THE SELTZER ij-^ijyjaniii I in \s^ss EX LIBRJS THE TWO-GUN MAN BY CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER \uthor of "The Range Riders," "The Coming of the Law," etc. A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY ENTERED AT STATIONERS HALL, LONDON, ENGLAND All rights reserved CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGB I. THE STRANGER AT DRY BOTTOM .... 9 II. THE STRANGER SHOOTS 19 III. THE CABIN IN THE FLAT 28 IV. A "DIFFERENT GIRL" 46 V. THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM 68 VI. AT THE Two DIAMOND 76 VII. THE MEASURE OF A MAN 84 VIII. THE FINDING OF THE ORPHAN . . . .105 IX. WOULD You BE A "CHARACTER"? . . .114 X. DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ORPHAN . . . 126 XI. A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR 138 XII. THE STORY BEGINS 150 XIII. "Do You SMOKE?" 167 XIV. ON THE EDGE OF THE PLATEAU .... 179 XV. A FREE HAND 210 XVI. LEVIATT TAKES A STEP 219 XVII. A BREAK IN THE STORY 244 XVIII. THE DIM TRAIL 263 XIX. THE SHOT IN THE DARK 276 XX. LOVE AND A RIFLE 286 XXI. THE PROMISE 298 XXII. KEEPING A PROMISE 305 XXHI. AT THE EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD . . .331 XXTV. THE END OF THE STORY . 344 M545958 THE TWO-GUN MAN THE TWO-GUN MAN CHAPTER I THE STRANGER AT DRY BOTTOM FROM the crest of Three Mile Slope the man on the pony could see the town of Dry Bottom straggling across the gray floor of the flat, its low, squat buildings looking like so many old boxes blown there by an idle wind, or un ceremoniously dumped there by a careless fate and left, regardless, to carry out the scheme of desolation. Apparently the rider was in no hurry, for, as the pony topped the rise and the town burst suddenly into view, the little ani- 9 THE TWO-GUN MAN mal pricked up its ears and quickened its pace, only to feel the reins suddenly tighten and to hear the rider s voice gruffly discour aging haste. Therefore, the pony pranced gingerly, alert, champing the bit impa tiently, picking its way over the lumpy hills of stone and cactus, but holding closely to the trail. The man lounged in the saddle, his strong, well-knit body swaying gracefully, his eyes, shaded by the brim of his hat, narrowed with slight mockery and interest as he gazed steadily at the town that lay before him. "I reckon that must be Dry Bottom," he said finally, mentally taking in its dimen sions. "If that s so, I ve only got twenty miles to go." Half way down the slope, and still a mile and a half from the town, the rider drew the pony to a halt. He dropped the reins over the high pommel of the saddle, drew out his two guns, one after the other, rolled the cylinders, and returned the guns to their holsters. He had heard something of Dry Bottom s reputation and in examining his 10 THE STRANGER pistols he was merely preparing himself for an emergency. For a moment after he had replaced the weapons he sat quietly in the saddle. Then he shook out the reins, spoke to the pony, and the little animal set for ward at a slow lope. An ironic traveler, passing through Dry Bottom in its younger days, before civic spirit had definitely centered its efforts upon things nomenclatural, had hinted that the town should be known as "dry" because of the fact that while it boasted seven build ings, four were saloons; and that "bottom" might well be used as a suffix, because, in the nature of things, a town of seven build ings, four of which were saloons, might rea sonably expect to descend to the very depths of moral iniquity. The ironic traveler had spoken with pro phetic wisdom. Dry Bottom was trying as best it knew how to wallow in the depths of sin. Unlovely, soiled, desolate of verdure, dumped down upon a flat of sand in a tree less waste, amid cactus, crabbed yucca, scor pions, horned toads, and rattlesnakes, Dry; 11 THE TWO-GUN MAN Bottom had forgotten its morals, subverted its principles, and neglected its God. As the rider approached to within a few hundred yards of the edge of town he be came aware of a sudden commotion. He reined in his pony, allowing it to advance at a walk, while with alert eyes he endeav ored to search out the cause of the excite ment. He did not have long to watch for the explanation. A man had stepped out of the door of one of the saloons, slowly walking twenty feet away from it toward the center of the street. Immediately other men had fol lowed. But these came only to a point just outside the door. For some reason which was not apparent to the rider, they were giving the first man plenty of room. The rider was now able to distinguish the faces of the men in the group, and he gazed with interested eyes at the man who had first issued from the door of the saloon. The man was tall nearly as tall as the rider and in his every movement seemed sure of himself. He was young, seemingly 12 THE STRANGER about thirty-five, with shifty, insolent eyes and a hard mouth whose lips were just now: curved into a self-conscious smile. The rider had now approached to within fifty feet of the man, halting his pony at the extreme end of the hitching rail that skirted the front of the saloon. He sat carelessly in the saddle, his gaze fixed on the man. The men who had followed the first man out, to the number of a dozen, were appar ently deeply interested, though plainly skeptical. A short, fat man, who was stand ing near the saloon door, looked on with a half -sneer. Several others were smiling blandly. A tall man on the extreme edge of the crowd, near the rider, was watching the man in the street gravely. Other men had allowed various expressions to creep into their faces. But all were silent. Not so the man in the street. Plainly, here was conceit personified, and yet a con ceit mingled with a maddening insolence. His expression told all that this thing which he was about to do was worthy of the closest 13 THE ^TWO-GUN MAN attention. He was the axis upon which the interest of the universe revolved. Certainly he knew of the attention he was attracting. Men were approaching from the other end of the street, joining the group in front of the saloon which the rider now noticed was called the "Silver Dollar." The newcomers were inquisitive; they spoke in low tones to the men who had arrived before them, gravely inquiring the cause. But the man in the street seemed not dis turbed by his rapidly swelling audience. He stood in the place he had selected, his insolent eyes roving over the assembled com pany, his thin, expressive lips opening a very little to allow words to filter through them. "Gents," he said, "you re goin to see some shootin ! I told you in the Silver Dol lar that I could keep a can in the air while I put five holes in it. There s some of you gassed about bein showed, not believin . An now I m goin to show you!" He reached down and took up a can that 14 THE STRANGER had lain at his feet, removing the red litho graphed label, which had a picture of a large tomato in the center of it. The can was revealed, naked and shining in the white sunlight. The man placed the can in his left hand and drew his pistol with the right. Then he tossed the can into the air. While it still rose his weapon exploded, the can shook spasmodically and turned clear over. Then in rapid succession followed four other explosions, the last occurring just before the can reached the ground. The man smiled, still holding the smoking weapon in his hand. The tall man on the extreme edge of the group now stepped forward and examined the can, while several other men crowded about to look. There were exclamations of surprise. It was curious to see how quickly enthusiasm and awe succeeded skepticism. "He s done it, boys!" cried the tall man, holding the can aloft. "Bored it in five places!" He stood erect, facing the crowd. "I reckon that s some shootinT He now 15 THE TWO-GUN MAN threw a glance of challenge and defiance about him. "I ve got a hundred dollars to say that there ain t another man in this here town can do it!" Several men tried, but none equaled the first man s performance. Many of the men could not hit the can at all. The first man watched their efforts, sneers twitching his lips as man after man failed. Presently all had tried. Watching closely, the rider caught an expression of slight disappointment on the tall man s face. The rider was the only man who had not yet tried his skill with the pistol, and the man in the street now looked up at him, his eyes glittering with an insolent challenge. As it happened, the rider glanced at the shooter at the instant the latter had turned to look up at him. Their eyes met fairly, the shooter s conveying a silent taunt. The rider smiled, slight mockery glinting his eyes. Apparently the stranger did not care to try his skill. He still sat lazily in the sad dle, his gaze wandering languidly over the crowd. The latter plainly expected him to 16 THE STRANGER take part in the shooting match and was im patient over his inaction. "Two-gun," sneered a man who stood near the saloon door. "I wonder what he totes them two guns for?" The shooter heard and turned toward the man who had spoken, his lips wreathed sa tirically. "I reckon he wouldn t shoot nothin with them," he said, addressing the man who had spoken. Several men laughed. The tall man who had revealed interest before now raised a hand, checking further comment. "That offer of a hundred to the man who can beat that shootin still goes," he de clared. "An I m taking off the condition. The man that tries don t have to belong to Dry Bottom. No stranger is barred!" The stranger s glance again met the shooter s. The latter grinned felinely. Then the rider spoke. The crowd gave him its polite attention. "I reckon you-all think you ve seen some shootin ," he said in a steady, even voice, 17 THE TWO-GUN MAN singularly free from boast. "But I reckon you ain t seen any real shootinV He turned to the tall, grave-faced man. "I ain t got no hundred," he said, "but I m goin to show you." He still sat in the saddle. But now with an easy motion he swung down and hitched his pony to the rail. 18 CHAPTER II THE STRANGER SHOOTS THE stranger seemed taller on the ground than in the saddle and an admirable breadth of shoulder and slenderness of waist told eloquently of strength. He could not have been over twenty-five or six. Yet certain hard lines about his mouth, the glint of mockery in his eyes, the pronounced forward thrust of the chin, the indefinable force that seemed to radiate from him, told the casual observer that here was a man who must be ap proached with care. But apparently the shooter saw no such signs. In the first glance that had been ex changed between the two men there had been a lack of ordinary cordiality. And 19 THE TWO-GUN MAN now, as the rider slid down from his pony and advanced toward the center of the street, the shooter s lips curled. Writhing through them came slow-spoken words. "You runnin sheep, stranger?" The rider s lips smiled, but his eyes were steady and cold. In them shone a flash of cold humor. He stood, quietly contemplat ing his insulter. Smiles appeared on the faces of several of the onlookers. The tall man with the grave face watched with a critical eye. The insult had been deliberate, and many men crouched, plainly expecting a serious out come. But the stranger made no move toward his guns, and when he answered he might have been talking about the weather, so casual was his tone. "I reckon you think you re a plum man," he said quietly. "But if you are, you ain t showed it much buttin in with that there wise observation. An there s some men who think that shootin at a man is more excitin than shootin at a can." There was a grim quality in his yoice now. 20 THE STRANGER SHOOTS He leaned forward slightly, his eyes cold and alert. The shooter sneered experiment ally. Again the audience smiled. But the tall man now stepped forward. "You ve made your play, stranger," he said quietly. "I reckon it s up to you to make good." "Correct," agreed the stranger. "I m goin to show you some real shootin . You got another can?" Some one dived into the Silver Dollar and returned in a flash with another tomato can. This the stranger took, removing the label, as the shooter had done. Then, smiling, he took a position in the center of the street, the can in his right hand. He did not draw his weapon as the shooter had done, but stood loosely in his place, his right hand still grasping the can, the left swinging idly by his side. Apparently he did not mean to shoot. Sneers reached the faces of several men in the crowd. The shooter growled, "Fourflush." There was a flash as the can rose twenty fee,t in the air, propelled by the right hand 21 THE TWO-GUN MAN of the stranger. As the can reached the apex of its climb the stranger s right hand descended and grasped the butt of the weapon at his right hip. There was a flash as the gun came out; a gasp of astonish ment from the watchers. The can was ar rested in the first foot of its descent by the shock of the first bullet striking it. It jumped up and out and again began its in terrupted fall, only to stop dead still in the air as another bullet struck it. There was an infinitesimal pause, and then twice more the can shivered and jumped. No man in the crowd but could tell that the bullets were striking true. The can was still ten feet in the air and well out from the stranger. The latter whipped his weapon to a level, the bullet striking the can and driving it twenty feet from him. Then it dropped. But when it was within five feet of the ground the stranger s gun spoke again. The can leaped, careened sideways, and fell, shat tered, to the street, thirty feet distant from, the stranger. H THE STRANGER SHOOTS Several men sprang forward to examine it. "Six times!" ejaculated the tall man in an awed tone. "An* he didn t pull his gun till he d throwed the can!" He approached the stranger, drawing him confidentially aside. The crowd slowly dis persed, loudly proclaiming the stranger s ability with the six-shooter. The latter took his honors lightly, the mocking smile again on his face. "I m lookin for a man who can shoot," said the tall man, when the last man of the crowd had disappeared into the saloon. The stranger smiled. "I reckon you ve just seen some shootin ," he returned. The tall man smiled mirthlessly. "You particular about what you shoot at?" he inquired. The stranger s lips straightened coldly. "I used to have that habit," he returned evenly. "Hard luck?" queried the tall man. "I m rollin in wealth," stated the stranger, with an ironic sneer. 23 THE TWO-GUN MAN The tall man s eyes glittered. "Where you from?" he questioned. "You e n have three guesses," returned the stranger, his eyes narrowing with the mockery that the tall man had seen in them before. The tall man adopted a placative tone. "I ain t wantin to butt into your business," he said. "I was wantin to find out if any one around here knowed you." "This town didn t send any reception committee to meet me, did they?" smiled the stranger. "Correct," said the tall man. He leaned closer. "You willin to work your guns for me for a hundred a month?" The stranger looked steadily into the tall man s eyes. "You ve been right handy askin ques tions," he said. "Mebbe you ll answer some. IWhat s your name?" "Stafford," returned the tall man. "I m managin the Two Diamond, over on the lite." The stranger s eyelashes flickered slightly. THE STRANGER SHOOTS His eyes narrowed quizzically. "What you wantin of a gun-man?" he asked. "Rustler," returned the other shortly. The stranger smiled. "Figger on shoot- in him?" he questioned. Stafford hesitated. "Well, no," he re turned. "That is, not until I m sure I ve got the right one." He seized the stranger s arm in a confidential grip. "You see," he explained, "I don t know just where I m at. There s been a rustler workin on the herd, an I ain t been able to get close enough to find out who it is. But rustlin has got to be stopped. I ve sent over to Raton to get a man named Ned Ferguson, who s been workin for Sid Tucker, of the Lazy J. Tucker wrote me quite a while back, tellin me that this man was plum slick at nosin out rustlers. He was to come to the Two Diamond two weeks ago. But he ain t showed up, an I ve about concluded that he ain t comin . An so I come over to Dry Bottom to find a man." "You ve found one," smiled the stranger. Stafford drew out a handful of double 35 THE TWO-GUN MAN eagles and pressed them into the other s hand. "I m goin over to the Two Diamond now," he said. "You d better wait a day or two, so s no one will get wise. Come right to me, like you was wantin a job." He started toward the hitching rail for his pony, hesitated and then walked back. "I didn t get your name," he smiled. The stranger s eyes glittered humorously. "It s Ferguson," he said quietly. Stafford s eyes widened with astonish ment. Then his right hand went out and grasped the other s. "Well, now," he said warmly, "that s what I call luck." Ferguson smiled. "Mebbe it s luck," he returned. "But before I go over to work for you there s got to be an understandin . I c n shoot some," he continued, looking steadily at Stafford, "but I ain t runnin around the country shootin men without cause. I m willin to try an find your rustler for you, but I ain t shootin him unless he goes to crowdin me mighty close." "I m agreein to that," returned Stafford S6 THE STRANGER SHOOTS He turned again, looking back over his shoulder. "You ll sure be over?" he ques tioned. "I ll be there the day after to-morrow," stated Ferguson. He turned and went into the Silver Dol lar. Stafford mounted his pony and loped rapidly out of town. CHAPTER III THE CABIN IN THE FLAT IT was the day appointed by Ferguson for his presence at the Two Diamond ranch, and he was going to keep his word. Three hours out of Dry Bottom he had struck the Ute trail and was loping his pony through a cottonwood that skirted the river. It was an enchanted country through which he rode; a land of vast distances, of white sunlight, blue skies, and clear, pure air. Mountains rose in the distances, their snowcapped peaks showing above the clouds like bald rock spires above the calm level of the sea. Over the mountains swam the sun, its lower rim slowly disappearing be hind the peaks, throwing off broad white shafts of light that soon began to dim as 28 THE CABIN IN THE FLAT vari-colors, rising in a slumberous haze like a gauze veil, mingled with them. Ferguson s gaze wandered from the trail to the red buttes that fringed the river. He knew this world; there was no novelty here for him. He knew the lava beds, looming gray and dead beneath the foothills; he knew the grotesque rock shapes that seemed to hint of a mysterious past. Nature had not altered her face. On the broad levels were the yellow tinted lines that told of the presence of soap-weed, the dark lines that betrayed the mesquite, the saccatone belts that marked the little guillies. Then there were the barrancas, the arid stretches where the sage-brush and the cactus grew. Snaky octilla dotted the space; the crabbed yucca had not lost its ugliness. Ferguson looked upon the world with un seeing eyes. He had lived here long and the country had not changed. It would never change. Nothing ever changed here but the people. But he himself had not changed. Twen ty-seven years in this country was a long 29 THE TWO-GUN MAN time, for here life was not measured by age, but by experience. Looking back over the years he could see that he was living to-day as he had lived last year, as he had lived during the last decade a hard life, but hav ing its compensations. His coming to the Two Diamond ranch was merely another of those incidents that, during the past year, had broken the mo notony of range life for him. He had had some success in breaking up a band of cattle thieves which had made existence miserable for Sid Tucker, his employer, and the latter had recommended him to Stafford. The promise of high wages had been attractive, and so he had come. He had not expected to surprise any one. When during his con versation with the tall man in Dry Bottom he had discovered that the latter was the man for whom he was to work he had been surprised himself. But he had not revealed his surprise. Experience and association with men who kept their emotions pretty much to themselves had taught him the value of repression when in the presence of others. 