 
 "Looks as though they pinked me," Rangy mut- 
 tered. "What's going on now?"
 
 368 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Nothing. We're just exchanging friendly salutes. 
 I am letting the Merrill gang know it wouldn't be 
 wise to try to climb up that stairway. How are 
 you feeling, Mr. Pete?" 
 
 "Like a branded maverick, I'm thinkin'. But why 
 haven't you sloped it long ago?" 
 
 "They would have had you strung up by this 
 time," the girl replied calmly. "I had to stay, Mr. 
 Pete, because I knew the curiosity of that bunch of 
 riders. One of them just climbed up the stairs. 
 I nicked him a little. That is what the firing has 
 been about. It has stopped now." 
 
 The sound of firing had died away, and through 
 the calm which settled down upon them Rangy felt 
 that he could think more clearly. 
 
 He found that his head had been pillowed upon 
 Miss Dick's saddle, so he let it fall back again, and 
 he lay there contemplating the girl and the scene 
 about huii. This cave was pleasantly, restfully robed 
 in the soft shades of twilight, though from the color 
 of the air beyond, he knew it must still be daylight 
 in the world outside. 
 
 The sun, he could remember, had been slanting 
 down behind the butte tops when he and Miss Dick 
 made that dash for the Pelican cave way back in 
 the distant ages when some other race of mankind 
 lived upon the earth. And still there was daylight 
 outside. This must mean that, after all, he had not 
 been traveling for years and generations through
 
 RANGY PETE 369 
 
 those mystic and darkened realms which held him 
 for a time, but that, in reality, it could have been 
 but a few minutes. 
 
 Yet in those few minutes Miss Dick had been 
 active. She had bound up his wound which felt hot 
 and restless now; she had pillowed his head upon 
 her saddle; she had found stones in some strange 
 manner with which to build a barricade between 
 them and the mouth of the cave, and she had fought 
 off the punchers. 
 
 Rangy Pete looked about him at the barricade, 
 at the clear, day-lit air beyond. 
 
 "So you nicked one of the punchers?" he asked 
 meditatively. 
 
 "Just a little. Through the arm. He would insist 
 upon coming up here even after I had fired a couple 
 of shots into the air. That squares accounts for 
 
 you." 
 
 There were facts which Rangy must get firmly 
 fixed in his mind, facts which somehow had become 
 warped and distorted through that age he had spent 
 in another world. 
 
 "And didn't you say something about this not 
 being a cave, but that it runs through the buttes to 
 the land of the Dervishers?" 
 
 Miss Dick nodded. 
 
 There could be no doubt of it now. Miss Dick 
 had saved his life and the price she had paid 
 had been her own opportunity to escape.
 
 370 RANGY PETE 
 
 "You know your way through the cave?" Rangy 
 pressed, caught in the abrupt knowledge that he 
 must be quite clear upon that point. 
 
 Miss Dick laughed easily. 
 
 "Know the way? I have known it since a child. 
 Day or night I know it. It leads off here into the 
 dark and from the dark, Mr. Rangy Pete, if you 
 take the right steps and the right turns, you come 
 out into the light on the top of the buttes, and then, 
 if you take the right steps again, you come down 
 into the land of the Dervishers, as you call it - 
 though we call it home - 
 
 Was it wistfulness or humor in the girl's voice? 
 There was still a sparkle in her eyes, he knew, but 
 that had come from battle. 
 
 "And no one knows where this queer path leads 
 down into into your home?" Rangy asked. "I 
 mean no one but Dervishers." 
 
 "No one but Dervishers." 
 
 "Then, girl, you had better be going before the 
 punchers come again - 
 
 Miss Dick looked at him strangely, so strangely 
 that Rangy stumbled over his words. 
 
 " They'll be coming again mustn't let them 
 brand you with a bullet I'll hold them off for a 
 while I'm thinkin' I could keep them busy a 
 whole night 
 
 Rangy Pete broke off, for there was something in 
 the girl's silence which told him that his words were
 
 RANGY PETE 371 
 
 all foolishness. She turned her eyes away swiftly, 
 and she began to busy herself with the weapons 
 which lay at her side. Rangy lay still and watched 
 her for some minutes; and as he watched, he listened 
 for sounds from the punchers down below. Miss 
 Dick's activity, he discovered, was spurious, for 
 though her fingers were busy, she was doing nothing. 
 From beyond the mouth of the cave, there came an 
 occasional sound which betrayed to him the temper 
 of the punchers. There was silence, broken at times 
 by the angry whip of a bullet as it cut through the 
 mouth of the cave and bit into the rocky roof beyond 
 them. There drifted up to him an odor of campfire 
 smoke, quite different from this acrid smell of 
 powder; and that spoke of camps for the night. 
 
 Through the mouth of the cave, the crystal of 
 the air was thinning. Dark shadows were showing 
 on the buttes beyond. The twilight of this cave 
 was growing denser. Night was coming upon them, 
 and the punchers were camping in the draw below. 
 Determined to catch them, no doubt, believing they 
 were trapped in this hole in the wall of the cliff. 
 Knowing, or thinking they knew, that it would be 
 only a matter of time until starvation forced them 
 to yield. 
 
 If only there were not that searing burn in his 
 leg, he would laugh at them now. But there was 
 that crumpled leg, and there was also Miss Dick 
 before him, toying with a six-gun, cleaning it again
 
 37S RANGY PETE 
 
 and again. He, at least, was trapped. But why 
 must this girl suffer with him? Yet he dreaded that 
 strange look which came into her eyes when he 
 spoke to her of escape. 
 
 Rangy's left hand strayed up to toy with the tip 
 of his left ear. He cleared his throat, and he began 
 resolutely. 
 
 "Now, Miss Dick, I'm gonna throw the rope 
 straight this time, an' tell you they just ain't no 
 use of the both of us being caught by them wild-men 
 punchers down below - 
 
 The girl bandit turned her face towards him again, 
 and though the deepening of twilight threw her 
 features into shadow, he could still see the sparkle 
 of her eyes. 
 
 " Shore, Mr. Pete," she returned, mimicking his 
 voice, "but you don't go far enough. I don't see 
 any use of either of us being caught." 
 
 "You don't? With a dozen punchers down below, 
 and a whole army of most nigh fifty on the way." 
 
 Miss Dick shook her head firmly. 
 
 "What difference does it make how many there 
 are? Only one man can climb those steps at a time." 
 
 Rangy was almost startled at the calm deliberation 
 of her voice and manner. There was about her now 
 some of the cool fighting instinct which he knew to 
 be a characteristic of the born gunman. But with 
 Miss Dick it was different. She was cornered, while 
 they had fought for the pure love of it.
 
 RANGY PETE 373 
 
 "That's what I'm sayin'," Rangy returned slowly. 
 "I could fight them off all night an' tomorrer, an' 
 while I'm doin' that, you could be lookin' up a more 
 healthy climate. I'd shore like to go with you, but 
 seein' as one of them punchers had to go and brand 
 me on the leg " 
 
 "The bone isn't broken. You'll be able to crawl 
 along in less than a week," Miss Dick interrupted 
 swiftly, almost with violence in her manner. 
 