30 THE CABIN IN THE FLAT But alone he allowed his emotions full play. There was no one to see, no one to hear, and the silence and the distances, and the great, swimming blue sky would not tell. Stafford s action in coming to Dry Bot tom for a gunfighter had puzzled him not a little. Apparently the Two Diamond man ager was intent upon the death of the rus tler he had mentioned. He had been search ing for a man who could "shoot," he had said. Ferguson had interpreted this to mean that he desired to employ a gunfighter who would not scruple to kill any man he pointed out, whether innocent or guilty. He had had some experience with unscrupulous ranch managers, and he had admired them very little. Therefore, during the ride to day, his lips had curled sarcastically many times. Riding through a wide clearing in the cot- tonwood, he spoke a thought that had trou bled him not a little since he had entered Stafford s employ. "^Why," he said, as he rode along, sitting 31 THE TWO-GUN MAN carelessly in the saddle, "he s wantin to* make a gunfighter out of me. But I reckon I ain t goin to shoot no man unless I m pretty sure he s gunnin for me." His lips curled ironically. "I wonder what the boys of the Lazy J would think if they knowed that a guy was tryin to make a gunfighter out of their old straw boss. I reckon they d think that guy was loco or a heap mistaken in his man. But I m seein this thing through. I ain t ridin a hundred miles just to take a look at the man who s hirin me. It ll be a change. An when I go back to the Lazy J " It was not the pony s fault. Neither was it Ferguson s. The pony was experienced; behind his slant eyes was stored a world of horse-wisdom that had pulled him and his rider through many tight places. And Fer guson had ridden horses all his life; he would not have known what to do without one. But the pony stumbled. The cause was a prairie-dog hole, concealed under a clump of matted mesquite. Ferguson lunged for- THE CABIN IN THE FLAT ward, caught at the saddle horn, missed it, and pitched head-foremost out of the saddle, turning completely over and alighting upon his feet. He stood erect for an instant, but the momentum had been too great. He went down, and when he tried to rise a twinge of pain in his right ankle brought a grimace to his face. He arose and hopped over to a flat rock, near where his pony now stood grazing as though nothing had happened. Drawing off his boot, Ferguson made a rapid examination of the ankle. It was in flamed and painful, but not broken. He believed he could see it swelling. He rubbed it, hoping to assuage the pain. The woolen sock interfered with the rubbing, and he drew it off. For a few minutes he worked with the ankle, but to little purpose. He finally be came convinced that it was a bad sprain, and he looked up, scowling. The pony turned an inquiring eye upon him, and he grinned, suddenly smitten with the humor of the situation. 33 THE TWO-GUN MAN "You ain t got no call to look so dog- goned innocent about it," he said. "If you d been tendin to your business, you wouldn t have stepped into no damned gopher hole." The pony moved slowly away, and he looked whimsically after it, remarking: "Mebbe if I d been tendin to my business it wouldn t have happened, either." He spoke again to the pony. "I reckon you know that too, Mustard. You re some wise." The animal was now at some little dis tance from the rock upon which he was sit ting. He arose, hobbling on one foot toward it, carrying the discarded boot in his hand. He thought of riding with the foot bare. At the Two Diamond he was sure to find some sort of liniment which, with the help of a bandage, would materially; assist nature in He was passing a filmy mesquite clump the bare foot swinging wide. There was a warning rattle; a sharp thrust of a flat, brown head. Ferguson halted in astonishment, almost 34 THE CABIN IN THE FLAT knocked off his balance with the sudden ness of the attack. He still held the boot, his fingers gripping it tightly. He raised it, with a purely involuntary motion, as though to hurl it at his insidious enemy. But he did not. The arm fell to his side, and his face slowly whitened. He stared dully and uncomprehendingly at the sinu ous shape that was slipping noiselessly away through the matted grass. Somehow, he had never thought of being bitten by a rattler. He had seen so many of them that he had come to look upon them only as targets at which he might shoot when he thought he needed prac tice. And now he was bitten. The unreal ity of the incident surprised him. He looked around at the silent hills, at the sun that swam above the mountain peaks, at the great, vast arc of sky that yawned above him. Hills, sky, and sun seemed also un real. It was as though he had been sud denly thrust into a land of dreams. But presently the danger of the situation burst upon him, and he lived once more 35 THE TWO-GUN MAN in the reality. He looked down at his foot. A livid, pin-point wound showed in the flesh beside the arch. A tiny stream of blood was oozing from it. He forgot the pain of the sprained ankle and stood upon both feet, his body suddenly rigid, his face red with a sudden, consuming anger, shak ing a tense fist at the disappearing rattler. "You damned sneak!" he shouted shrilly. In the same instant he had drawn one of his heavy guns and swung it over his head. Its crashing report brought a sudden swish ing from beneath the grass, and he hopped over closer and sent three more bullets into the threshing brown body. He stood over it for a moment, his teeth showing in a savage snarl. "You won t bite any one else, damn you!" he shouted. The impotence of this conduct struck him immediately. He flushed and drooped his head, a grim smile slowly wearing down his expression of panic. Seldom did he al low his emotions to reveal themselves so plainly. But the swiftness of the rattler s 36 THE CABIN IN THE FLAT attack, the surprise when he had not been thinking of such a thing, the fact that he was far from help and that his life was in danger all had a damaging effect upon his self-control. And yet the smile showed that he was still master of himself. Very deliberately he returned to the rock upon which he had been sitting, ripping off his coat and tearing away the sleeve of his woollen shirt. Twisting the sleeve into the form of a rude rope, he tied it loosely around his leg, just above the ankle. Then he thrust his knife between the improvised rope and the leg, forming a crude tourni quet. He twisted the knife until tears of pain formed in his eyes. Then he fastened the knife by tucking the haft under the rope. His movements had been very delib erate, but sure, and in a few minutes he hobbled to his pony and swung into the saddle. He had seen men who had been bitten by rattlers had seen them die. And he knew: that if he did not get help within half an hour there would be little use of doing any- 37 THE TWO-GUN MAN thing further. In half an hour the virus would have so great a grip upon him that it would be practically useless to apply any of the antidotes commonly known to the inhabitants of the country. Inquiries that he had made at Dry Bot tom had resulted in the discovery that the Two Diamond ranch was nearly thirty miles from the town. If he had averaged eight miles an hour he had covered about twenty-four miles of the distance. That would still leave about six. And he could not hope to ride those six miles in time to get any benefit from an antidote. His lips straightened, he stared grimly at a ridge of somber hills that fringed the sky line. They had told him back in Dry Bot tom that the Two Diamond ranch was some where in a big basin below those hills. "I reckon I won t get there, after all," he said, commenting aloud. Thereafter he rode grimly on, keeping a good grip upon himself for he had seen men bitten by rattlers who had lost their self -Control and they had not been good to 38 THE CABIN IN THE FLAT look upon. Much depended upon coolness ; somewhere he had heard that it was a mis take for a bitten man to exert himself in the first few minutes following a bite; exer tion caused the virus to circulate more rap idly through the system. And so he rode at an even pace, carefully avoiding the rough spots, though keeping as closely to the trail as possible. "If it hadn t been a diamond-back an a five-foot one this rope that I ve got around my leg might be enough to fool him," he said once, aloud. "But I reckon he s got me." His eyes lighted savagely for an instant. "But I got him, too. Had the nerve to think that he could get away after throw- in his hooks into me." Presently his eyes caught the saffron light that glowed in the western sky. He laughed with a grim humor. "I ve heard tell that a snake don t die till sundown much as you hurt him. If that s so, an I don t get to where I c n get some help, I reckon it ll be a stand off between him an me as to who s goin first." 39 THE TWO-GUN MAN A little later he drew Mustard to a halt, sitting very erect in the saddle and fixing his gaze upon a tall cottonwood tree that rose near the trail. His heart was racing madly, and in spite of his efforts, he felt himself swaying from side to side. He had often seen a rattler doing that flat, ugly head raised above his coiled body, forked tongue shooting out, his venomous eyes glittering, the head and the part of the body rising above the coils swaying grace fully back and forth. Yes, gracefully, for in spite of his hideous aspect, there was a certain horrible ease of move ment about a rattler a slippery, sinuous motion that partly revealed reserve strength, and hinted at repressed energy. Many times, while watching them, he had been fascinated by their grace, and now, sit ting in the saddle, he caught himself won dering if the influence of a bite were great enough to cause the person bitten to imitate the snake. He laughed when this thought struck him and drove his spurs sharply against Mustard s flanks, riding forward 40 THE CABIN IN THE FLAT past the cottonwood at which he had been staring. "Hell!" he ejaculated, as he passed the tree, "what a fool notion." But he could not banish the "notion" from his mind, and five minutes later, when he tried again to sit steadily, he found the swaying more pronounced. The saddle seemed to rock with him, and even by jam ming his uninjured foot tightly into the ox bow stirrup he could not stop swaying. "Mebbe I won t get very far/ he said, realizing that the poison had entered his system, and that presently it would riot in his veins, "but I m goin on until I stop. I wouldn t want that damned rattler to know that he d made me quit so soon." He urged Mustard to a faster pace, even while realizing that speed was hopeless. He could never reach the Two Diamond. Con vinced of this, he halted the pony again, swaying in the saddle and holding, for the first time, to the pommel in an effort to steady himself. But he still swayed. He laughed mockingly. 41 THE TWO-GUN MAN "Now, what do you think of that?" he said, addressing the silence. "You might think I was plum tenderfoot an didn t know how to ride a horse proper." He urged the pony onward again, and for some little time rode with bowed head, trying to keep himself steady by watching the trail. He rode through a little clear ing, w^here the grass was matted and some naked rocks reared aloft. Near a clump of sage-brush he saw a sudden movement a rattler trying to slip away unnoticed. But the snake slid into Ferguson s vision and with a sneer of hate he drew one of his weapons and whipped it over his head, its roar awakening echoes in the wood. Twice, three times, the crashing report sounded. But the rattler whisked away and disap peared into the grass apparently unin jured. For an instant Ferguson scowled. Then a grin of mockery reached his flushed face. "I reckon I m done," he said. "Can t even hit a rattler no more, an him a brother or sister of that other one." A delirious THE CABIN IN THE FLAT light flashed suddenly in his eyes, and he seemed on the point of dismounting. "I ll cert nly smash you some!" he said, speak ing to the snake which he could no longer see. "I ain t goin to let no snake bite me an get away with it!" But he now smiled guiltily, embarrass ment shining in his eyes. "I reckon that wasn t the snake that bit you, Ferguson," he said. "The one that bit you is back on the trail. He ain t goin to die till sundown. Not till sundown," he repeated mechanic ally, grimly; "Ferguson ain t goin to die till sundown." He rode on, giving no attention to the pony whatever, but letting the reins fall and holding to the pommel of the saddle. His face was burning now, his hands were twitching, and an unnatural gleam had come into his eyes. "Ferguson got hooked by a rattler!" he suddenly exclaimed, hilarity in his voice. "He run plum into that reptile; tried to walk on him with a bare foot." The laugh was checked as suddenly as it had come, and 43 THE TWO-GUN MAN a grim quality entered his voice. "But Fer- guson wasn t no tenderfoot he didn t scare none. He went right on, not sayin anything. You see, he was reckonin to be man s size." He rode on a little way, and as he entered another clearing a rational gleam came into his eyes. "I m still a-goin it," he mut tered. A shadow darkened the trail; he heard Mustard whinny. He became aware of a cabin in front of him; heard an exclama tion ; saw dimly the slight figure of a woman^ sitting on a small porch; as through a mist, he saw her rise and approach him, standing on the edge of the porch, looking at him. He smiled, bowing low to her over hi$ pony s mane. "I shot him, ma am," he said gravely, "but he ain t goin to die till sundown." As from some great distance a voice seemed to come to him. "Mercy!" it said. "What is wrong? Who is shot?" "Why, the snake, ma am," he returned thickly. He slid down from his pony and 44 THE CABIN IN THE FLAT staggered to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the slender posts and hang ing dizzily on. "You see, ma am, that damned rattler got Ferguson. But Fergu son ain t reckonin on dyin till sundown. He couldn t let no snake get the best of him." He saw the woman start toward him, felt her hands on his arms, helping him upon the porch. Then he felt her hands on his shoulders, felt them pressing him down. He felt dimly that there was a chair under him, and he sank into it, leaning back and stretch ing himself out full length. A figure flitted before him and presently there was a sharp pain in his foot. He started out of the chair, and was abruptly shoved back into it. Then the figure leaned over him, prying his jaws apart with some metal like object and pouring something down his throat. He choked as he swallowed, vainly trying to brush away the object. "You re a hell of a snake," he said sav agely. Then the world blurred dizzily, and he drifted into oblivion. 