 Rangy Pete leaned forward to study this queer 
 half-shrinking, half-arrogant mood which held the 
 girl in its grip. But Miss Dick turned her face away 
 and the growing shadows of twilight told him 
 nothing. 
 
 "That sounds good," Rangy reflected, "but you 
 shore don't think I could stand them off for a week?" 
 
 "No. But the two of us could." 
 
 Rangy laughed uneasily. 
 
 "I couldn't possibly let you take a chance like 
 that. We'd be starved out, or you might get hit 
 yoreself " 
 
 This time Miss Dick leaned over him quickly, and 
 even through the shadows he could see the flash 
 of her eyes. 
 
 "If I were you if I were lying as you are 
 now, would you desert me, Rangy Pete?" the girl 
 demanded, and now he knew there was real anger 
 in her manner, anger because of his inference that 
 she should not play the game to the end. "Tell me
 
 374 RANGY PETE 
 
 that, and I will know whether to go or to stay." 
 
 "Shore, I'd leave you," Rangy replied calmly. 
 "Every maverick for himself when they's a stampede 
 on- 
 
 "You lie, Rangy Pete. I am going to stay. We 
 will fight them off until you are well enough to get 
 away through the cave." 
 
 Rangy Pete nodded, with the old thrill coursing 
 its way through his veins. He had known long ago 
 that Miss Dick was one of the prizes of earth. He 
 knew now that she would be a comrade whom man 
 could never forget. He thrilled in her presence. If 
 only he could know the motive which urged her on. 
 
 "You shore got the markin's of a thoroughbred," 
 he reflected in admiration. "They ain't no reason 
 why you shouldn't stay a while, and if it gets too 
 hot at any time you can always make yore escape - 
 
 "Can't you see there isn't going to be much 
 fighting?" Miss Dick replied more calmly. "They 
 think we are trapped. They are not going to risk 
 men up those steps. No, they will sit down to starve 
 us out. They can't do that in a week. There is a 
 lot of food in my saddle-bags, and if it gets too bad 
 I can slip out the back door at night. No, Mr. 
 Rangy Pete, all we have to do is to sit down quietly 
 for a few days until your leg gets so you can crawl 
 with it." 
 
 "P'raps yer right," Rangy conceded. 
 
 "Perhaps? Of course I'm right," the girl declared
 
 RANGY PETE 375 
 
 briskly, as she rose to her feet and disappeared in 
 the darkened recesses of the cave. 
 
 Rangy Pete felt a feverish restlessness stealing 
 over him. There was the pain of his wound which 
 throbbed its way through his veins, but greater than 
 that, there was the uncertainty of the future which 
 Miss Dick had chosen for herself. He wondered if 
 the girl really knew what the immediate future must 
 mean to her. Did she know that the whole burden 
 of battle would fall upon her? Or did that strange 
 light in her eyes mean that she welcomed battle? 
 
 There was that fever creeping into his blood. 
 Doubtless in a few hours he would be delirious. Then 
 there would be hours, days perhaps, through which 
 he would be helpless. And through those days and 
 hours, what would Miss Dick be doing? Fighting 
 against thirst, starvation, and an army of reckless 
 punchers. Fighting for him. Could she possibly 
 know the horror of those days which were before 
 her now? Could she know the torment of days and 
 nights when the body must keep on toiling, and when 
 the eyes dare not close in sleep? 
 
 Rangy's eyes stole into the darkness of the cave, 
 and there he saw the dim outline of the girl's figure 
 moving about. Presently she came back with a 
 fragment of rock in her arms, and she placed this 
 on top of the barricade which she had built during 
 his first trip into realms beyond the earth. For a 
 time, with that fever creeping higher and higher in
 
 376 RANGY PETE 
 
 his blood, he watched the girl passing back and forth, 
 toiling with the rock which made the barricade more 
 and more effective. Shortly he discovered that she 
 was doing this to shelter his position from stray 
 bullets; but that knowledge only added to the flush 
 of the fever which was burning its way through his 
 body. Instead of asking him to move, she was 
 building a barricade of rock between him and all 
 possible harm. She left an opening in the wall, she 
 spread a blanket beside that opening and placed a 
 loaded Winchester and six-gun upon the blanket. 
 Then she carefully stored the food somewhere in 
 the darkness beyond. After that, Miss Dick came 
 and sat down upon the blanket, some six feet from 
 where Rangy Pete lay. 
 
 It was dark in the cave now. It was dark, as well, 
 in the air beyond. Either that, or his brain was 
 already playing strange tricks upon him. 
 
 "Good Lord, Miss," Rangy spoke suddenly from 
 the depths of his heart, "you can't know what the 
 next few days will mean better go now. You'll 
 have a terrible time if you stay - 
 
 The girl leaned forward and passed her hand 
 lightly over his forehead. 
 
 "Fever already," she muttered. "Take a drink, 
 Mr. Rangy, and go to sleep if you can. You will 
 feel better in the morning." 
 
 With a strange desire to be obedient, he drank 
 what the girl put to his lips. A moment later he was
 
 RANGY PETE 377 
 
 caught in a mixed wave of humiliation and gratitude. 
 She had given him water from her own canteen, and 
 he had taken it before he thought. Rangy leaned 
 back against the saddle, cushioned with a blanket, 
 and he tried to study the face of the girl at his side. 
 That was impossible, because of the film of darkness 
 but there was no reason why his brain, feverish as 
 it was, could not picture Miss Dick's face after she 
 had passed through days of thirst and starvation. 
 And she would do that for him. She must know 
 something of the horror of the immediate future, 
 and yet she was sitting there calmly, staring out 
 into the night. She would be watching the mouth 
 of the cave, watching that spot where a man's head 
 must show up against the blot of night if any 
 man had the courage. 
 
 Rangy could not see the lip of the cave. He was 
 almost glad of that. But he could see the sky beyond. 
 He knew it must be sky, because it was a dark gray 
 patch thrown out against the surrounding world of 
 darkness. 
 
 For hours and hours, it seemed to Rangy Pete, 
 he watched that gray patch of sky, and as he watched, 
 it gradually grew lighter, with a silvery sheen. That 
 would be his imagination, or the fever no it 
 was the coming of moonlight moonlight? Was 
 it last night, or had it been a myriad years ago that 
 he rode along a strip of moonlight with a girl at his 
 side?
 
 378 RANGY PETE 
 
 Moonlight! For hours and hours it danced and 
 glittered out there in the radiant air beyond the lip 
 of the cave. Or was it minutes only? The girl baix-ly 
 moved, except to glance from time to time in his 
 direction. He could tell that by the fling of her head. 
 Silence in the world beyond, except for a snatch of 
 campfire song which floated up through the moonlit 
 air. Laughter; at times the sound of bickering voices. 
 Rangy Pete knew that scene so well, just as well as 
 though he had been seated at the side of the fire 
 flipping the cards or sharing in the banter. He knew 
 there was no hope that the camp would melt away 
 and that he and Miss Dick would be left to their 
 own resources. 
 
 Miss Dick, watching steadily that one point at 
 the lip of the cave where a man's head must appear, 
 sooner or later ! It was inevitable that in any gang 
 of a dozen punchers there must be at least one who 
 would have the folly to climb that flight of stairs 
 notched into the face of the rock; there would be at 
 least one man who through the night would dare 
 to peer over the mouth of the cave. And the girl 
 sitting there so calmly, with weapons at her hands, 
 waiting for the inevitable. She must know what he, 
 Rangy Pete, knew that there was more to be 
 feared from folly than from actual attack. For what 
 half-score of punchers can sit about a camp-fire at 
 night, with their quarry in sight, without being 
 touched in some manner by the spirit of folly?
 
 RANGY PETE 379 
 
 Miss Dick must know that, for she was waiting, 
 sheltered behind the barricade, but in such position 
 that her presence must be stern discipline for folly. 
 Even through the fever which was burning into his 
 system, Rangy felt like shuddering. Would the girl 
 play the cold game of discipline, or would she barter 
 with the enemy? Would she calmly shoot the first 
 head which showed above the lip of the cave, or 
 
 Moonlight? Of course that was moonlight, and 
 it was through moonlight he had ridden some cen- 
 turies ago, with this girl at his side. Moonlight in 
 the air beyond. Stealing now into the cave itself. 
 Glinting and shimmering back from the girl's head 
 whenever she glanced about glistening just as it 
 had done last night when he rode that silent trail 
 from the Crags yes, it was last night that he had 
 ridden with Miss Dick. It was last night he had 
 ridden in arrogance, confident of the future, certain 
 of his sway over her, certain that he was to take 
 her back to Triple Butte to teach her what was 
 that he had thought to teach Miss Dick? Something 
 about mankind. And here was she now, sitting there 
 so calmly, with a six-gun in her hand, waiting to 
 shoot the first head which peered above that dan- 
 gerous lip of the rock. Queer, how topsy-turvy the 
 world had become. And this fever in his blood, this 
 pain in his right leg - 
 
 The girl's cool hand now upon his forehead. A 
 caressing, mothering touch there, something soothing.
 
 380 RANGY PETE 
 
 Or was that, too, but the antics of his imagination? 
 But while the hand was there, he lost his desire to 
 toss about, his brain became clearer, and he could 
 see now beyond doubt that it was moonlight which 
 was glinting back from Miss Dick's hair. It was 
 moonlight, too, which showed him the soft lines 
 about the girl's features, lines softer and more pitying 
 than any he had seen there before. And was there, 
 as well, something longing in the girl's eyes as she 
 leaned above him, her hand still upon his forehead? 
 Was there a soft, lingering caress in her voice as she 
 whispered a soothing, child-like song? Why should 
 he feel suddenly happy, hi spite of the fever and the 
 pain? Perhaps that, as well, was but a trick of the 
 fever, perhaps. 
 
 Yet that could hardly be, for now that the girl 
 leaned back into her old pose of watchfulness, he 
 could see clearly the lines of her features as the moon- 
 light filtered into the mouth of the cave. There was 
 something stern, yet soft and mothering in the girl's 
 countenance, the croon of a little song upon her 
 lips. Strange, that she should be sitting there so 
 calmly, waiting to shoot a man, or many men if 
 need be, and that there should be the soothing of 
 faint song in the air. An unusual kind of girl, he 
 must admit, which he should have recognized and 
 admitted long ago. Quite too late now. And she 
 was doing this for him! 
 
 Moonlight! Peering, inquisitive moonlight, sifting
 
 RANGY PETE 381 
 
 its way into the cave until he could see the girl's 
 features quite distinctly. Moonlight, playing with 
 its fantastic fingers over the scene beyond the mouth 
 of the cave. It must be doing that, for the patch of 
 sky which crossed his vision was clean, and the 
 laughter reached him clearly through the rarified 
 atmosphere. He knew just what a wonderful night 
 it must be out there in the butte land moonlight - 
 wonderful, but not quite like the domestic peace of 
 this other scene of which he was a part. Peace. 
 That burning of fever had become almost a restful 
 thing. 
 
 Moonlight beyond shattered suddenly by the 
 bark of a six-gun. 
 
 Rangy waited for the sound of that annoying 
 clatter of rock which must come when a bullet bit 
 into the roof of the cave the sound did not come. 
 Poor shooting. That idiot down below had not even 
 been able to hit the black spot which was the mouth 
 of the cave more shots. A quick, barking fusilade 
 of them. Somehow they seemed to come from a 
 distance. The dying of laughter, the quick oaths 
 of men. Another fusilade of shots the whooping 
 of healthy male voices. Silence down below, broken 
 only by an anxious oath a confusing situation. 
 What could it mean? 
 
 Foolish of him! Of course that would be the 
 arrival of the army of punchers who had followed 
 him all through the day and the night.
 
 382 RANGY PETE 
 
 Still more shots, and angered voices. Miss Dick 
 peering cautiously from the edge of the cave. 
 
 "Come back, girl," Rangy called in a whisper. 
 "They might shoot you." 
 
 Mass Dick came back to his side. She put her hand 
 once more upon his forehead, and looked down upon 
 him. Surely her eyes were shining with excitement. 
 
 "They are fighting out there, Rangy Pete," she 
 spoke quietly. "What can that mean?" 
 
 "Fighting? Out there?" he asked in a puzzled 
 way. 
 
 "Yes, the men who have just ridden in the 
 army which was behind us they are fighting I hose 
 Merrill punchers. What can it mean?" 
 
 Rangy's answer was an inarticulate mumble of 
 words. It was better to lie here thus, with the girl's 
 cool hand upon his forehead, than to try to solve 
 the foolish problems of cow punchers. If they chose 
 to fight, what did it matter to him? He preferred 
 the peace of this silent cave. A ragged wrangle of 
 shots down below a quick burst of sound, the 
 dominance of a man's voice then silence. 
 
 Silence, except for the untraceable blur of sound 
 which told of the presence of many men, but which 
 in some ways seemed but a part of the silence of the 
 night. What matter, ten men or a thousand? Only 
 one man could climb that stairway at a time; only 
 one man at a time could fall back to his death. 
 Miss Dick, the efficient, he wondered now if she
 
 RANGY PETE 383 
 
 would weary of the killing of men through the days 
 before he dared to travel out through the back of 
 the cave into the land of the Dervishers. He should 
 not let her do that thing. It was wrong, but with 
 this fever and this weakness upon him, what was 
 there for him to do? Order Miss Dick to leave him - 
 what good were orders to one who refused to obey? 
 The code, the teaching of his code of mankind 
 Miss Dick's hand upon his brow, stroking the fever 
 away with gentle fingers voices, annoying voices 
 down below. Insistent voices, bellowing constantly. 
 