45 CHAPTER IV A "DIFFERENT GIRL" FERGUSON had no means of know ing how long he was unconscious, but when he awoke the sun had gone down and the darkening shadows had stolen into the clearing near the cabin. He still sat in the chair on the porch. He tried to lift his injured foot and found to his sur prise that some weight seemed to be on it. He struggled to an erect position, looking down. His foot had been bandaged, and the weight that he had thought was upon it was not a weight at all, but the hands of a young woman. She sat on the porch floor, the injured foot in her lap, and she had just finished bandaging it. Beside her on the porch floor 46 A "DIFFERENT GIRL" was a small black medicine case, a sponge, some yards of white cloth, and a tin wash basin partly filled with water. He had a hazy recollection of the young woman ; he knew it must have been she that he had seen when he had ridden up to the porch. He also had a slight remembrance of having spoken to her, but what the words were he could not recall. He stretched him self painfully. The foot pained frightfully, and his face felt hot and feverish; he was woefully weak and his nerves were tingling but he was alive. The girl looked up at his movement. Her lips opened and she held up a warning hand. "You are to be very quiet," she ad monished. He smiled weakly and obeyed her, leaning back, his gaze on the slate-blue of the sky. She still worked at the foot, fastening the bandage; he could feel her fingers as they passed lightly over it. He did not move, feeling a deep contentment. Presently she arose, placed the foot gen tly down, and entered the house. With 47 THE TWO-GUN MAN closed eyes he lay in the chair, listening to her step as she walked about in the house. He lay there a long time, and when he opened his eyes again he knew that he must have been asleep, for the night had come and a big yellow moon was rising over a rim of distant hills. Turning his head slightly, he saw the interior of one of the rooms of the cabin the kitchen, for he saw a stove and some kettles and pans hanging on the wall and near the window a table, over which was spread a cloth. A small kerosene lamp stood in the center of the table, its rays glimmering weakly through the window. He raised one hand and passed it over his fore head. There was still some fever, but he felt decidedly better than when he had awakened the first time. Presently he heard a light step and be came aware of some one standing near him. He knew it was the girl, even before she spoke, for he had caught the rustle of her dress. "Are you awake," she questioned. " L Why, yes, ma am," he returned. He 48 A "DIFFERENT ? GIRL" turned to look at her, but in the darkness he could not see her face. "Do you feel like eating anything?" she asked. He grinned ruefully in the darkness. "I couldn t say that I m exactly yearnin for grub," he returned, "though I ain t done any; eatin since mornin . I reckon a rattler s bite ain t considered to help a man s appetite any." He heard her laugh softly. "No," she re turned; "I wouldn t recommend it." He tried again to see her, but could not, and so he relaxed and turned his gaze on the sky. But presently he felt her hand on his shoulder, and then her voice, as she spoke firmly. "You can t lie here all night," she said. "You would be worse in the morning. And it is impossible for you to travel to-night. I am going to help you to get into the house. [You can lean your weight on my shoulder." He struggled to an erect position and made out her slender figure in the dim light from the window. He would have been 49 THE TWO-GUN "MAN afraid of crushing her could he have been induced to accept her advice. He got to his uninjured foot and began to hop toward the door, but she was beside him instantly pro testing. "Stop!" she commanded firmly. "If you do that it will be the worse for you. Put your hand on my shoulder!" / In the darkness he could see her eyes flash with determination, and so without further objection he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, and in this manner they made their way through the door and into the cabin. Once inside the door he halted, blinking at the light and undecided. But she promptly led him toward another door, into a room containing a bed. She led him to the bed side and stood near him after he had sunk down upon it. "You are to sleep here to-night," she said. "To-morrow, if you are considerably better, I may allow you to travel." She went out, returning immediately with a small bottle containing medicine. "If you feel worse during the night," she directed, "you must 50 A "DIFFERENT GIRL" take a spoonful from that bottle. If you think you need anything else, don t hesitate to call. I shall be in the next room." He started to voice his thanks, but she cut him short with a laugh. "Good-night," she said. Then she went out and closed the door after her. He awoke several times during the night and each time took a taste of the medicine in the bottle. But shortly after midnight he fell into a heavy sleep, from which he did not awaken until the dawn had come. He lay quiet for a long time, until he heard steps in the kitchen, and then he rose and went to the door, throwing it open and standing on the threshold. She was standing near the table, a coffee pot in her hand. Her eyes widened as she saw him. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You are yery; much better!" He smiled. "I m thankin you for it, ma am," he returned. "I cert nly wouldn t have been feelin anything if I hadn t met you when I did." 51 THE TWO-GUN MAN She put the coffee pot down and looked gravely at him. "You were in very bad shape when you came," she admitted. "There was a time when I thought my remedies would not pull you through. They would not had you come five minutes later." He had no reply to make to this, and he stood there silent, until she poured coffee into a cup, arranged some dishes, and then invited him to sit at the table. He needed no second invitation, for he had been twenty-four hours without food. And he had little excuse to complain of the quality of the food that was set before him. He ate in silence and when he had finished he turned away from the table to see the girl dragging a rocking chair out upon the porch. She returned immediately, smiling at him. "Your chair is ready," she said. "I think you had better not exert yourself very much to-day." "Why, ma am," he expostulated, "I m feelin right well. I reckon I could be; 52 A "DIFFERENT GIRL" travelin now. I ain t used to bein babied this way." "I don t think you are being babied, she returned a trifle coldly. "I don t think that I would waste any time with anyone if I thought it wasn t necessary. I am merely telling you to remain for your own good. Of course, if you wish to disregard my ad- yice you may do so." He smiled with a frank embarrassment and limped toward the door. "Why, ma am," he said regretfully as he reached the door, "I cert nly don t want to do anything which you think ain t right, after what you ve done for me. I don t want to be little you, an I think that when I said that I might have been gassin a little. But I thought mebbe I d been enough trouble al ready." It was not entirely the confession itself, but the self-accusing tone in which it had been uttered that brought a smile to her face. "All the same," she said, "you are to do AS I tell you." 63 THE TWO-GUN MAN He smiled as he dropped into the chair on the porch. It was an odd experience for him. Never before in his life had anyone adopted toward him an air of even partial proprietorship. He had been accustomed to having people always men meet him upon a basis of equality, and if a man had adopted toward him the tone that she had employed there would have been an instant severing of diplomatic relations and a be ginning of hostilities. But this situation was odd a woman had ordered him to do a certain thing and he v was obeying, realizing that in doing so he was violating a principle, though conscious of a strange satisfaction. He knew that he had promised the Two Diamond manager, and he was convinced that, in spite of the pain in his foot, he was well enough to ride. But he was not going to ride ; her command had settled that. For a long time he sat in the chair, looking out over a great stretch of flat country which was rimmed on three sides by a fringe of low hills, and behind him by the cottonwood. 5* A "DIFFERENT GIRL" The sun had been up long; it was swimming above the rim of distant hills a ball of molten silver in a shimmering white blur. The cabin was set squarely in the center of a big clearing, and about an eighth of a mile behind him was a river the river that he had been following when he had been bitten by the rattler. He knew from the location of the cabin that he had not gone very far out of his way ; that a ride of an eighth of a mile would bring him to the Two Diamond trail. And he could not be very far from the Two Dia mond. Yet because of an order, issued by a girl, he was doomed to delay his appearance at the ranch. He had seen no man about the cabin. Did the girl live here alone? He was convinced that no woman could long survive the soli tude of this great waste of country some man a brother or a husband must share the cabin with her. Several times he caught himself hoping that if there was a man here it might be a brother, or even a distant rela tive. The thought that she might have a 55 THE TWO-GUN MAN husband aroused in him a sensation of vague disquiet. He heard her moving about in the cabin, heard the rattle of dishes, the swish of a broom on the rough floor. And then pres ently she came out, dragging another rocker. Then she re-entered the cabin, returning with a strip of striped cloth and a sewing basket. She seated herself in the chair, placed the basket in her lap, and with a half smile on her face began to ply the needle. He lay back contentedly and watched her. Hers was a lithe, vigorous figure in a white apron and a checkered dress of some soft material. She wore no collar; her sleeves were shoved up above the elbows, re vealing a pair of slightly browned hands and white, rounded arms. Her eyes were brown as her hair the latter in a tumble of graceful disorder. Through half closed eyes he was appraising her in a riot of admira tion that threatened completely to bias his judgment. And yet women had interested him very little. Perhaps that was because he had never 56 A "DIFFERENT GIEL" seen a woman like this one. The women that he had known had been those of the plains-town the unfortunates who through circumstances or inclination had been drawn into the maelstrom of cow-country vice, and who, while they may have found flattery, were never objects of honest admiration or respect. He had known this young woman only a few hours, and yet he knew that with her he could not adopt the easy, matter-of-fact intimacy that had answered with the other women he had known. In fact, the desire to look upon her in this light never entered his mind. Instead, he was filled with a deep ad miration for her an admiration in which there was a profound respect. "I expect you must know your business, ma am," he said, after watching her for a few minutes. "An 5 I m mighty glad that you do. Most women would have been pretty nearly flustered over a snake bite." "Why," she returned, without looking up, but exhibiting a little embarrassment, which betrayed itself in a slight flush, "I really 57 THE TWO-GUN MAN think that I was a little excited especially when you came riding up to the porch." She thought of his words, when, looking at her accusingly, he had told her that she was "a hell of a snake," and the flush grew, suf fusing her face. This of course he had not known and never would know, but the words had caused her many smiles during the night. "You didn t show it much," he observed. "You must have took right a-hold. Some women would have gone clean off the han dle. They wouldn t have been able to do anything." Her lips twitched, but she still gave her attention to her sewing, treating his talk with a mild interest. " There is nothing about a snake bite to become excited over. That is, if treatment is applied in time. In your case the tourni quet kept the poison from getting very far into your system. If you hadn t thought of that it might have gone very hard with you." "That rope around my leg wouldn t have done me a bit of good though, ma am, if I 63 A "DIFFERENT GIRL" hadn t stumbled onto your cabin. I don t know when seein a woman has pleased me more." She smiled enigmatically, her eyelashes flickering slightly. But she did not answer. Until noon she sewed, and he lay lazily back in the chair, watching her sometimes, sometimes looking at the country around him. They talked very little. Once, when he had been looking at her for a long time, she suddenly raised her eyes and they met his fairly. Both smiled, but he saw a blush mantle her cheeks. At noon she rose and entered the cabin. A little later she called to him, telling him that dinner was ready. He washed from the tin basin that stood on the bench just outside the door, and entering sat at the table and ate heartily. After dinner he did not see her again for a time, and becoming wearied of the chair he set out on a short excursion to ,the river. When he returned she was seated on the porch and looked up at him with a demure smile. 59 1 THE TWO-GUN MAN "You will be quite active by to-morrow," she said. "I ain t feelin exactly lazy now," he re turned, showing a surprising agility in reaching his chair. \ V When the sun began to swim low over the hills, he looked at her with a curiously grim smile. "I reckon that rattler was fooled last night," he said. "But if f oolin him had been left to me I expect I d have made a bad job of it. But I m thinkin that he done his little old dyin when the sun went down last night. An I m still here. An I ll keep right on, usin his brothers an sisters for targets when I think that I m needin practice." " "Then you killed the snake?" "Why sure, ma am. I wasn t figgerin to let that rattler go a-f annin right on to hook someone else. That d be encouragin his trade." She laughed, evidently pleased over his earnestness. "Oh, I see," she said. "Then you were not angry merely because he bit 60 A "DIFFERENT GIRL" you? You killed him to keep him from at tacking other persons?" He smiled. "I sure was some angry," he returned. "An I reckon that just at the time I wasn t thinkin much about other people. I was havin plenty to keep me busy." "But you killed him. How?" "Why I shot him, ma am. Was you thinkin that I beat him to death with some- thin ?" Her lips twitched again, the corners turn ing suggestively inward. But now he caught her looking at his guns. She looked from them to his face. "All cowboys do not carry two guns," she said suddenly. He looked gravely at her. "Well, no, ma am, they don t. There s some that claim carryin two guns is clumsy. But there s been times when I found them right con venient." She fell silent now, regarding her sewing. A quizzical smile had reached his face. This exchange of talk had developed the fact that she was a stranger to the country. No 61 THE TWO-GUN MAN Western girl would have made her remark about the guns. He did not know whether or not he was pleased over the discovery. Certain subtle signs about her had warned him in the be ginning that she was different from the other women of his acquaintance, but he had not thought of her being a stranger here, of her coming here from some other section of the country the East, for instance. Her being from the East would account for many things. First, it w T ould make plain to him why she had smiled several times dur ing their talks, over things in which he had been able to see no humor. Then it would answer the question that had formed in his mind concerning the fluency of her speech. Western girls that he had met had not at tained that ease and poise which he saw was hers so naturally. Yet in spite of this ac complishment she was none the less a woman demure eyed, ready to blush and become confused as easily as a Western woman. Assured of this, he dropped the slight con straint which up till now had been plain in 62 r A "DIFFERENT GIRL" his voice, and an inward humor seemed to draw the corners of his mouth slightly down ward. "I reckon that folks where you come from don t wear guns at all, ma am," he said slowly. She looked up quickly, surprised into meeting his gaze fairly. His eyes did not waver. She rocked vigorously, showing some embarrassment and giving undue at tention to her sewing. "How do you know that?" she ques tioned, raising her head and looking at him with suddenly defiant eyes. "I am not aware that I told you that I was a stranger here! Don t you think you are guessing now?" His eyes narrowed cunningly. "I don t think I need to do any guessin , ma am," he returned. "When a man sees a different girl, he don t have to guess none." The "different" girl was regarding him with furtive glances, plainly embarrassed under his direct words. But there was much defiance in her eyes, as though she was aware 63 THE TWO-GUN MAN of the trend of his words and was determined to outwit him. "I think you must be a remarkable man," she said, with the faintest trace of mockery in her voice, "to be able to discover such a thing so quickly. Or perhaps it is the at mosphere it is marvelous." "I expect it ain t exactly marvelous," he returned, laboring with the last word. "When a girl acts different, a man is pretty apt to know it." He leaned forward a little, speaking earnestly. "I know that I m talk- in pretty plain to you, ma am," he went on. "But when a man has been bit by a rattler an has sort of give up hope an has had his life saved by a girl, he s to be excused if he feels that he s some acquainted with the girl. An then when he finds that she s some dif ferent from the girls he s been used to seein , I don t see why he hadn t ought to take a lot of interest in her." "Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes drooping. [And then, her eyes dancing as they shot a swift glance at him "I should call that a pretty speech." 64. A "DIFFERENT GIEL" He reddened with embarrassment. "I ex pect you are laughin at me now, ma am," he said. "But I wasn t thinkin to make any pretty speeches. I was tellin you the truth." She soberly plied her needle, and he sat back, watching her. "I expect you are a stranger around herq yourself," she said presently, her eyes cov ered with drooping lashes. "How do you know that you have any right to sit there and tell me that you take an interest in me? How do you know that I am not married?" He was not disconcerted. He drawled slightly over his words when he answered. "You wouldn t listen at me at all, ma am ; you cert nly wouldn t stay an listen to any speeches that you thought was pretty, if you was married," he said. Plainly, he had not lost faith in the virtue of woman. "But if I did listen?" she questioned, her face crimson, though her eyes were still de fiant. He regarded her with pleased eyes. "I Ve been lookin for a weddin ring," he said. 65 THE TWO-GUN MAN She gave it up in confusion. "I don t know why I am talking this way to you," she said. "I expect it is because there isn t anything else to do. But you really are en tertaining!" she declared, for a parting shot. Once Ferguson had seen a band of travel ing minstrels in Cimarron. Their jokes (of an ancient vintage) had taken well with the audience, for the latter had laughed. Fer guson remembered that a stranger had said that the minstrels were "entertaining." And now he was entertaining her. A shadow passed over his face; he looked down at his foot, with its white bandage so much in evi dence. Then straight at her, his eyes grave and steady. "I m glad to have amused you, ma am," he said. "An now I reckon I ll be gettin* over to the Two Diamond. It can t be very far now." "Five miles," she said shortly. She had dropped her sewing into her lap and sat motionless, regarding him with level eyes. "Are you working for the Two Dia mond?" she questioned. 66 A "DIFFERENT GIRL" "Lookin for a job," he returned. "Ohl" The exclamation struck him as rather expressionless. He looked at her. "Do you know the Two Diamond folks?" "Of course." "Of course," he repeated, aware of the constraint in her voice. "I ought to have known. They re neighbors of your n." "They are not!" she suddenly flashed back at him. "Well, now," he returned slowly, puzzled, but knowing that somehow he was getting things wrong, "I reckon there s a lot that I don t know." "If you are going to work over at the Two Diamond," she said coldly, "you will know more than you do now. My " Evidently she was about to say something more, but a sound caught her ear and she rose, dropping her sewing to the chair. "My brother is coming," she said quietly. Standing near the door she caught Fer guson s swift glance. "Then it ain t a husband after all," he said, pretending surprise. 67 CHAPTER YJ THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM A YOUNG man rode around the corner of the cabin and halted his pony beside the porch, sitting quietly in the saddle and gazing inquiringly at the two. He was about Ferguson s age and, like the latter, he wore two heavy guns. There was about him, as he sat there sweep ing a slow glance over the girl and the man, a certain atmosphere of deliberate certainty and quiet coldness that gave an impression of readiness for whatever might occur. Ferguson s eyes lighted with satisfaction. The girl might be an Easterner, but the young man was plainly at home in this country. Nowhere, except in the West, could he have acquired the serene calm that 68 THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM shone out of his eyes; in no other part of the world could he have caught the easy as surance, the unstudied nonchalance, that seems the inherent birthright of the cow- puncher. "Ben," said the girl, answering the young man s glance, "this man was bitten by a rattler. He came here, and I treated him. He says he was on his way over to the Two Diamond, for a job." The young man opened his lips slightly. "Stafford hire you?" he asked. "I m hopin he does," returned Ferguson. The young man s lips drooped sneeringly. "I reckon you re wantin a job mighty bad," he said. Ferguson smiled. "Takin your talk, you an Stafford ain t very good friends," he re turned. The young man did not answer. He dis mounted and led his pony to a small corral and then returned to the porch, carrying his saddle. For an instant after the young man had left the porch to turn his pony into the cor- THE TWO-GUN MAN ral Ferguson had kept his seat on the porch. But something in the young man s tone had brought him out of the chair, de termined to accept no more of his hospi tality. If the young man was no friend of Stafford, it followed that he could not feel well disposed to a puncher who had avowed that his purpose was to work for the Two Diamond manager. Ferguson was on his feet, clinging to one of the slender porch posts, preparatory to stepping down to go to his pony, when the young woman came out. Her sharp ex clamation halted him. "You re not going now!" she said. "You have got to remain perfectly quiet until morning!" The brother dropped his saddle to the porch floor, grinning mildly at Ferguson, "You don t need to be in a hurry," he said. "I was intending to run your horse into the corral. What I meant about Stafford don t apply to you." He looked up at his sister, still grinning. "I reckon he ain t got noth ing to do with it?" 70 THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM The young woman blushed. "I hope not," she said in a low voice. "We re goin to eat pretty soon," said the young man. "I reckon that rattler didn t take your appetite?" Ferguson flushed. "It was plum re- diculous, me bein hooked by a rattler," he said. "An I ve lived among them so long." "I reckon you let him get away?" ques tioned the young man evenly. "If he s got away," returned Ferguson, his lips straightening with satisfaction, "he s a right smart snake." He related the incident of the attack, end ing with praises of the young woman s skill. The young man smiled at the reference to his sister. "She s studied medicine back East. Lately she s turned her hand to writ- in . Come out here to get experience local color, she calls it." Ferguson sat back in his chair, quietly digesting this bit of information. Medicine and writing. What did she write? Love stories? Fairy tales? Romances? He had read several of these. Mostly they were ab- 71 THE TWO-GUN MAN surd and impossible. Love stories, he thought, would be easy for her. For he said, mentally estimating her a woman ought to know more about love than a man. 1 And as for anything being impossible in a love story. Why most anything could hap pen to people who are in love. "Supper is ready," he heard her announce from within. Ferguson preceded the young man at the tin wash basin, taking a fresh towel that the young woman offered him from the door way. Then he followed the young man in side. The three took places at the table, and Ferguson was helped to a frugal, though wholesome meal. The dusk had begun to fall while they were yet at the table, and the young woman arose, lighting a kerosene lamp and placing it on the table. By the time they had finished semi-darkness had settled. Ferguson fol lowed the young man out to the chairs on the porch for a smoke. They were scarcely seated when there was a clatter of hoofs, and a pony and rider came 73 THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM out of the shadow of the nearby cotton- wood, approaching the cabin and halting be side the porch. The newcomer was a man of about thirty-five. The light of the kerosene lamp shone fairly in his face as he sat in the saddle, showing a pair of cold, steady eyes and thin, straight lips that were wreathed in a smile. "I thought I d ride over for a smoke an a talk before goin down the crick to where the outfit s workm ," he said to the young man. And now his eyes swept Ferguson s lank figure with a searching glance. "But I didn t know you was havin company," he added. The second glance that he threw toward Ferguson was not friendly. Ferguson s lips curled slightly under it. Each man had been measured by the other, and neither had found in the other anything to admire. Ferguson s thoughts went rapidly back to Dry Bottom. He saw a man in the street, putting five bullets through a can that he had thrown into the air. He saw again the man s face as he had completed his exhi- 73 THE TWO-GUN MAN bition insolent, filled with a sneering triumph. He heard again this man s voice, as he himself had offered to eclipse his feat: "You runnin sheep, stranger?" The voice and face of the man who stood before him now were the voice and face of the man who had preceded him in the shoot ing match in Dry Bottom. His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his host, explaining his presence. "This here man was bit by a rattler this afternoon," the young man was saying. "He s layin up here for to-night. Says he s reckonin on gettin a job over at the Two Diamond." The man on the horse sneered. "Hell!" he said; "bit by a rattler!" He laughed in solently, pulling his pony s head around. "I reckon I ll be goin ," he said. "You ll nurse him so s he won t die?" He had struck the pony s flanks with the spurs and was gone into the shadows before either man on the porch could move. There was a short si lence, while the two men listened to the beat 74 THE MAN OF DRY BOTTOM of his pony s hoofs. Then Ferguson turned and spoke to the young man. "You know him?" he questioned. The young man smiled coldly. "Yep," he said; "he s range boss for the Two Dia mond!" 75 CHAPTER VI r AT THE TWO DIAMOND AS Ferguson rode through the pure sunshine of the morning his thoughts kept going back to the little cabin in the flat "Bear Flat," she had caUed it. Certain things troubled him he, whose mind had been always untroubled even through three months of idleness that had not been exactly attractive. "She s cert nly got nice eyes," he told him self confidentially, as he lingered slowly on his way; "an* she knows how to use them. She sure made me seem some breathless. An no girl has ever done that. An 5 her hair is like" he pondered long over this "like why, I reckon I didn t just ever see any thing like it. An the way she looked at meP 76 AT THE TWO DIAMOND A shadow crossed his face. "So she s a writer an she s studied medicine. I reckon I d like it a heap better if she didn t monkey with none of them fool things. What busi ness has a girl got to " He suddenly laughed aloud. "Why I reckon I m pretty near loco," he said, "to be ravin about a girl like this. She ain t nothin* to me; she just done what any other girl would do if a man come to her place bit by a rattler." He spurred his pony forward at a sharp lope. And now he found that his thoughts would go back to the moment of his depart ure from the cabin that morning. She had accompanied him to the door, after bandag ing the ankle. Her brother had gone away an hour before. "I m thankin you, ma am," Ferguson said as he stood for a moment at the door. "I reckon I d have had a bad time if it hadn t been for you." "It was nothing," she returned. He had hesitated he stiU felt the thrill of doubt that had assailed him before he had taken the step that he knew was impertinent. 77 THE TWO-GUN MAN "I ll be ridin over here again, some day, if you don t mind," he said. Her face reddened a trifle. "I m sure brother would like to have you," she replied. "I don t remember to have said that I was comin over to see your brother," was his reply. "But it would have to be he," she said, looking straight at him. "You couldn t come to see me unless I asked you." And now he had spoken a certain word that had been troubling him. "Do you reckon that Two Diamond range boss comes over to see your brother?" She frowned. "Of course!" she replied. "He is my brother s friend. But I I de spise him!" Ferguson grinned broadly. "Well, now," he said, unable to keep his pleasure over her evident dislike of the Two Diamond man from showing in his eyes and voice, "that s cert nly too bad. An to think he s wastin his time ridin over here." She gazed at him with steady, unwaver ing eyes. He could still remember the chal- 78 AT THE TWO DIAMOND lenge in them. "Be careful that you don t waste your time !" was her answer. "I reckon I won t," was his reply, as he climbed into the saddle. "But I won t be comin over here to see your brother!" "Oh, dear!" she said, "I call that very brazen !" But when he had spurred his pony down through the crossing of the river he had turned to glance back at her. And he had seen a smile on her face. As he rode now he went over this conversation many times, much pleased with his own boldness; more pleased because she had not seemed angry with him. It was late in the morning when he caught sight of the Two Diamond ranch buildings, scattered over a great basin through which the river flowed. Half an hour later he rode up to the ranchhouse and met Stafford at the door of the office. The manager waved him inside. "I m two days late," said Ferguson, after he had taken a chair in the office. He re lated to Stafford the attack by the rattler. 79 THE TWO-GUN MAN The latter showed some concern over the in jury. "I reckon you didn t do your own doctor- in ?" he asked. Ferguson told him of the girl. The man ager s lips straightened. A grim humor shone from his eyes. "You stayed there over night?" he ques tioned. "I reckon I stayed there. It was in a cabin down at a place which I heard the girl say was called Bear Flat. I didn t ketch the name of the man." Stafford grinned coldly. "I reckon they didn t know what you was comin over here for?" "I didn t advertise," returned Ferguson (quietly. "If you had," declared Stafford, his eyes glinting with a cold amusement, "you would have found things plum lively. The man s name is Ben Radford. He s the man I m hirin you to put out of business 1" For all Stafford could see Ferguson did not move a muscle. Yet the news had 80 r AT THE TWO DIAMOND shocked him ; he could feel the blood surging rapidly through his veins. But the expres sion of his face was inscrutable. "Well, now," he said, "that sure would have made things interestin . An so that s the man you think has been stealin your cattle?" He looked steadily at the manager. "But I told you before that I wasn t doin any shootin ." "Correct," agreed the manager. "What I want you to do is to prove that Radf ord s the man. We can t do anything until we prove that he s been rustlin . An then " He smiled grimly. "You reckon to know the girl s name too?" inquired Ferguson. "It s Mary," stated the manager. "I ve heard Leviatt talk about her." Ferguson contemplated the manager gravely. "An you ain t sure that Radf ord s stealin your cattle?" Stafford filled and lighted his pipe. "I m takin Dave Leviatt s word for it," he said. "Who s Leviatt?" queried Ferguson. "My range boss," returned Stafford. 81 THE TWO-GUN MAN "He s been ridin sign on Radford an says he s responsible for all the stock that we ve been missin in the last six months." Ferguson rolled a cigarette. He lighted it and puffed for a moment in silence, the manager watching him. "Back at Dry Bottom," said Ferguson presently, "there was a man shootin at a can when I struck town. He put five bullets through the can. Was that your range boss?" Stafford smiled. "That was Leviatt my range boss," he returned. "We went over to Dry Bottom to get a gunfighter. We wanted a man who could shoot plum quick. He d have to be quick, for Radford s light- nin with a six. Leviatt said shootin at a can would be a good way to find a man who could take Radford s measure in case it was necessary," he added quickly. Ferguson s face was a mask of immobility. "Where s Leviatt now?" he questioned. "Up the Ute with the outfit." "How far up?" "Thirty miles." 82 r AT THE TWO DIAMOND Ferguson s eyelashes flickered. "Has Leviatt been here lately?" he questioned. "Not since the day before yesterday." "When you expectin him back?" "The boys ll be comin back in a week. He ll likely come along with them." "U um. You re giving me a free hand?" "Of course." Ferguson lounged to the door. "I m lookin around a little," he said, "to kind of size up things. I don t want you to put me with the outfit. That strike you right?" "I m hirin you to do a certain thing," returned Stafford. "I ain t tellin you how it ought to be done. You ve got till the fall roundup to do it." Ferguson nodded. He went to the corral fence, unhitched his pony, and rode out on the plains toward the river. Stafford watched him until he was a mere dot on the horizon. Then he smiled with satisfaction. "I kind of like that guy," he said, com menting mentally. "There ain t no show work to him, but he s business." 83 CHAPTER VII THE MEASURE OF A MAN DURING the week following Fergu son s arrival at the Two Diamond ranch Stafford saw very little of him. Mornings saw him proceed to the corral, catch up his pony, mount, and de part. He returned with the dusk. Several times, from his office window, Stafford had seen him ride away in the moonlight. Ferguson did his own cooking, for the cook had accompanied the wagon outfit down the river. Stafford did not seek out the new man with instructions or advice ; the work Ferguson was engaged in he must do alone, for if complications should happen to arise it was the manager s business to know nothing. 