 The girl leaned closer. 
 
 "They are calling you by name, Rangy Pete," 
 she whispered. "Do you not hear them?" 
 
 "Shore I hear them. Idyots! Tell'em to be still." 
 
 "There's a man there who calls you his friend," 
 the girl's voice continued to whisper. "He says 
 everything is all right now. He calls himself Ike 
 Collander. You know Ike Collander, Rangy?" 
 
 "Shore Li'l Ike of the 'vaporated apples. 
 Gosh A'mighty!" 
 
 Rangy rallied as though from fitful slumber. He 
 partly pulled himself to one elbow, and he studied 
 the scene about him with curious eyes. He listened 
 for a moment to those voices down below. 
 
 "I musta been a wanderin' in my head, Miss. 
 I thought I heard somebody say somethin' about 
 Ike Collander - " 
 
 "You did."
 
 384 RANGY PETE 
 
 From below came the long, drawn-out hail of an 
 anxious voice. 
 
 "What's the matter, Rangy? Whyn't you been 
 answerin'?" 
 
 "Ike!" Rangy exclaimed. "Ike Collander shore 
 enough!" 
 
 Then Rangy Pete raised his voice in welcome to 
 Ike Collander. Immediately there came back a 
 babel of sound. There was the clamor of mixed 
 voices, and when the confusion died away, there 
 came again the voice of Ike Collander. 
 
 "I'm comin' up there, Rangy, so jest you go to 
 holdin' yore bosses easy. Don't get no fightin' idea 
 into yore head." 
 
 The only sound which reached him now was the 
 scraping of the man's shod feet as they groped and 
 found those steps cut out of the face of the rock. 
 
 "Pull me forward, just a little," Rangy Pete 
 whispered to the girl at his side, "just enough so's 
 I can see Ike the minute he sticks his head up." 
 
 The girl obeyed without answering. Then instantly 
 she sank back into the darkened portion of the cave 
 beliind the barricade. While those scraping sounds 
 came from beyond the cave, Rangy reached out and 
 put one hand upon the girl's arm. It was more 
 ivstful thus. It brought for the time being a clarity 
 of brain, when before his thoughts had been wander- 
 ing. If by any chance his senses had been tricking 
 him, the touch of the girl's arm would help him
 
 RANGY PETE 385 
 
 through. How restful to be able to lean thus upon 
 another. 
 
 Moonlight beyond the faintest shimmer of it 
 penetrating here and lighting up the gleam of the 
 girl's eyes. Ike's groping fingers upon the lip of the 
 cave. A head showing up against the clear back- 
 ground of sky. Six feet distant. A man could sit 
 here and kill and kill until the weariness of killing 
 But no, he must hold close grip upon himself. 
 
 "Hey there, you ole tarnation idyot, whyn't you 
 been answerin' me afore?" Collander's voice was 
 just on a level with the mouth of the cave. "But 
 that shore is some castle you got there, Rangy 
 
 "Shore, li'l Ike. Ain't you got no manners? What 
 you doin' a hangin' on my front doorstep? And 
 who's them noisy friends you got down below?" 
 
 Ike Collander still clung to the mouth of the cave. 
 
 "They's a hull bunch of fellers what you know, 
 Rangy. They's Jumbo Irish, and Ring'em Foster, 
 and but I'm comin' in to look around 
 
 "Yer a gonna stay right where you are, Mr. Ike, 
 till I knows what you come for. You come to take 
 me back to Triple Butte?" 
 
 "You pore idyot. They shore must be sumthin' 
 wrong with you, Rangy. We come up the Pelican 
 draw a chasm' Dervishers, an' we heard they's a 
 bunch of Snaky Y punchers got you trapped here 
 in a cave, so we moseyed right along. 'Tain't been no 
 fun for them, Rangy, 'cause they's about a half
 
 386 RANGY PETE 
 
 dozen of them all nicked up and whining around. 
 An' now that you know yer with friends, can't I 
 come in, Rangy?" 
 
 "Shore, Ike. You won't find me good for much, 
 but- 
 
 The faint flutter of Miss Dick's arm beneath the 
 pressure of his hand caused the words to break upon 
 Rangy 's lips. 
 
 Miss Dick, the bandit, was now entirely within 
 his power. She was where he might teach to her 
 that code of mankind. She was conscious of that; 
 she must be. But beyond that first flutter of her 
 arm, the girl gave no sign that she appreciated the 
 full meaning of this swift turn of events. It would 
 be so easy now, to hand Miss Dick over to the army 
 from Triple Butte, to the punchers from the Triangle 
 O and the Double K. 
 
 Rangy Pete's fingers traveled down the girl's arm 
 until they met her hand. 
 
 Ike Collander out there, just a few feet away, 
 making a great clattering noise as he scrambled 
 over the lip of the cave. 
 
 Rangy carried the girl's fingers to his lips. 
 
 "Good-bye, girl. Go, quick. Ike'll be here in a 
 minute." 
 
 "Go?" she asked in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, go." 
 
 Miss Dick rose to her feet and vanished into the 
 darkness of the inner cave.
 
 RANGY PETE 387 
 
 "They shore got me all bunged up, Ike," Rangy 
 greeted his old associate. "Nicked in the leg. You 
 come just in time." 
 
 Ike Collander became solicitious. He examined 
 Rangy as best he could, then he pronounced his 
 judgment. 
 
 " We shore gotta get some things up here, Rangy. 
 I'm thinkin' I'd better be sayin' something to them 
 idyots down below." 
 
 Collander returned to the lip of the cave. Imme- 
 diately he engaged in animated conversation with 
 the punchers at the foot of the cliff. Rangy Pete 
 gathered that Collander was issuing many instruc- 
 tions and was arguing over them all. In some way 
 or other those instructions had to do with caring 
 for him here in Pelican cave, but Rangy did not 
 listen closely. It was all wearying detail. Besides, 
 he missed the coolness of that hand which had 
 rested upon his forehead. The fever, he knew, was 
 coming back again 
 
 Yes, the fever was coming back, or why would 
 he have fancied that Miss Dick was again at his 
 side, that she was looking down upon him with 
 widely curious eyes? That fever must be very bad 
 indeed, or why would he have believed that he 
 heard her voice? 
 
 "Rangy, you sure are a trump card." 
 
 It was just a whisper, a mere thread of a voice. 
 Still, he was quite sure that it existed. He opened
 
 388 RANGY PETE 
 
 his eyes more widely. Yes, the girl was actually 
 before him. 
 
 "Then you are not going to take me back to Triple 
 Butte after all, to teach me the code of man?" The 
 lips were smiling, and the girl's eyes were dazzling. 
 
 "No, little girl," Rangy whispered back, through 
 his weariness. "They ain't nothin' I would'n do to 
 have you with me all the time, so that's why I gotta 
 let you go - 
 
 "Poor, mixed-up Rangy," the girl replied. "We 
 must hurry, because Bee will soon be back. But 
 there is a present I have for you, Rangy. Will you 
 take it?" 
 