84 THE MEASURE OF A MAN The Two Diamond ranch was not unlike many others that dotted the grass plains of the Territory. The interminable miles that separated Stafford from the nearest, did not prevent him from referring to that par ticular owner as "neighbor", for distances were thus determined and distances thus determined were nearly always inaccurate. The traveler inquiring for his destination was expected to discover it somewhere in the unknown distance. The Two Diamond ranch had the envi able reputation of being "slick" which meant that Stafford was industrious and thrifty and that his ranch bore an appear ance of unusual neatness. For example, Stafford believed in the science of irrigation. A fence skirted his buildings, another ran around a large area of good grass, forming a pasture for his horses. His buildings were attractive, even though rough, for they re vealed evidence of continued care. His ranchhouse boasted a sloped roof and paved galleries. A garden in the rear was but another in- 85 THE TWO-GUN MAN stance of Stafford s industry. He had cattle that were given extraordinary care because they were "milkers," for in his youth Staf ford had lived on a farm and he remembered days when his father had sent him out into the meadow to drive the cows home for the milking. There were many other things that Stafford had not forgotten, for chickens scratched promiscuously about the ranch yard, occasionally trespassing into the sacred precincts of the garden and the flower beds. His horses were properly stabled during the cold, raw days that came inevitably ; his men had little to complain of, and there was a general atmosphere of prosperity over the entire ranch. But of late there had been little content ment for the Two Diamond manager. For six months cattle thieves had been at work on his stock. The result of the spring round-up had been far from satisfactory. He knew of the existence of nesters in the vicinity; one of them Radford he had suspected upon evidence submitted by the range boss. Radford had been warned to va- 86 THE MEASURE OF A MAN cate Bear Flat, but the warning had been disregarded. But one other course was left, and Staf ford had adopted that. There had been no hesitancy on the manager s part; he must protect the TW T O Diamond property. Senti ment had no place in the situation whatever. Therefore toward Ferguson s movements Stafford adopted an air of studied indiffer ence, not doubting, from what he had seen of the man, that he would eventually ride in and report that the work which he had been hired to do was finished. Toward the latter end of the week the wagon outfit straggled in. They came in singly, in twos and threes, bronzed, hardy, seasoned young men, taciturn, serene eyed, capable. They continued to come until there were twenty-seven of them. Later in the day came the wagon and the remuda. From a period of calm and inaction the ranch now awoke to life and movement. The bunkhouse was scrubbed; "swabbed" in the vernacular of the cowboys; the scant bedding was "cured" in the white sunlight; 87 THE TWO-GUN MAN and the cook was adjured to extend himself in the preparation of "chuck" (meaning food) to repay the men for the lack of good things during a fortnight on the open range with the wagon. At dusk on the first day in Rope Jones, a tall, lithe young puncher, whose spare mo ments were passed in breaking the wild horses that occasionally found their way to the Two Diamond, was oiling his saddle leathers. Sitting on a bench outside the bunkhouse he became aware of Stafford standing near. "Leviatt come in?" queried the manager. The puncher grinned. "Nope. Last I seen of Dave he was hittin the breeze to ward Bear Flat. Said he d be in later." He lowered his voice significantly. "Reckon that Radford girl is botherin Dave a heap." Stafford smiled coldly and was about to answer when he saw Ferguson dropping from his pony at the corral gate. Follow ing Stafford s gaze, Rope also observed Fer guson. He looked up at Stafford. "New man?" he questioned, 88 THE MEASURE OF A MAN Stafford nodded. He had invented a plausible story for the presence of Fer guson. Sooner or later the boys would have noticed the latter s absence from the outfit. Therefore if he advanced his story now there would be less conjecture later. "You boys have got enough to do," he said, still watching Ferguson. "I ve hired this man to look up strays. I reckon he c n put in a heap of time at it." Rope shot a swift glance upward at the manager s back. Then he grinned furtively. "Two-gun," he observed quietly; "with the bottoms of his holsters tied down. I reckon your stray-man ain t for to be monkeyed with." But Stafford had told his story and knew that within a very little time Rope would be telling it to the other men. So without an swering he walked toward the ranchhouse. Before he reached it he saw Leviatt unsad dling at the corral gate. When Ferguson, with his saddle on his shoulder, on his way to place it on its accus tomed peg in the lean-to adjoining the bunk- 89 THE TWO-GUN MAN house, passed Rope, it was by the merest ac cident that one of the stirrups caught the cinch buckle of Rope s saddle. Not observ ing the tangle, Ferguson continued on his way. He halted when he felt the stirrup strap drag, turning half around to see what was wrong. He smiled broadly at Rope. "You reckon them saddles are ac quainted?" he said. Rope deftly untangled them. "I ain t thinkin they re relations," he returned, grin ning up at Ferguson. "Leastways I never knowed a double cinch an a center fire to git real chummy." "I reckon you re right," returned Fer guson, his eyes gleaming cordially; "an I ve knowed men to lose their tempers discussin whether a center fire or a double cinch was the most satisfyin ." "Some men is plum fools," returned Rope, surveying Ferguson with narrow r , pleased eyes. "You didn t observe that the saddles rode any easier after the argument than before?" "I didn t observe. But mebbe the men 90 THE MEASURE OF A MAN was more satisfied. Let a man argue that somethin he s got is better n somethin that another fellow s got an he falls right in love with his own an goes right on fallin in love with it. Nothin c n ever change his mind after an argument." "I know a man who s been studyin human nature," observed Rope, grinning. "An not wastin his time arguin fool questions," added Ferguson. "You sure ain t plum greenhorn," de clared Rope admiringly. "Thank yu ," smiled Ferguson; "I wasn t lookin to see whether you d cut your eye- teeth either." "Well, now," remarked Rope, rising and shouldering his saddle, "you ve almost con vinced me that a double cinch ain t a bad saddle. Seems to make a man plum good humored." "When a man s hungry an right close to the place where he s goin to feed," said Fer guson gravely, "he hadn t ought to bother his head about nothin ." "You re settin at my right hand at the 91 THE TWO-GUN MAN table," remarked Rope, delighted with his new friend. Several of the men were already at the washtrough when Rope and Ferguson reached there. The method by which they performed their ablutions was not delicate, but it was thorough. And when the dust had been removed their faces shone with the dusky health-bloom that told of their hard, healthy method of living. Men of various ages were there grizzled riders who saw the world through the introspective eye of experience; young men with their en thusiasms, their impulses; middle-aged men who had seen much of life enough to be able to face the future with unshaken com placence; but all bronzed, clear-eyed, self- reliant, unafraid. When Ferguson and Rope entered the bunkhouse many of the men were already seated. Ferguson and Rope took places at one end of the long table and began eating. No niceties of the conventions were observed here; the men ate each according to his whim and were immune from criticism, 93 THE MEASURE OF A MAN Table etiquette was a thing that would have spoiled their joy of eating. Theirs was a primitive country; their occupation primi tive ; their manner of living no less so. They concerned themselves very little with the customs of a world of which they heard very little. Nor did they bolt their food silently- as has been recorded of them by men who knew them little. If they did eat rapidly it was because the ravening hunger of a healthy stomach demanded instant attention. And they did not overeat. Epicurus would have marveled at the simplicity of their food. Conversation was mingled with every mouthful. At one end of the table sat an empty plate, with no man on the bench before it. This was the place reserved for Leviatt, the range boss. Next to this place on the right was seated a goodlooking young puncher, whose age might have been estimated at twenty-three. "Skinny" they called him be cause of his exceeding slenderness. At the moment Ferguson settled into his seat the 93 THE TWO-GUN MAN young man was filling the room with rapid talk. This talk had been inconsequential and concerned only those small details about which we bother during our leisure. But now his talk veered and he was suddenly telling something that gave promise of con- secutiveness and universal interest. Other voices died away as his arose. "Leviatt ain t the only one," he was say ing. "She ain t made no exception with any of the outfit. To my knowin there s been Lon Dexter, Soapy, Clem Miller, Lazy, Wrinkles an myself," he admitted, reddening, "been notified that we was mavericks an needed our ears marked. An now comes Leviatt a-f annin right on to get his n. An I reckon he ll get it." "You ain t tellin what she said when she give you your n," said a voice. There was a laugh, through which the youth emerged smiling broadly. "No," he said, "I ain t tellin . But she told Soapy here that she was lookin for local color. Wanted to know if he was it. Since then Soapy s been using a right smart 94 THE MEASURE OF A MAN lot of soap, tryin to rub some color into his face." Color was in Soapy s face now. He sat directly opposite the slender youth and his cheeks were crimson. "I reckon if you d keep to the truth " he began. But Skinny has passed on to the next. "An there s Dexter. Lon s been awful quiet since she told him he had a picturesque name. Said it d do for to put into a book which she s goin to write, but when it come to choosin a husband she d prefer to tie up to a commoner name. An so Lon didn t graze on that range no more." "This country s goin plum to " sneered Dexter. But a laugh silenced him. And the youth continued. "It might have been fixed up for Lazy," he went on, "only when she found out his name was Lazy, she wanted to know right off if he could support a wife providin he got one. He said he reckoned he could, an she told him he could experiment on some other woman. An now Lazy 11 have to look 95 THE TWO-GUN MAN around quite a spell before he ll get another chancst. I d call that bein in mighty poor luck." Lazy was giving his undivided attention to his plate. "An* she come right out an told Wrinkles he was too old; that when she was thinkin of gettin wedded to some old monolith she d send word to Egypt, where they keep em in stock. Beats me where she gets all them words." "Told me she d studied her dictionary," said a man who sat near Ferguson. The young man grinned. "Well, I swear if I didn t come near forgettin Clem Miller!" he said. "If you hadn t spoke up then, I reckon you wouldn t have been in on this deal. An so she told you she d studied her dictionary! Now, I d call that news. Some one d been tellin me that she d asked you the meanin of the word evaporate. An when you couldn t tell her she told you to do it. Said that when you got home you might look up a dictionary an then you d know what she meant. 96 THE MEASURE OF A MAN "An now Leviatt s hangin around over there," continued the youth. "He s claim- in to be goin to see Ben Radford, but I reckon he s got the same kind of sickness as the rest of us." "An you ain t sayin a word about what she said to you," observed Miller. "She must have treated you awful gentle, seein you won t tell." "Well," returned the young man, "I ain t layin it all out to you. But I ll tell you this much ; she said she was goin to make me one of the characters in that book she s writin ." "Well, now," said Miller, "that s sure lettin you down easy. Did she say what the character was goin to be?" "I reckon she did." "An now you re goin to tell us boys?" "An now I m goin to tell you boys," re turned Skinny. "But I reckon there s a drove of them characters here. You ll find them with every outfit, an you ll know them chiefly by their bray an their long, hairy ears." The young man now smiled into his plate, 97 THE TWO-GUN MAN while a chorus of laughter rose around him. In making himself appear as ridiculous a figure as the others, the young man had suc cessfully extracted all the sting from his story and gained the applause of even those at whom he had struck. But now a sound was heard outside, and Leviatt came into the room. He nodded shortly and took his place at the end of the table. A certain reserve came into the at mosphere of the room. No further reference was made to the subject that had aroused laughter, but several of the men snickered into their plates over the recollection of Leviatt s connection with the incident. As the meal continued Leviatt s gaze wandered over the table, resting finally upon Ferguson. The range boss s face darkened. Ferguson had seen Leviatt enter ; several times during the course of the meal he felt Leviatt looking at him. Once, toward the end, his glance met the range boss s fairly. Leviatt s eyes glittered evilly; Ferguson s lips curled with a slight contempt. And yet these men had met but twice be- 98 THE MEASURE OF A MAN fore. A man meets another in North America in the Antipodes. He looks upon him, meets his eye, and instantly has won a friend or made an enemy. Perhaps this will always be true of men. Certainly it was true of Ferguson and the range boss. What force was at work in Leviatt when in Dry Bottom he had insulted Ferguson? Whatever the force, it had told him that the steady-eyed, deliberate gun-man was hence forth to be an enemy. Enmity, hatred, evil intent, shone out of his eyes as they met Ferguson s. Beyond the slight curl of the lips the latter gave no indication of feeling. And after the exchange of glances he resumed eating, apparently unaware of Leviatt s ex istence. Later, the men straggled from the bunk- house, seeking the outdoors to smoke and talk. Upon the bench just outside the door several of the men sat ; others stood at a little distance, or lounged in the doorway. With Rope, Ferguson had come out and was standing near the door, talking. 99 THE TWO-GUN MAN The talk was light, turning to trivial in cidents of the day s work things that are the monotony of the cowboy life. Presently Leviatt came out and joined the group. He stood near Ferguson, mingling his voice with the others. For a little time the talk flowed easily and much laughter rose. Then suddenly above the good natured babble came a harsh word. Instant ly the other voices ceased, and the men of the group centered their glances upon the range boss, for the harsh word had come from him. He had been talking to a man named Tucson and it was to the latter that he had now spoken. "There s a heap of rattlers in this country," he had said. Evidently the statement was irrelevant, for Tucson s glance at Leviatt s face was uncomprehending. But Leviatt did not wait for an answer. "A man might easily claim to have been bit by one of them," he continued, his voice falling coldly. The men of the group sat in a tense 100 THE MEASURE OF A MAN silence, trying to penetrate this mystery that had suddenly silenced their talk. Steady eyes searched out each face in an endeavor to discover the man at whom the range boss was talking. They did not discover him. Ferguson stood near Leviatt, an arm s length distant, his hands on his hips. Per haps his eyes were more alert than those of the other men, his lips in a straighter line. But apparently he knew no more of this mystery than any of the others. And now Leviatt s voice rose again, in solent, carrying an unmistakable personal application. "Stafford hires a stray-man," he said, sneering. "This man claims to have been bit by a rattler an lays up over night in Ben Radford s cabin makin love to Mary Rad- ford." Ferguson turned his head slightly, sur veying the range boss with a cold, alert eye. "A little while ago," he said evenly, "I heard a man inside tellin about some of the boys learnin their lessons from a girl over on Bear Flat. I reckon, Leviatt, that you ve 101 THE TWO-GUN MAN been over there to learn your n. An now, you ve got to let these boys know 1" Just a rustle it was a snake-like motion. And then Ferguson s gun was out; its cold muzzle pressed deep into the pit of Leviatt s/ stomach, and Ferguson s left hand was pin" ning Leviatt s right to his side, the range boss s hand still wrapped around the butt; of his half -drawn weapon. Then came Fer guson s voice again, dry, filled with a quie?/ earnestness : "I ain t goin to hurt you you re stil/) tenderfoot with a gun. I just wanted to show these boys that you re a false alarm* I reckon they know that now." Leviatt sneered. There was a movement behind Ferguson. Tucson s gun was halif way out of its holster. And then arose Rope s voice as his weapon came out amft menaced Tucson. "Three in this game would make it odd,, Tucson," he said quietly. "If there s goiri* to be any shootin , let s have an even break f anyway." Tucson s hand fell away from his holstetr; 102 THE MEASURE OF *A MAN he stepped back toward the door, away from the range boss and Ferguson. Leviatt s face had crimsoned. "Mebbe I was runnin a little bit wild " he began. "That s comin down right handsome," said Ferguson. He sheathed his gun and deliberately turned his back on Leviatt. The latter stood silent for a moment, his face gradually pal ing. Then he turned to where Tucson had taken himself and with his friend entered the bunkhouse. In an instant the old talk arose and the laughter, but many furtive glances swept Ferguson as he stood, talking quietly with Rope. The following morning Stafford came upon Rope while the latter was throwing the saddle on his pony down at the corral gate. "I heard something about some trouble between Dave Leviatt an the new stray- man," said Stafford. "I reckon it wasn t serious?" Rope turned a grave eye upon the mana ger. "Shucks," he returned, "I reckon it wasn t nothin serious. Only," he continued 103 THE TWO-GUN MAN with twitching lips, "Dave was takin the stray-man s measure." Stafford smiled grimly. "How did the stray-man measure up?" he inquired, a smile working at the corners of his mouth. "I reckon he wasn t none shy?" Rope grinned, admiration glinting his eyes. "He s sure man s size," he returned, giving his attention to the saddle cinch. "104 CHAPTER VIII THE FINDING OF THE ORPHAN DURING the few first days of his con nection with the Two Diamond Fer guson had reached the conclusion that he would do well to take plenty of time to inquire into the situation before attempt ing any move. He had now been at the TWO Diamond for two weeks and he had not even seen Radf ord. Nor had he spoken half a dozen words with Stafford. The manager had observed certain signs that had con vinced him that speech with the stray-man was unnecessary and futile. If he purposed to do anything he would do it in his own time and in his own way. Stafford mentally de cided that the stray-man was "set in his ways." 105 THE TWO-GUN MAN The wagon outfit had departed, this time down the river. Rope Jones had gone with the wagon, and therefore Ferguson was deprived of the companionship of a man who had unexpectedly taken a stand with him in his clash with Leviatt and for whom he had conceived a great liking. With the wagon had gone Leviatt also. During the week that had elapsed between the clash at the bunkhouse and the departure of the wagon the range boss had given no sign that he knew of the existence of Fer guson. Nor had he intimated by word or sign that he meditated revenge upon Rope because of the latter s championship of the stray-man. If he had any such intention he concealed it with consummate skill. He treated Rope with a politeness that drew smiles to the faces of the men. But Fer guson saw in this politeness a subtleness of purpose that gave him additional light on the range boss s character. A man who held his vengeance at his finger tips would have taken pains to show Rope that he might ex pect no mercy. Had Leviatt revealed an 106 THE FINDING OF THE ORPHAN open antagonism to Rope, the latter might have known what to expect when at last the two men would reach the open range and the puncher be under the direct domination of the man he had offended. There were many ways in which a petty vengeance might be gratified. It was with in the range boss s power to make life nearly unbearable for the puncher. If he did this it would of course be an unworthy vengeance, and Ferguson had little doubt that any vengeance meditated by Leviatt would not be petty. Ferguson went his own way, deeply thoughtful. He was taking his time. Cer tain things were puzzling him. Where did Leviatt stand in this rustling business ? That was part of the mystery. Stafford had told him that he had Leviatt s word that Rad- ford was the thief who had been stealing the Two Diamond cattle. Stafford had said also that it had been Leviatt who had sug gested employing a gunfighter had even gone to Dry Bottom with the manager for the purpose of finding one. And now that 107 THE TWO-GUN MAN one had been employed Leviatt had become suddenly antagonistic to him. And Leviatt was in the habit of visiting the Radford cabin. Of course he might be doing this for the purpose of spying upon Ben Radford, but if that were the case why had he shown so venomous when he had seen Ferguson sitting on the porch on the even ing of the day after the latter had been bitten by the rattler? Mary Radford had told him that Leviatt was her brother s friend. If he was a friend of the brother why had he suggested that Stafford employ a gunfighter to shoot him? Here was more mystery. On a day soon after the departure of the wagon outfit he rode away through the af ternoon sunshine. Not long did his thoughts dwell upon the mystery of the range boss and Ben Radford. He kept seeing a young woman kneeling in front of him, bathing and binding his foot. Scraps of a conversa tion that he had not forgotten revolved in mind and brought smiles to his lips. She didn t need to act so plum serious 108 THE FINDING OF THE ORPHAN when she told me that I didn t know that I had any right to set there an make pretty speeches to her. . . . She wouldn t need to ask me to stay at the cabin all night. I could have gone on to the Two Diamond. I reckon that snake bite wasn t so plum dangerous that I d have died if I d have rode a little while." As he came out of a little gully a few miles up the river and rode along the crest of a ridge that rose above endless miles of plains, his thoughts went back to that first night in the bunkhouse when the outfit had come in from the range. Satisfaction glinted in his eyes. "I reckon them boys didn t make good with her. An I expect that some day Leviatt will find he s been wastin his time." He frowned at thought of Leviatt and un consciously his spurs drove hard against the pony s flanks. The little animal sprang for ward, tossing his head spiritedly. Ferguson grinned and patted its flank with a remorse ful hand. "Well, now, Mustard," he said, "I wasn t 109 THE TWO-GUN MAN reckonin on takin my spite out on you. You don t expect I thought you was Leviatt." And he patted the flank again. He rode down the long slope of the rise and struck the level, traveling at a slow lope through a shallow washout. The ground was broken and rocky here and the snake- like cactus caught at his stirrup leathers. A rattler warned from the shadow of some sage-brush and, remembering his previous experience, he paused long enough to shoot its head off. "There," he said, surveying the shattered snake, "I reckon you ain t to blame for me bein bit by your uncle or cousin, or some- thin , but I ain t never goin to be particular when I see one of your family swingin their head that suggestive." He rode on again, reloading his pistol. For a little time he traveled at a brisk pace and then he halted to breathe Mustard. Throwing one leg over the pommel, he turned half way around in the saddle and swept the plains with a casual glance. He sat erect instantly, focusing his gaze 110 THE FINDING OF THE ORPHAN upon a speck that loomed through a dust cloud some miles distant. For a time he watched the speck, his eyes narrowing. Fin ally he made out the speck to be a man on a pony. "He s a-fannin it some," he observed, shading his eyes with his hands; "hittin up the breeze for fair." He meditated long, a critical smile reaching his lips. "It s right warm to-day. Not just the kind of an atmosphere that a man ought to be runnin his horse reckless in." He medi tated again. "How far would you say he s off, Mus tard ? Ten miles, I reckon you d say if you was a knowin horse." The horseman had reached a slight ridge and for a moment he appeared on the crest of it, racing his pony toward the river. Then he suddenly disappeared. Ferguson smiled coldly. Again his gaze swept the plains and the ridges about him. "I don t see nothin that d make a man ride like that in this heat," he said. "Where would he have come from?" He stared ob- 111 THE TWO-GUN MAN liquely off at a deep gully almost hidden by ,. an adjoining ridge. "It s been pretty near an hour since I shot that snake. I didn t see no man about that time. If he was around here he must have heard my gun an sloped." He smiled and urged his pony about. "I reckon we ll go look around that gully a little, Mustard," he said. Half an hour later he rode down into the gully. After going some little distance he came across a dead cow, lying close to an overhanging rock rim. A bullet hole in the cow s forehead told eloquently of the man ner of her death. Ferguson dismounted and laid a hand on her side. The body was still warm. A four-months calf was nudging the mother with an inquisitive muzzle. Ferguson took a sharp glance at its ears and then drove it off to get a look at the brand. There was none. "Sleeper," he said quietly. "With the Two Diamond ear-mark. Most range bosses make a mistake in not brandin their calves. Seems as if they re trustin to luck that US THE FINDING OF THE ORPHAN rustlers won t work on them. I must have scared this one off." He swung into the saddle, a queer light in his eyes. "Mustard, old boy, we re goin to Bear Flat. Mebbe Radford s hangin around there now. An mebbe he ain t. But we re goin to see." But he halted a moment to bend a pitying glance at the calf. "Poor little dogie," he said; "poor little orphan. Losin your mother just like a human bein . I call that mean luck." Then he was off, Mustard swinging in a steady lope down the gully and up toward the ridge that led to the river trail. 113 CHAPTER IX iWOULD YOU BE A "CHARACTER"? THE sun was still a shimmering white blur in the great arc of sky when Ferguson rode around the corner of the cabin in Bear Flat, halted his pony, and sat quietly in the saddle before the door. His rapid eye had already swept the horse corral, the sheds, and the stable. If the horseman that he had seen riding along the ridge had been Radf ord he would not arrive for quite a little while. Meantime, he would learn from Miss Radf ord what direction the young man had taken on leaving the cabin. Ferguson was beginning to take an in terest in this game. At the outset he had come prepared co carry out his contract. In his code of ethics it was not a crime to shoot 114 A "CHARACTER a rustler. Experience had taught him that justice was to be secured only through drastic action. In the criminal category of the West the rustler took a place beside the horse thief and the man who shot from be hind. But before taking any action Ferguson must be convinced of the guilt of the man he was hunting, and nothing had yet oc curred that would lead him to suspect Rad- ford. Pie did not speculate on what course he would take should circumstances prove Radford to be the thief. Would the fact that he was Mary Radford s brother affect his decision? He preferred to answer that question when the time came if it ever came. One thing was certain; he was not shooting anyone unless the provocation was great. His voice was purposely loud when he called "Whoa, Mustard!" to his pony, but his eyes were not purposely bright and ex pectant as they tried to penetrate the semi- darkness of the interior of the cabin for a glimpse of Miss Radford. 115 THE TWO-GUN MAN He heard a movement presently, and she was at the door looking at him, her hands folded in her apron, her eyes wide with un mistakable pleasure. "Why, I never expected to see you again!" she exclaimed. She came out and stood near the edge of the porch, making a determined attempt to subdue the flutter of excitement that was re vealed in a pair of very bright eyes and a tinge of deep color in her cheeks. "Then I reckon you thought I had died, or stampeded out of this country?" he an swered, grinning. "I told you I d be comin back here." But the first surprise was over, and she very properly retired to the shelter of a de murely polite reserve. "So you did!" she made reply. "You told me you were comin over to see my brother. But he is not here now." Had he been less wise he would have re minded her that it had been she who had told him that he might come to see her brother. But to reply thus would have dis- 116 A "CHARACTER comfited her and perhaps have brought a sharp reply. He had no doubt that some of the other Two Diamond men had made similar mistakes, but not he. He smiled broadly. "Mebbe I did," he said; "sometimes I m mighty careless in handlin the truth. Mebbe I thought then that I d come over to see your brother. But we have different thoughts at different times. You say your brother ain t here now?" "He left early this morning to go down the river," she informed him. "He said he would be back before sun-down." His eyes narrowed perceptibly. "Down" the river meant that Radford s trail led in the general direction of the spot where he had seen the fleeing horseman and the dead Two Diamond cow with her orphaned calf. Yet this proved nothing. Radford might easily have been miles away when the deed had been done. For the present there was nothing he could do, except to wait until Radford returned, to form whatever conclu sions he might from the young man s ap pearance when he should find a Two Dia- 117 THE TWO-GUN MAN mond man at the cabin. But anxiety to see the brother was not the only reason that would keep him waiting. He removed his hat and sat regarding it with a speculative eye. Miss Radford smiled knowingly. "I expect I have been scarcely polite," she said. "Won t you get off your horse?" "Why, yes," he responded, obeying promptly; "I expect Mustard s been doin a lot of wonderin why I didn t get off before." If he had meant to imply that her invita tion had been tardy he had hit the mark fairly, for Miss Radford nibbled her lips with suppressed mirth. The underplay of meaning was not the only subtleness of the speech, for the tone in which it had been uttered was rich in interrogation, as though its author, while realizing the pony s dim ness of perception, half believed the animal had noticed Miss Radford s lapse of hospi tality. "I m thinkin you are laughin at me again, ma am," he said as he came to the 118 A "CHARACTER edge of the porch and stood looking up at her, grinning. "Do you think I am laughing?" she ques tioned, again biting her lips to keep them from twitching. "No-o. I wouldn t say that you was laughin with your lips laughin regular. But there s a heap of it inside of you tryin to get out." "Don t you ever laugh inwardly?" she questioned. He laughed frankly. "I expect there s times when I do." "But you haven t lately?" "Well, no, I reckon not." . "Not even when you thought your horse might have noticed that I had neglected to invite you off ?" "Did I think that?" he questioned. "Of course you did." "Well, now," he drawled. "An so you took that much interest in what I was think- in ! I reckon people who write must know a lot." Her face expressed absolute surprise. 119 THE TWO-GUN MAN "Why, who told you that I wrote?" She questioned. "Nobody told me, ma am. I just heard it. I heard a man tell another man that you had threatened to make him a character in a book you was writinV Her face was suddenly convulsed. "I imagine I know whom you mean," she said. "A young cowboy from the Two Diamond used to annoy me quite a little, until one day I discouraged him." His smile grew broad at this answer. But he grew serious instantly. "I don t think there is much to write about in this country, ma am," he said. "You don t? Why, I believe you are try ing to discourage me!" "I reckon you won t listen to me, ma am, if you want to write. I ve heard that any one who writes is a special kind of a person an they just can t help writin any more n I can help comin over here to see your brother. You see, they like it a heap." They both laughed, she because of the clever way in which he had turned the con- 120 A "CHARACTER" versation to his advantage ; he through sheer delight. But she did purpose to allow him to dwell on the point he had raised, so she adroitly took up the thread where he had broken off to apply his similitude. "Some of that is true," she returned, giv ing him a look on her own account; "espe cially about a writer loving his work. But I don t think one needs to be a special kind of person. One must be merely a keen ob server." He shook his head doubtfully. "I see everything that goes on around me," he re turned. "Most of the time I can tell pretty near what sort a man is by lookin at his face and watching the way he moves. But I reckon I d never make a writer. Times when I look at this country at a nice sun set, for instance, or think what a big place this country is I feel like sayin somethin about it ; somethin inside of me seems kind of breathless-like kind of scarin me. But I couldn t write about it." She had felt it, too, and more than once had sat down with her pencil to transcribe THE TWO-GUN MAN her thoughts. She thought that it was not ex actly fear, but an overpowering realization of her own atomity ; a sort of cringing of the soul away from the utter vastness of the world; a growing consciousness of the un limited bigness of things; an insight of the infinite power of God the yearning of the soul for understanding of the mysteries of life and existence. She could sympathize with him, for she knew exactly how he had felt. She turned and looked toward the distant mountains, behind which the sun was just then swim ming a great ball of shimmering gold, which threw off an effulgent expanse of yellow light that was slowly turning into saffron and violet as it met the shadows be low the hills. "Whoever saw such colors?" she asked suddenly, her face transfixed with sheer de light. "It s cert nly pretty, ma am." She clapped her hands. "It is magnifi cent!" she declared enthusiastically. She came closer to him and stretched an arm to- A "CHARACTER" ward the mountains. "Look at that saffron shade which is just now blending with the streak of pearl striking the cleft between those hills! See the violet tinge that has come into that sea of orange, and the purple haze touching the snow-caps of the moun tains. And now the flaming red, the deep yellow, the slate blue; and now that gauzy veil of lilac, rose, and amethyst, fading and dulling as the darker shadows rise from the valleys!" Her flashing eyes sought Ferguson s. Twilight had suddenly come. "It is the most beautiful country in the world!" she said positively. He was regarding her with gravely humorous eyes. "It cert nly is pretty, ma am,"Jie returned. "But you can t make a whole book out of one sunset." Her eyes flashed. "No," she returned. "Nor can I make a whole book out of only one character. But I am going to try and draw a word picture of the West by writing of the things that I see. And I am going to try and have some real characters in it. I 123 THE TWO-GUN MAN shall try to have them talk and act natural- iy." She smiled suddenly and looked at him with a significant expression. "And the hero will not be an Easterner to swagger through the pages of the book, scaring people into submission through the force of his compelling personality. He will be a cowboy who will do things after the manner of the country a real, unaffected care-free puncher !" "Have you got your eye on such a man?" he asked, assuring himself that he knew of no man who would fill the requirements she had named. "I don t mind telling you that I have," she returned, looking straight at him. It suddenly burst upon him. His face crimsoned. He felt like bolting. But he managed to grin, though she could see that the grin was forced. "It s gettin late, ma am," he said, as he turned toward his pony. "I reckon I ll be gettin back to the Two Diamond." She laughed mockingly as he settled into A "CHARACTER the saddle. There was a clatter