 "What is it, Blue Eyes?" 
 
 "Nothing but that saddle you're lying upon. If 
 you look in the saddle bags you will find ten thousand 
 dollars there in gold." 
 
 Miss Dick rose to her feet, and made as though 
 to slip once more into the darkness of the cave. But 
 Rangy rose to his elbow, and by the mere strength 
 of his purpose he compelled her to remain. 
 
 "Talkin' about trumps, little girl, you shore is 
 the most wonderful trump that ever got into a pack. 
 Why are you doing this for me, little girl?" 
 
 "Why are you letting me get away, when you 
 might keep me here?" 
 
 "Is that the only reason, girl?" 
 
 "No, it shore ain't," the girl mimicked, and Rangy 
 fancied that back of her mimicry there was a catch
 
 RANGY PETE 389 
 
 in her voice. "I am doing it because I didn't want 
 you to think too badly of me, Rangy, after I am 
 gone. I wanted you to know that I didn't steal it 
 for myself, but just to help a friend of mine. You 
 know who. Merrill hasn't played the game with 
 him, and when I heard about this ten thousand 
 you can do the rest Ike is coming. We must 
 hurry, Rangy I did it because close your eyes, 
 Rangy, and I will tell you the other reason." 
 
 In a strange whim of obedience, as though the 
 spell of the girl were about him, Rangy Pete closed 
 his eyes. It was wonderful to feel thus her presence 
 about him. It was almost a denial to the threat of 
 farewell that he should now sense the thrill of her 
 form hovering above him. 
 
 Then he felt the swift warmth of her lips upon 
 his fevered forehead. 
 
 Rangy threw out his arms to catch her in his 
 grasp, but when his arms closed again there was no 
 human form within them. He opened his eyes, only 
 to see the girl standing some paces from him. Rangy 
 could not see her face but he knew that the eyes 
 must be sparkling, and the ripple of laughter which 
 reached him through the darkness carried with it 
 a message of gladness. 
 
 With a feverish effort, he struggled into a sitting 
 posture. But Miss Dick was vanishing into the 
 darkness of the inner cave, and already there was 
 the rattling sound of Ike Collander's return.
 
 390 RANGY PETE 
 
 "Come back, Little Blue Eyes!" he called out, 
 in a clear, thin voice, "for there's something I got 
 to say to you, and I'll be waiting." 
 
 Collander stepped forward to his side in a startled 
 way. 
 
 "What's that you're saying, Rangy?" he asked, 
 in a worried voice. "You think you're a-talking to 
 somebody?" 
 
 "Was I talkin'?" Rangy asked, with but little 
 of the old vitality in his tones. "You mustn't mind 
 me, Ike, 'cause I sometimes get queer ideas in my 
 head. And, Ike, I'm awful glad you come." 
 
 With that, Rangy Pete sank back upon the 
 improvised bed which Miss Dick had made for him, 
 and he closed his eyes as though in yielding to the 
 blackness of suffering. Then Collander put a hand 
 to his brow. 
 
 "Fever. Running hot," he pronounced. "We 
 shore did get here just in time. He couldn't a fought 
 off them Merrill buckos much longer " 
 
 But Rangy shifted restlessly. 
 
 "Fever, nothing," he declared, though with a 
 palpable effort to keep control of his senses. "Can't 
 a fellow think but what you've gotta call it fever. 
 I suppose I gotta keep my eyes open now." 
 
 Rangy's eyes did remain open, staring fixedly into 
 the darkness at the roof of the cave, and while they 
 stared, the brain back of them was recalling the 
 picture of Miss Dick, the bandit, who had entrusted
 
 RANGY PETE 391 
 
 to his care some ten thousand dollars in stolen gold. 
 But she had not stolen it for herself! For a tune 
 the thrill of that almost drove the fever from his 
 blood. 
 
 At length, after long staring into the blackness, 
 Rangy nodded his head sharply. The girl's purpose 
 was clear, though the motive back of it might still 
 be shrouded in the darkness of night. 
 
 "Ike," he called suddenly, still with that struggling 
 grip upon his senses, "Ring 'em Foster come with 
 you is Stipples and Dan Merrill there?" 
 
 "They wasn't here when I got in with Ring 'em, 
 or we mighta had a real scrap, but they both, come 
 since. They was riding together in a posse." 
 
 Rangy stared again, as though his faculties were 
 laboring. 
 
 "You come with Ring'em?" he asked. "How 
 come that you and Ring'em herded up together? 
 You mean to say it was you sloped out and told 
 Foster what was going on?" 
 
 Collander's simple and somewhat shamed nod 
 was the only answer. 
 
 "Good ole Ike!" Rangy muttered. "But yore 
 work ain't done yet. You bring them three persons 
 up here." 
 
 Through a period of fevered gripping at his flitting 
 senses, Rangy lay back and struggled with this 
 problem before him. Miss Dick had stolen, and yet 
 she had not stolen. She had more nearly played the
 
 392 RAMiY PETE 
 
 part of a Robin Hood. Through some strange cycle 
 of events which his imagination could not penetrate, 
 Miss Dick and Ring'em Foster must fit somewhere 
 into the patchwork of the past. But the problem 
 of that was too much for his tortured brain, particu- 
 larly when it brought with it a throb of pain which 
 almost deadened the memory of that warm kiss upon 
 his brow. 
 
 Things, at the best, were all topsy-turvy. The 
 one thing of which he could be certain was that it 
 was the girl who had warned Ring'em Foster many 
 nights ago to travel to Triple Butte and collect ten 
 thousand dollars from Dan Merrill. The threads 
 leading up to that did not matter. The money, by 
 the application of all moral codes, really belonged to 
 Foster, and Miss Dick had just been playing the 
 role of a Robin Hood. 
 
 Playing it for the sake of Ring'em Foster! The 
 thought of that was torment. 
 
 Still, she had helped to check up the debt-dodging 
 Dan Merrill and now that was the sound of Merrill's 
 querulous voice as the three men made their way 
 up the face of the cliff. 
 
 There was the tramping of feet, the mockery of 
 Merrill's sneering laughter; and when Rangy opened 
 his eyes, the three men stood there, in the shadows 
 of the moonlight, looking down upon him. In the 
 background was Ike Collander, looking wistfully at 
 .Rangy Pete, and with a huge derringer dangling at
 
 RANGY PETE 393 
 
 his right hip. Ike was bending upon Rangy many 
 reassuring nods, he tapped the derringer significantly. 
 
 "Well, Stipples, you got him at last!" Merrill 
 barked in a vicious voice whose echoes rumbled and 
 moaned their way into the inner caverns. " Got him., 
 Stipples! All nicked up, as he should be. Now, you 
 highwayman, don't you see how the tables can 
 turn?" 
 
 Rangy Pete blinked up through the shifting 
 moonlight. 
 
 " Kinda drag me out to the edge of the cave where 
 I can see yore faces better," he spoke almost tone- 
 lessly. "That's all right. Now, you three gents, 
 set back there in a row. Stipples, you get between 
 them two mavericks no you'd better unlimber 
 their guns 
 
 Merrill broke in with contemptuous laughter. 
 
 "What horse play is this?" he demanded. "I'll 
 line up for nobody. Stipples, put that fool under 
 arrest, and we'll drag him out to Triple Butte." 
 
 Though it cost him an effort, Rangy forced a smile 
 to his lips. 
 
 "If you're taking a tip from me, Merrill," he spoke 
 softly, "you'll be kinda hankering in about a minute 
 or two for Ring 'em not to have a gun in his fingers. 
 Now you gonna give up the hardware to Stipples?" 
 
 For the first time, it seemed, Merrill sensed some- 
 thing dramatic in the background. Still he blustered 
 violently as he handed his weapons to Stipples.
 
 394 RANGY PETE 
 
 "I'm here to get you for finishing off Sonnes," 
 he threatened ominously, "but it don't matter 
 whether it's me or Stipples who arrests you. You 
 finished Sonnes, 'cause Smithers saw you." 
 
 "Is that right, Rangy?" Ring'em Foster spoke 
 for the first time. His voice was cool and deliberate, 
 and in that instant, because of the man's calmness, 
 Rangy lost some of his wonder at the seeming peace 
 between Merrill and Foster. 
 
 It was not peace. It was, instead, the reserve of 
 judgment. 
 
 "Shore thing," Rangy agreed, "and when you 
 hear about it, you'll be giving me a medal." 
 
 "You see," Merrill bellowed his interruption, "he 
 admits it. We'd better string him up now, Ring'em." 
 
 Rangy raised his hand, and Ike Collander stepped 
 swiftly to his side, his eyes glaring with a hardness 
 rarely seen upon his flaccid countenance. 
 
 "That's all right, Ike," Rangy soothed. "We 
 ain't here to talk about Sonnes. Leastways, not till 
 we've finished that little talk what Ring'em and 
 Dan and me started in Tony Burke's back room a 
 night or so ago don't go to jerking that way, Dan. 
 Ring'em ain't got any guns on him. You remember, 
 Dan, you didn't know anything about ten thousand 
 dollars that night, what somebody wrote Ring'em to 
 collect?" 
 
 Merrill's features had abruptly lost the most of 
 their arrogance. The man's eyes darted swiftly from
 
 RANGY PETE 395 
 
 side to side, and for an instant they looked frantically 
 out into the moonlight, as though he were considering 
 the wisdom of hurried flight. 
 
 "There ain't no getting away from here, Dan," 
 Rangy went on, in weaker tones, " 'cause Ike's 
 standing over you with a derringer. Now, Stipples, 
 you just go to looking into these saddle bags 
 
 Stipples, the astounded, did as instructed. 
 
 When the yellow coins began to slither out into 
 the moonlight, Merrill reached forward with animal 
 swiftness. But Foster stood before him. 
 
 "Where did you find that, Rangy?" he asked 
 crisply. 
 
 "In a box of 'vaporated apples what Dan had 
 shipped in from the East. There's ten thousand 
 there, but you mustn't do anything rough, Ring'eirL 
 'cause Dan ain't done anything but double cross 
 you, same as he's been doing with everybody else. 
 You can't expect him to be paying his debts when 
 he's been saving up the yellow boys like this to skip 
 the country." 
 
 Rangy paused because of the ominous calm which 
 settled down upon them. 
 
 In that instant, Ring'em Foster reached swiftly 
 for his six-gun, but finding only the empty holster, 
 he dropped his hand with a gesture of disgust. Then 
 he stepped quickly forward and looked fairly into 
 Merrill's shrinking eyes. 
 
 "Remember what I told you, Merrill," Foster's
 
 396 RANGY PETE 
 
 voice came harsh and crisp. "I told you that if you 
 were trying to double-cross me, there wouldn't be 
 enough punchers at the Snaky Y to save yore hide. 
 Now what you got to say for yoreself?" 
 
 Merrill's only answer was a grasping of the fingers 
 towards that pile of glittering gold. 
 
 "It's not yours," Foster spoke with firm decision, 
 "and you'll never get yore hands on it again. 
 Stipples, take charge of it. And now you, Merrill - 
 what have you to say?" 
 
 For a time the man blustered; then he attempted 
 subterfuge. 
 
 "Shore, I'll pay it all to you, Foster," he whined. 
 "You know I had to find some way to get it into the 
 country. " 
 
 "To double-cross me, you mean," Foster's tones 
 had become deadly. "Stipples, give us back our 
 guns. One each - 
 
 "My God, no!" Merrill's thick tones had become 
 a scream. " Not that, Foster. I ain't in shape. You 
 know that. I been drinking." 
 
 Foster's contemptuous glance held him through 
 a moment of fear. 
 
 "I've got ten thousand more back at the Snaky Y," 
 Merrill's shaky voice went on, "That'll straighten 
 up everything, Ring'em, and I'll go square. Honest 
 to God, I will." 
 
 Dark purpose came into Foster's gaze. 
 
 "The guns, Stipples!"
 
 RANGY PETE 397 
 
 Stipples, whether dominated by Foster's command- 
 ing manner, or through sudden contempt for Merrill, 
 began to reach out the guns slowly, one towards each 
 man. 
 
 Foster reached out for his weapon, but Merrill, 
 with a gurgling in his throat, struck out savagely 
 and knocked his own gun from Stipples' hand. 
 
 "God, Foster, I'll square everything!" he pleaded 
 in a thickened voice. "Not that!" 
 
 "We know you'll square everything, one way or 
 the other," Foster's tones were relentless. "It's this 
 way, Merrill, gun to gun; or, it's out of the butte 
 country for you, and out of it forever. Get that? 
 Stay here with all the lead I can put into you, or 
 out you go!" 
 
 Merrill swung about swiftly. 
 
 "I'll go," he whined. "I'll go tonight. Let me 
 go back to the Snaky Y. I'll turn everything over 
 to Stipples, to square things." 
 
 "You've been a crook, haven't you, Merrill!" 
 Foster demanded unpityingly. "You've been trying 
 to double cross everybody, to pile up a nice little 
 fortune to skip the country with. Isn't that so?" 
 
 Merrill's blood-drained features became suddenly 
 suffused with passion. He struggled for words, but 
 they would not come. 
 
 "True or not true?" Foster insisted menacingly. 
 
 "My God, man!" Merrill moaned. "You can't 
 expect me to say that."
 
 398 RANGY PETE 
 
 Foster edged a trifle closer. 
 
 "You were debt-dodging and piling up money 
 to skip," he_charged. "True or not true. No quibb- 
 ling." 
 
 Foster's gaze was a compelling one. It was hard 
 and cold with all the struggle of years, and now it 
 was dominating as well. 
 
 Abruptly Merrill swept a hand before his face as 
 though fearing a blow. 
 
 "It's true," he gulped, "but I'll square everything. 
 Honest to Heaven, I will, Ring 'em." 
 