of hoofs from around the corner of the cabin. "Wait!" she commanded. "Ben is com- ing!" But there was a rush of wind that ruffled her apron, a clatter, and she could hear Mus tard s hoofs pounding over the matted mes- quite that carpeted the clearing. Ferguson had fled. 195 CHAPTER X DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ORPHAN DURING the night Ferguson had dreamed dreams. A girl with fluffy brown hair and mocking eyes had been the center of many mental pictures that had haunted him. He had seen her seated before him, rapidly plying a pencil. Once he imagined he had peered over her shoulder. He had seen a sketch of a puncher, upon which she appeared to be working, repre senting a man who looked very like himself. He could remember that he had been much surprised. Did writers draw the pictures that appeared in their books? This puncher was sitting in a chair; one foot was bandaged. As he watched over the girl s shoulder he saw the deft pencil 126 DISAPPEARANCE OF ORPHAN forming the outlines of another figure a girl. As this sketch developed he saw that it was to represent Miss Radford herself. It was a clever pencil that the girl wielded, for the scene was strikingly real. He even caught subtle glances from her eyes. But as he looked the scene changed and the girl stood at the edge of the porch, her eyes mocking him. And then to his surprise she spoke. "I am going to put you into a book," she said. Then he knew why she had tolerated him. He had grown hot and embarrassed. "You ain t goin to put me in any book, ma am," he had said. "You ain t givin me a square deal. I wouldn t love no girl that would put me into a book." He had seen a sudden scorn in her eyes. "Love!" she said, her lips curling. "Do you really believe that I would allow a puncher to make love to me?" And then the scene had changed again, and he was shooting the head off a rattler. "I don t want you to love me!" he had de clared to it. And then while the snake 127 THE TWO-GUN MAN writhed he saw another head growing upon it, and a face. It was the face of Leviatt; and there was mockery in this face also. While he looked it spoke. "You ll nurse him so s he won t die?" it had said. When he awakened his blood was surging with a riotous anger. The dream was bothering him now, as he rode away from the ranchhouse toward the gully where he had found the dead Two Diamond cow. He had not reported the finding of the dead cow, intending to return the next morning to look the ground over and to fetch the "dogie" back to the home ranch. It would be time enough then to make a report of the occurrence to Stafford. It was mid-morning when he finally reached the gully and rode down into it. He found the dead cow still there. He dis mounted to drive away some crows that had gathered around the body. Then he noticed that the calf had disappeared. It had strayed, perhaps. A calf could not be depended upon to remain very long beside 128 DISAPPEARANCE OF ORPHAN its dead mother, though he had known cases where they had. But if it had strayed it could not be very far away. He remounted his pony and loped down the gully, reaching the ridge presently and riding along this, searching the surrounding country with keen glances. He could see no signs of the calf. He came to a shelf-rock presently, beside which grew a tangled gnarl of scrub-oak brush. Something lay in the soft sand and he dismounted quickly and picked up a leather tobacco pouch. He examined this carefully. There were no marks on it to tell who might be the owner. "A man who loses his tobacco in this country is mighty careless," he observed, smiling; "or in pretty much of a hurry." He went close to the thicket, looking down at it, searching the sand with interest. Pres ently he made out the impression of a foot in a soft spot and, looking further, saw two furrows that might have been made by a man kneeling. He knelt in the furrows him self and with one hand parted the brush. He smiled grimly as, peering into the gully, he 129 THE TWO-GUN MAN saw the dead Two Diamond cow on the op posite side. He stepped abruptly away from the thicket and looked about him. A few yards back there was a deep depression in the ridge, fringed with a growth of nondescript weed. He approached this and peered into it. Quite recently a horse had been there. He could plainly see the hoof-prints where the animal had pawed impatiently. He re turned to the thicket, convinced. "Some one was here yesterday when I was down there lookin at that cow," he decided. "They was watchin me. That man I seen ridin that other ridge was with the one who was here. Now why didn t this man slope too?" He stood erect, looking about him. Then he smiled. "Why, it s awful plain," he said. "The man who was on this ridge was watchin . He heard my gun go off, when I shot that snake. I reckon he figgered that if he tried to ride away on this ridge whoever d done the shootin would see him. An so he didn t go. 130 DISAPPEARANCE OF ORPHAN He stayed right here an watched me when I rode up." He smiled. "There ain t no use lookin for that dogie. The man that stayed here has run him off." There was nothing left for Ferguson to do. He mounted and rode slowly along the ridge, examining the tobacco pouch. And then suddenly he discovered something that brought an interested light to his eyes. Be neath the greasy dirt on the leather he could make out the faint outlines of two letters. Time had almost obliterated these, but by moistening his fingers and rubbing the dirt from the leather he was able to trace them. They had been burned in, probably branded with a miniature iron. "D. L," he spelled. He rode on again, his lips straightening into serious lines. He mentally catalogued the names he had heard since coming to the Two Diamond. None answered for the initials "D. L." It was evident that the pouch could belong to no one but Dave Leviatt. In that case what had Leviatt been doing on the ridge ? Why, 131 THE TWO-GUN MAN he had been watching the rustler, of course. In that case the man must be known to him. But what had become of the dogie? What would have been Leviatt s duty, after the de parture of the rustlers ? Obviously to drive the calf to the herd and report the occurrence to the manager. Leviatt may have driven the calf to the herd, but assuredly he had not reported the occurrence to the manager, for he had not been in to the ranchhouse. Why not? Ferguson pondered long over this, while his pony traveled the river trail toward the ranchhouse. Finally he smiled. Of course, if the man on the ridge had been Leviatt, he must have been there still when Ferguson came up, or he would not have been there to drive the Two Diamond calf to the herd after Ferguson had departed. In that case he must have seen Ferguson, and must be waiting for the latter to make the report to the manager. But what motive would he have in this? Here was more mystery. Ferguson might have gone on indefinitely arranging 132 DISAPPEARANCE OF ORPHAN motives, but none of them would have brought him near the truth. He could, however, be sure of three things. Leviatt had seen the rustler and must know him ; he had seen Ferguson, and knew that he knew that a rustler had been in the gully before him; and for some myste rious reason he had not reported to the man ager. But Ferguson had one advantage that pleased him, even drew a grim smile to his lips as he rode on his way. Leviatt may have seen him near the dead Two Diamond cow, but he certainly was not aware that Ferguson knew he himself had been there during the time that the rustler had been at work. Practically, of course, this knowledge would avail Ferguson little. Yet it was a good thing to know, for Leviatt must have some reason for secrecy, and if anything de veloped later Ferguson would know exactly where the range boss stood in the matter. Determined to investigate as far as pos sible, he rode down the river for a few miles, finally reaching a broad plain where the 133 THE TWO-GUN MAN cattle were feeding. Some cowboys were scattered over this plain, and before riding very far Ferguson came upon Rope. The latter spurred close to him, grinning. "I m right glad to see you," said the puncher. "You ve been keepin yourself pretty scarce. Scared of another run-in with Leviatt?" "Plum scared," returned Ferguson. "I reckon that man ll make me nervous give him time." "Yu don t say?" grinned Rope. "I wasn t noticin that you was worryin about him." "I m right flustered," returned Ferguson. "Where s he now?" "Gone down the crick with Tucson." Ferguson smoothed Mustard s mane. "Leviatt been with you right along?" "He went up the crick yesterday," re turned Rope, looking quickly at the stray- man. "Went alone, I reckon?" "With Tucson." Rope was trying to con ceal his interest in these questions. 134 DISAPPEARANCE OF ORPHAN But apparently Ferguson s interest was only casual. He turned a quizzical eye up on Rope. "You an Tucson gettin along?" he questioned. "Me an him s of the same mind about one thing," returned Rope. "Well, now." Ferguson s drawl was pregnant with humor. "You surprise me. An so you an him have agreed. I reckon you ain t willin to tell me what you ve agreed about?" "I m sure tellin ," grinned Rope. "Me an him s each dead certain that the other s a low down horse thief." The eyes of the two men met fairly. Both smiled. "Then I reckon you an Tucson are lovin one another about as well as me an Leviatt," observed Ferguson. "There ain t a turruble lot of difference," agreed Rope. "An so Tucson s likin you a heap," drawled Ferguson absently. He gravely contemplated the puncher. "I expect you was a long ways off yesterday when Leviatt 135 THE TWO-GUN MAN an Tucson come in from up the crick?" he asked. "Not a turruble ways off," returned Rope. "I happened to have this end an they passed right close to me. They clean forgot to speak." "Well, now," said Ferguson. "That was sure careless of them. But I reckon they was busy at somethin when they passed. In that case they wouldn t have time to speak. I ve heard tell that some folks can t do more n one thing at a time." Rope laughed. "They was puttin in a heap of their time tryin to make me believe they didn t see me," he returned. "Other wise they wasn t doin anything." "Shucks !" declared Ferguson heavily. "I reckon them men wouldn t go out of their way to drive a poor little dogie in off the range. They re that hard hearted." "Correct," agreed Rope. "You ain t missin them none there." Ferguson smiled, urging his pony about. "I m figgerin on gettin back to the Two Diamond," he said. He rode a few feet 136 DISAPPEARANCE OF ORPHAN and then halted, looking back over his shoulder. "You ain t givin Tucson no chancst to say you drawed first?" he warned. Rope laughed grimly. "If there s any shootin goin on," he replied, "Tucson ain t goin to say nothin after it s over." "Well, so-long," said Ferguson, urging his pony forward. He heard Rope s answer, and then rode on, deeply concerned over his discovery. Leviatt and Tucson had ridden up the river the day before. They had returned empty handed. And so another link had been added to the chain of mystery. Where was the dogie? 137 CHAPTER XI A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR A FEW months before her first meet ing with Ferguson, Mary Radford had come West with the avowed purpose of "absorbing enough local color for a Western novel." Friends in the East had encouraged her; an uncle (her only remain ing relative, beside her brother) had assisted her. So she had come. The uncle (under whose care she had been since the death of her mother, ten years be fore) had sent her to a medical college, de termined to make her a finished physician. But Destiny had stepped in. Quite by ac cident Miss Radford had discovered that she could write, and the uncle s hope that she might one day grace the medical profession 138 A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR had gone glimmering completely buried under a mass of experimental manuscript. He professed to have still a ray of hope until after several of the magazines had ac cepted Mary s work. Then hope died and was succeeded by silent acquiescence and patient resignation. Having a knowledge of human nature far beyond that possessed by the average person, the uncle had realized that if Mary s inclination led to literature it was worse than useless to attempt to interest her in any other profession. Therefore, when she had announced her intention of going West he had interposed no objection; on the contrary had urged her to the venture. What might have been his attitude had not Ben Radford been already in the West is problematical. Very seldom do we decide a thing until it confronts us. Mary Radford had been surprised at the West. From Ben s cabin in the flat she had made her first communion with this new world that she had worshipped at first sight. It was as though she had stepped out of an old world into one that was just experien- 139 THE TWO-GUN MAN cing the dawn of creation s first morning. At least so it had seemed to her on the morn ing she had first stepped outside her broth er s cabin to view her first sunrise. She had breathed the sweet, moisture- laden breezes that had seemed to almost steal over the flat where she had stood watching the shadows yield to the coming sun. The somber hills had become slowly outlined ; the snow caps of the distant mountain peaks glinted with the brilliant shafts that struck them and reflected into the dark recesses be low. Nature was king here and showed its power in a mysterious, though convincing manner. In the evening there would come a change. Through rifts in the mountains descended the sun, spreading an effulgent expanse of yellow light like burnished gold. In the shadows were reflected numerous colors, all quietly blended, making contrasts of perfect harmony. There were the sinuous buttes that bordered the opposite shore of the river solemn sentinels guarding the beauty and purity of this virgin land. Near her were 140 A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR sloping hills, dotted with thorny cactus and other prickly plants, and now rose a bald rock spire with its suggestion of grim lone- someness. In the southern and eastern distances were the plains, silent, vast, unend ing. It seemed she had come to dwell in a land deserted by some Cyclopean race. Its magnificent, unchanging beauty had en thralled her. She had not lacked company. She found that the Two Diamond punchers were eager to gain her friendship. Marvelous excuses were invented for their appearance at the cabin in the flat. She thought that Ben s friendship was valued above that of all other persons in the surrounding country. But she found the punchers gentlemen. Though their conversation was unique and their idioms picturesque, they compared favorably with the men she had known in the East. Did they lack the subtleties, they made up for this by their unfailing defer ence. And they were never rude ; their very bashfulness prevented that. Through them she came to know much of THE TWO-GUN MAN many things. They contrived to acquaint her with the secretive peculiarities of the prairie dog, and when she would listen with more than ordinary attention they would loose their wonderful imaginations in the hope of continuing the conversation. Then it was that the subject under discussion would receive exhaustive, and altogether un necessary, elucidation. The habits of the prairie-dog were not alone betrayed to the ears of the young lady. The sage-fowl s in herent weaknesses were paraded before her ; the hoot of the owl was imitated with ludicrous solemnity; other fowl were de scribed with wonderful attention to detail; and the inevitable rattlesnake was pointed out to her as a serpent whose chief occupa tion in life was that of posing in the shadow of the sage-brush as a target for the revolver of the cowpuncher. The quaintness of the cowboy speech, his incomparable bashfulness, amused her, while she was strangely affected by his earnest ness. She attended to the chickens and imme diately her visitors became interested in them A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR and fell to discussing them as though they had done nothing all their days but build hen-houses and runways. But she had them on botany. The flower beds were deep, un fathomable mysteries to them, and they stood afar while she cultivated the more diffi cult plants and encouraged the hardier to increased beauty. But she had not been content to view this land of mystery from her brother s cabin. The dignity of nature had cast its thrall upon her. She was impressed with the sublimity of the climate, the wonderful sunshine, the crystal light of the days and the quiet peace and beauty of the nights. The lure of the plains had taken her upon long rides, and the cottonwood, filling a goodly portion of the flat, was the scene of many of her explora tions. The pony with which her brother had pro vided her was Ben Radford declared a shining example of sterling horse-honesty. She did not know that Ben knew horses quite as well as he knew men or she would not have allowed him to see the skeptical glance 143 THE TWO-GUN MAN she had thrown over the drowsy-eyed beast that he saddled for her. But she was over joyed at finding the pony all that her brother had said of it. The little animal was tireless, and often, after a trip over the plains, or to Dry Bottom to mail a letter, she would re turn by a roundabout trail. Meanwhile the novel still remained un written. Perhaps she had not yet "ab sorbed" the "local color"; perhaps inspira tion was tardy. At all events she had not written a word. But she was beginning to realize the possibilities; deep in her soul something was moving that would presently flow from her pen. It would not be commonplace that she knew. Real people would move among the pages of her book ; real deeds would be done. And as the days passed she decided. She would write herself into her book; there would be the first real character. The story would revolve about her and another char acter a male one upon whom she had not decided until the appearance of Ferguson. After he had come she was no longer un- 144 r A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR decided she would make him the hero of her story. The villain she had already met in Leviatt. Something about this man was re- pellant. She already had a description of him in the note book that she always car ried. Had Leviatt read the things she had written of him he would have discontinued his visits to the cabin. Several of the Two Diamond punchers, also, were noted as being possible secondary characters. She had found them very amus ing. But the hero would be the one char acter to whom she would devote the concen trated effort of her mind. She would make him live in the pages; a real, forceful mag netic human being that the reader would in stantly admire. She would bare his soul to the reader; she would reveal his mental processes not involved, but leading straight and true to But would she? Had she not so far dis covered a certain craftiness in the character of the Two Diamond stray-man that would indicate subtlety of thought? 