 "You bet you will," Foster pronounced grimly. 
 "And then what will you do?" 
 
 Merrill cringed abjectly, in sudden haste to oblige. 
 
 "I'll get out of the country." 
 
 Ring'em Foster nodded sharply. 
 
 "It'd be a whole lot better if you'd shoot it out 
 with me," he returned peevishly. "It might save 
 some other gent the trouble of perforating you. 
 All right, Stipples. Gather up that yellow stuff. 
 If he won't be shot, we gotta put up with it and 
 escort him over the state line. March, pronto, you 
 gents. We'll get out of here." 
 
 Through the routine of departure, Ring'em Foster 
 went to stand for a moment over the improvised 
 couch of Rangy Pete. The latter's eyes, ho could 
 see, were dull, and there was the flush of fever upon 
 his cheeks. Rangy moved restlessly, and made as 
 though to speak, but Foster waved him into silence.
 
 RANGY PETE 399 
 
 "It's all right, Rangy, whatever it is," he said. 
 "You shore done a good day's work, and we ain't 
 gonna forget it." 
 
 Rangy 's eyes drifted towards the blackness of the 
 cave; he tried again to speak, then suddenly he sank 
 back into the vague land of darkness.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AFTER an eternal period of burning torment and 
 fantastic visions through which his brain seemed 
 never to rest, Rangy opened his eyes weakly and 
 stared listlessly about him. The scene was a strange 
 one, but nothing really mattered anyway.. There 
 were drab shadows all about, which appeared lo 
 have no part in the life he had always lived, and 
 there was a man sitting in front of him, with back 
 turned, and working at something which Rangy 
 could not see. 
 
 Something remotely familiar about that back 
 appealed to Rangy's dulled brain and held the weak 
 gaze of his eyes. It didn't matter; still he would like 
 to know what that person was doing there. 
 
 Rangy shifted in his position and was about to 
 speak, when the man suddenly turned upon him. 
 
 "Jumpin* Jericho!" that individual exclaimed 
 gladly. "You really got yore peepers open again, 
 Rangy? I been wonderin* if you was ever going to 
 consent to look on this wicked world again. Hnv's 
 something for you to drink. A friend of vorcs 
 brought it." 
 
 Ike Collander placed something to his lips, and 
 Rangy promptly dozed into slumber again; but this 
 
 400
 
 RANGY PETE 401 
 
 time it was sleep without those tormenting visions. 
 
 When he wakened again, his brain was much 
 clearer and his limbs felt less leaden. The fingers of 
 his memory began to toy with the past, and there 
 was a vague appreciation of the fact that all things 
 were not exactly as he would have them. There 
 was this cave and Ike Collander patient Ike 
 Collander, whose services hi a time of need were a 
 pleasing thing; but, there was something lacking. 
 
 In time his memory pieced together those ragged 
 patches of the past, and he knew just where the story 
 of his life had broken. 
 
 "Ike, how long have I been here?" he asked at 
 length. 
 
 "It's five days since you turned yore nose to the 
 wall and wouldn't recognize anybody," Collander 
 informed, with a sort of motherish hovering about 
 him, "But you're right now as a grass-fed maverick 
 and in about ten days we'll be hitting it back for 
 Triple Butte." 
 
 "Where's the rest of the army, and what's hap- 
 pened?" Rangy insisted. 
 
 "Nothing happened," Collander chuckled, "though 
 Ring 'em did have kind of a hard time to keep them 
 Snaky Y buckos from stringing up Dan Merrill, 
 when they heard he'd been planning to skip out 
 and leave them all howling for their wages. But 
 nothing happened. They went through the Pass 
 together, the Snaky Y and the Triangle and the
 
 402 RANGY PETE 
 
 Double K, and they mooched around a couple of 
 days looking for Dervishers." 
 
 "And they didn't find a single Dervisher?" Rangy 
 asked anxiously. "Shore you ain't lying to me, 
 Ike?" 
 
 "Honest to goodness, they didn't find so much 
 as hide or hair of a lone Dervisher," Collander 
 informed hurriedly, "but you should see the way 
 them Snaky Y boys knuckle to Ring'em. They 
 ain't no good without a leader." 
 
 Rangy leaned back with a sigh of relief. Miss 
 Dick, it became obvious, was completely able to 
 look after herself. Yet, in doing that, it left a sort 
 of aching void about the heart. 
 
 "Jumbo Irish is coming back in about a week or 
 ten days with a couple of cay uses to pack you out," 
 Collander went on. "They left us a lot of grub, and 
 now you've got nothing to do but pick up and get 
 to feeling yoreself again." 
 
 Ike Collander broke off abruptly, and instead of 
 returning to that unknown task of his, he stood 
 looking down upon Rangy Pete in a curious way. 
 
 "You're a funny one, Rangy," he blurted out at 
 last. "Who is the lady?" 
 
 "What lady?" Rangy's question was almost an 
 explosion of sound. "Don't stand there, Ike, trying 
 to be mysterious, but go on and tell me." 
 
 Ike considered a moment, as though attempting 
 to find the proper lead.
 
 RANGY PETE 403 
 
 "The lady what comes to see you each night just 
 at dusk," he informed in the end. "It's queer. Just 
 like one of them romances what I seen once on the 
 stage. She conies outa the dark of this cave every 
 night, sits with you for an hour, gets some things 
 to eat offen me, and then she goes back again 
 
 "Is she coming tonight, Ike?" Rangy demanded 
 excitedly. . 1 
 
 "I dunno. She said to me once that she'd come 
 as long as you're unconscious." 
 
 "Then, Ike, I'm gonna be unconscious tonight, 
 dead to the world; and don't you dare tell her any- 
 thing different. And when you see her coming, you 
 smooch it outa the way." 
 
 Rangy 's fever ran high all through that afternoon, 
 and as he tried to count the minutes it seemed to 
 him that time never before had dragged along on 
 such leaden feet. There was an insistent demand 
 that Miss Dick should come, and that demand was 
 leavened by the constant fear that she would not. 
 There was the danger that she might know of his 
 returning consciousness, that she may have heard 
 Ike Collander talking to him; there were menaces 
 which, in the mind of a sick man, will become 
 warped and magnified until in the end the whole 
 world seems distorted. 
 
 Through the dragging hours, Rangy Pete waited 
 with what patience he could, and when at length 
 the fading light of the sun permitted a grayness to
 
 404 RANGY PETE 
 
 creep into the blue of that thin patch of skyline 
 showing beyond the lip of the cave, his doubts grew 
 more at ease, and he began to picture just what Miss 
 Dick would look like when she crept out of the 
 darkness of the cave and came to sit by his side. 
 
 It was by an effort of the will alone that he was 
 able to close his eyes; but shortly he found that it 
 was more restful to practice thus the feigning of 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 Yet it was in one of those moments that the girl 
 came to him, so that in the end he did not see her 
 stealing out of the darkness. The first he knew of 
 her presence was the light touch of her fingers upon 
 bis forehead. Those fingers were cool, and soft and 
 mothering, and their faintest touch was a caress 
 through which he fancied he could read all manner 
 of glad tidings. He was wondering if that possessive- 
 ness in the girl's touch were but his sick imagining; 
 then he heard her voice, pitched low, yet touched 
 with rebuke. 
 
 "His fever is higher tonight. What have you been 
 doing to him, Ike?" 
 
 "Nothing, Miss," Collander evaded. "He seemed 
 to be tossing about a bit tliis afternoon, and that 
 makes me think he'll soon be coming to." 
 
 "You sure, Ike, you haven't been trying to feed 
 him something he shouldn't have, or something like 
 that?" 
 
 "Nary a thing, Miss," Ike protested, then shortly
 
 RANGY PETE 405 
 
 he rose and found some excuse to slip down over 
 the mouth of the cave to the ground below. 
 
 With Miss Dick so near him, with her mothering 
 fingers gently stroking the fever from his brow, and 
 with the faint little crooning of a song upon her lips, 
 Rangy found this assumed pose of unconsciousness 
 a difficult thing to maintain. He wondered that she 
 did not hear the fevered beating of his heart. Then 
 shortly he wondered if it were fair to take advantage 
 of her in this manner. He wondered so long that at 
 length one eye slipped open just a trifle and he 
 peered through the twilight at the girl's face. 
 
 The acuteness of his gaze must have carried its 
 own message to the girl's senses, for shortly the song 
 died upon her lips and she leaned forward eagerly. 
 
 There was such anxiety in her attitude that Rangy 
 found his pose an objectionable thing. So he opened 
 his eyes wide and stared up into her face. 
 
 Miss Dick gave a little cry which was all gladness. 
 
 "Ike," she called. "Here you, Ike (Hollander. 
 Come here at once. He's awake." 
 
 Rangy grinned to the limit of his capacity, though 
 he felt it was an absurd thing to do. 
 
 "They's no use calling Ike," he declared, "for 
 I've been awake all afternoon, and he knows it. 
 I told him to smooch it outa the way, 'cause there's 
 something I want to say to you, little Blue 
 Eyes." 
 
 "Then you've been fooling me by pretending to
 
 406 RANGY PETE 
 
 be unconscious?" the girl demanded, with a faint 
 suggestion of hauteur. 
 
 But Rangy's eyes held a pleading message aimed 
 to destroy the aloofness of any feminine dignity. 
 
 "Yes, little girl, 'cause I knew I could never get 
 along without you. I knew nothing would ever be 
 the same again if you didn't come tonight, and since 
 I been feeling yore fingers on my forehead, little 
 Blue Eyes, I know I ain't never going to lose you 
 again." 
 
 There was much more of it; there were so many 
 gentle words falling from Rangy's lips, that at 
 length the girl's eyes grew softer and deeper from 
 their peering into the future, and when she leaned 
 just a trifle closer, the man's arms raised and clasped 
 about her neck. For a very short space of time, 
 Miss Dick resisted the pressure of his arms, then 
 slowly, gently, she yielded to then' caress. 
 
 "But how can you ask me to marry you, Rangy? " 
 she asked, some time later, while the sparkle was 
 still showing in her eyes. "How can you, when you 
 know I am just a bandit, and when you know 
 nothing more about me?" 
 
 "There is nothing more I want to know, little 
 Blue Eyes, except that you are you. You got a 
 right to be a bandit if you wanta fye one." 
 
 "But you were going to teach me something about 
 the code of man," the girl reminded, with the glad- 
 ness of laughter upon her lips.
 
 RANGY PETE 407 
 
 "The code of man?" Rangy wondered. "Say, 
 Blue Eyes, the code of man what I was a gonna 
 teach to you ain't nothin', compared to the code of 
 woman what you've taught me. If you was brought 
 up a bandit, you shore have been a square one." 
 
 "Yes, Rangy, I was brought up a bandit," the 
 girl broke in, with reflective tones in her voice which 
 seemed to say there were new phases of life just 
 opening before her. "Dervisher Dick is my daddy, 
 and I have never known anything else but living 
 in the hills. I never knew until lately that it was 
 really wrong to live as the Dervishers live; but a 
 little while ago a man came along and taught me 
 some of the new things of life which I never knew 
 before, and now you - 
 
 "Another man?" Rangy demanded, with a pain 
 in his voice which no woman could ever have mis- 
 taken. "You don't mean, Blue Eyes, that there's 
 another man ' 
 
 "Another man taught me^the first things I ever 
 knew about right and wrong, " k the girl whispered 
 "He came into the hills, and I met him by chance. 
 He was so nice and kind, and I owe him an awful 
 lot- 
 
 A slight groan slipped from Rangy 's lips. 
 
 "Please, don't," he muttered. "I don't think I 
 can stand it ' 
 
 "I think you can," the girl went on, "for you 
 know him, Rangy. And you, too, owe something to
 
 408 RANGY PETE 
 
 him. I am going to tell you the man's name. He is 
 Ring'em Foster. You remember how his punchers 
 got me out of the Burke saloon that night when 
 I was foolish and wanted to see something of 
 life." 
 
 The sick man's eyes had become pained, like those 
 of a wounded animal, and yet they looked up into 
 her face firmly with a rebellious faith. 
 
 "And you love Ring'em?" he whispered wistfully. 
 
 Miss Dick laughed in a curious way. 
 
 "Love him? Why no! I think of him as another 
 daddy; he was so kind to me - 
 
 The balance of the sentence was quite smothered 
 in the folds of Rangy's arms, and this time there 
 was not even the faintest suggestion of resistance 
 in the girl's manner. 
 
 "Funny, ain't it?" Rangy laughed gladly, after 
 a few delirious minutes had raced away, "that I'm 
 gonna take you back to Triple Butte, after all?" 
 
 "And that you are going to teach to me the code 
 of man?" the girl whispered. "But is there no 
 danger for you, from the Snaky Y?" 
 
 Rangy Pete was too glad to see in the future any- 
 thing but the rose of promise. 
 
 "Danger?" he laughed. "They're eating out of 
 Ring'em's hand, and I'm thinking, when they know 
 all about it, you can have most anything you want 
 around Triple Butte. But we won't bother with 
 the Butte. We'll get a little ranch of our own."
 
 RANGY PETE 409 
 
 "Where you can teach me that code," the girl 
 interrupted laughingly. 
 
 "There ain't anything to teach you," Rangy 
 returned somewhat humbly, "for there'd have to 
 be a whole lot more in that code than I ever knew 
 of for it to be big enough to hold a patch to the code 
 of woman. Now, Blue Eyes, let's take a peek into 
 the future." 
 
 "You are tired now, Rangy Boy. Tomorrow, if 
 you are good, we will talk and we will plan for the 
 days when you are strong again." 
 
 The man sank back, weary from the joy of it all, 
 while the girl leaned above him once more, her lips 
 forming the crooning words of that melody of love 
 which is as old as life itself. 
 
 THE END
 
 OOQ 
 
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