145 THE TWO-GUN MAN This knowledge had been growing grad ually upon her since their second meeting, and it had become an obstacle that prom ised difficulties. Of course she could make Ferguson talk and act as she pleased in the book. But if she wanted a real character she would have to portray him as he was. To do this would require study. Serious study of any character would inspire faith ful delineation. She gave much thought to him now, keep ing this purpose in view. She questioned Ben concerning him, but was unable to gain satisfying information. He had been hired by Stafford, her brother told her, holding the position of stray-man. "I ve seen him once, down the other side of the cottonwood," the young man had said. "He ain t saying much to anyone. Seems to be a quiet sort and deep. Pretty good sort though." She was pleased over Ben s brief estimate of the stray-man. It vindicated her judg ment. Besides, it showed that her brother was not averse to friendship with him. 146 A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR Leviatt she saw with her brother often, and occasionally he came to the cabin. His attitude toward her was one of frank ad miration, but he had received no encourage ment. How could he know that he was go ing to be the villain in her book soon to be written? Shall we take a peep into that mysterious note book? Yes, for later we shall see much of it. "Dave Leviatt," she had written in one place. "Age thirty-five. Tall, slender; walks with a slight stoop. One rather gets the impression that the stoop is a reflection of the man s nature, which seems vindictive and suggests a low cunning. His eyes are small, deep set, and glitter when he talks. But they are steady, and cold almost merci less. One s thoughts go instantly to the tiger. I shall try to create that impression in the reader s mind." In another place she had jotted this down: "I shouldn t want anyone killed in my book, but if I find this to be necessary Leviatt must do the murder. But I think it would 147 THE TWO-GUN MAN be better to have him employ some other person to do it for him ; that would give him just the character that would fit him best. I want to make him seem too cowardly no, not cowardly, because I don t think he is a coward; but too cunning to take chances of being caught." Evidently she had been questioning Ben, for in another place she had written: "Ferguson. I must remember this all cowboys do not carry two guns. Ben does, because he says he is ambidextrous, shooting equally well with either hand. But he does not tie the bottoms of his holsters down, like Ferguson; he says some men do this, but usually they are men who are exceptionally rapid in getting their revolvers out and that tying down the bottoms of the holsters facili tates removing the weapons. They are ac counted to be dangerous men. "Ben says when a man is quick to shoot out here he is called a gun-man, and that if he carries two revolvers he is a two-gun man. Ben laughs at me when I speak of a re- yolver ; they are known merely as guns out 148 A TOUCH OF LOCAL COLOR here. I must remember this. Ben says that though he likes Ferguson quite well, he is rather suspicious of him. He seems to be unable to understand why Stafford should employ a two-gun man to look up stray cows." Below this appeared a brief reference to Ferguson. "He is not a bit conceited rather bashful, I should say. But embarrassment in him is attractive. No hero should be conceited. There is a wide difference between im pertinence and frankness. Ferguson seems to speak frankly, but with a subtle shade. I think this is a very agreeable trait for a hero in a novel." There followed more interesting scraps concerning I>eviatt, which would have caused the range boss many bad moments. And there were interesting bits of description jotted down when she became impressed with a particularly odd view of the country. But there were no more references to Fer guson. He being the hero of her novel * must be studied thoroughly. 149 CHAPTER XII THE STORY BEGINS MISS RADFORD tied her pony to the trunk of a slender fir-balsam and climbed to the summit of a small hill. There were some trees, quite a bit of grass, some shrubbery, on the hill and no snakes. She made sure of this before seat ing herself upon a little shelf of rock, near a tall cedar. Half a mile down the river she could see a corner of Ben s cabin, a section of the corral fence, and one of the small outbuild ings. Opposite the cabin, across the river, rose the buttes that met her eyes always when she came to the cabin door. This hill upon which she sat was one that she saw often, when in the evening, watching the 150 THE STORY BEGINS setting sun, she followed its golden rays with her eyes. Many times, as the sun had gone slowly down into a rift of the mountains, she had seen the crest of this hill shimmering in a saffron light; the only spot in the flat that rose above the somber, oncoming shadows of the dusk. From here, it seemed, began the rose veil that followed the broad saffron shaft that led straight to the mountains. Often, watch ing the beauty of the hill during the long sunset, she had felt a deep awe stirring her. Romance was here, and mystery; it was a spot favored by the Sun-Gods, who sur rounded it with a glorious halo, lingeringly, reluctantly withdrawing as the long shadows of the twilight crept over the face of the world. It was not her first visit to the hill. Many times she had come here, charmed with the beauty of the view, and during one of those visits she had decided that seated on the shelf rock on the summit of the hill she would write the first page of the book. It was for this purpose that she had now come. 151 THE TWO-GUN MAN After seating herself she opened a small handbag, producing therefrom many sheets of paper, a much-thumbed copy of Shake speare, and a pencil. She was tempted to begin with a description of the particular bit of country upon which she looked, for long ago she had decided upon Bear Flat for the locale of the story. But she sat long nibbling at the end of the pencil, delaying the begin ning for fear of being unable to do justice to it. She began at length, making several false starts and beginning anew. Finally came a paragraph that remained. Evidently this was satisfactory, for another paragraph fol lowed; and then another, and still another. Presently a complete page. Then she looked up with a long-drawn sigh of relief. The start had been made. She had drawn a word picture of the flat ; dwelling upon the solitude, the desolation, the vastness, the swimming sunlight, the ab sence of life and movement. But as she looked, critically comparing what she had written with the reality, there came a move- 152 THE STORY BEGINS merit a horseman had ridden into her pic ture. He had come down through a little gully that led into the flat and was loping his pony through the deep saccatone grass toward the cabin. It couldn t be Ben. Ben had told her that he intended riding some thirty miles down the river and he couldn t be returning al ready. She leaned forward, watching intent ly, the story forgotten. The rider kept steadily on for a quarter of an hour. Then he reached the clearing in which the cabin stood; she saw him ride through it and disappear. Five minutes later he reappeared, hesitated at the edge of the clearing and then urged his pony to ward the hill upon which she sat. As he rode out of the shadows of the trees within an eighth of a mile of her the sunlight shone fairly upon the pony. She would have known Mustard among many other ponies. She drew a sudden, deep breath and sat erect, tucking back some stray wisps of hair from her forehead. Did the rider see her? For a moment it seemed that the answer 153 THE TWO-GUN MAN would be negative, for he disappeared be hind some dense shrubbery on the plain be low and seemed to be on the point of passing the hill. But just at the edge of the shrub bery Mustard suddenly swerved and came directly toward her. Through the corners of her eyes she watched while Ferguson dis mounted, tied Mustard close to her own animal, and stood a moment quietly regard ing her. "You want to look at the country all by yourself?" he inquired. She pretended a start, looking down at him in apparent surprise. "Why," she prevaricated, "I thought there was no one within miles of me!" She saw his eyes flash in the sunlight. "Of course," he drawled, "there s such an awful darkness that no one could see a pony comin across the flat. You think you ll be able to find your way home?" She flushed guiltily and did not reply. She heard him clambering up over the loose stones, and presently he stood near her. She made a pretense of writing. THE STORY BEGINS "Did you stop at the cabin?" she asked without looking up. He regarded her with amused eyes, stand ing loosely, his arms folded, the fingers of his right hand pulling at his chin. "Did I stop?" he repeated. "I couldn t rightly say. Seems to me as though I did. You see, I didn t intend to, but I was ridin down that way an I thought I d stop in an have a talk with Ben." "Oh!" Sometimes even a monosyllable is pregnant with mockery. "But he wasn t there. Nobody was there. I wasn t reckonin on everybody runnin off." She turned and looked straight at him. "Why," she said, "I shouldn t think our run ning away would surprise you. You see, you set us an example in running away the other day." He knew instantly that she referred to his precipitate retreat on the night she had hinted that she intended putting him into her story. She shot another glance at him and saw his face redden with embarrass- 155 THE TWO-GUN MAN ment, but he showed no intention of running now. "I ve been thinkin of what you said," he returned. "You couldn t put me into no book. You don t know anything about me. .You don t know what I think. Then how could you do it?" "Of course," she returned, turning square ly around to him and speaking seriously, "the story will be fiction, and the plot will have no foundation in fact. But I shall be very careful to have my characters talk and act naturally. To do this I shall have to study the people whom I wish to char acterize." He was moved by an inward mirth. "You re still thinkin of puttin me into the book?" he questioned. She nodded, smiling. "Then," he said, very gravely, "y u hadn t ought to have told me. You didn t show so clever there. Ain t you afraid that I ll go to actin swelled? If I do that, you d not have the character you wanted." "I had thought of that, too," she returned 156 THE STORY BEGINS seriously. "If you were that kind of a man I shouldn t want you in the book. How do you know that I haven t told you for the purpose of discovering if you would be af fected in that manner?" He scratched his head, contemplating her gravely. "I reckon you re travelin too fast for me, ma am," he said. His expression of frank amusement was good to see. He stood before her, plainly ready to surrender. Absolutely boyish, he seemed to her a grown-up boy to be sure, but with a boy s enthusiasms, impulses, and generosity. Yet in his eyes was something that told of maturity, of conscious power, of perfect trust in his ability to give a good ac count of himself, even in this country where these qualities constituted the chief rule of life. A strange emotion stirred her, a sudden quickening of the pulse told her that some thing new had come into her life. She drew a deep, startled breath and felt her cheeks crimsoning. She swiftly turned her head and gazed out over the flat, leaving him 157 THE TWO-GUN MAN standing there, scarcely comprehending her embarrassment. "I reckon you ve been writin* some of that book, ma am," he said, seeing the papers ly ing on the rock beside her. "I don t see why you should want to write a Western story. Do folks in the East get interested in know- in what s goin on out here?" She suddenly thought of herself. Had she found it interesting? She looked swiftly at him, appraising him from a new view point, feeling a strange, new interest in him. "It would be strange if they didn t," she returned. "Why, it is the only part of the country in which there still remains a touch of romance. You must remember that this is a young country; that its history began at a comparatively late date. England can write of its feudal barons ; France of its an cient aristocracy ; but America can look back only to the Colonial period and the West." "Mebbe you re right," he said, not con vinced. "But I expect there ain t a heap of romance out here. Leastways, if there is it manages to keep itself pretty well hid." 158 THE STORY BEGINS She smiled, thinking of the romance that surrounded him of which, plainly, he was not conscious. To him, romance meant the lights, the crowds, the amusements, the glitter and tinsel of the cities of the East, word of which had come to him through va rious channels. To her these things were no longer novel, if they had ever been so and so for her romance must come from the new, the unusual, the unconventional. The West was all this, therefore romance dwelt here, "Of course it all seems commonplace to you," she returned; "perhaps even monot onous. For you have lived here long." He laughed. "I ve traveled a heap." he said. "I ve been in California, Dakota, Wyoming, Texas, an Arizona. An now I m here. Savin a man meets different people, this country is pretty much all the same." "You must have had a great deal of ex perience," she said. "And you are not very old." He gravely considered her. "I would say 159 THE TWO-GUN MAN that I am about the average age for this country. You see, folks don t live to get very old out here unless they re mighty careful." "And you haven t been careful?" He smiled gravely. "I expect you wouldn t call it careful. But I m still livin ." His words were singularly free from boast. "That means that you have escaped the dangers," she said. "I have heard that a man s safety in this country depends largely upon his ability to shoot quickly and ac curately. I suppose you are accounted a good shot?" The question was too direct. His eyes narrowed craftily. "I expect you re thinkin of that book now ma am," he said. "There s a heap of men c n shoot. You might say they re all good shots. I ve told you about the men who can t shoot good. They re either mighty careful, or they ain t here any more. It s always one or the other." "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, shuddering 160 THE STORY BEGINS slightly. "In that case I suppose the hero in my story will have to be a good shot." She laughed. "I shouldn t want him to get half way through the story and then be killed be cause he was clumsy in handling his weapon. I am beginning to believe that I shall have to make him a two-gun man. I understand they are supposed to be very good shots." "I ve seen them that wasn t," he returned gravely and shortly. "How did you prove that?" she asked suddenly. But he was not to be snared. "I didn t say I d proved it," he stated. "But I ve seen it proved." "How proved?" "Why," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement, "they ain t here any more, ma am." "Oh. Then it doesn t follow that because a man wears two guns he is more likely to survive than is the man who wears only one?" "I reckon not, ma am." "I see that you have the bottoms of your 161 THE TWO-GUN MAN holsters tied down," she said, looking at them. "Why have you done that?" "Well," he declared, drawling his words a little, "I ve always found that there ain t any use of takin chances on an accident. You mightn t live to tell about it. An" hav- in the bottoms of your holsters tied down keeps your guns from snaggin . I ve seen men whose guns got snagged when they wanted to use them. They wasn t so active after." "Then I shall have to make my hero a two-gun man," she said. "That is de cided. Now, the next thing to do is to give some attention to his character. I think he ought to be absolutely fearless and honest and incapable of committing a dishonorable deed. Don t you think so?" While they had talked he had come closer to her and stood beside the shelf rock, one foot resting on it. At her question he suddenly looked down at the foot, shifting it nervously, while a flush started from above the blue scarf at his throat and slowly; suffused his face. 162 THE STORY BEGINS "Don t you think so?" she repeated, her eyes meeting his for an instant. "Why, of course, ma am," he suddenly an swered, the words coming sharply, as though he had only at that instant realized the im port of the question. "Why," said she, aware of his embarrass ment, "don t you think there are such men?" "I expect there are, ma am," he returned; "but in this country there s a heap of argu ment could be made about what would be dishonorable. If your two-gun should hap pen to be a horse thief, or a rustler, I reckon we could get at it right off." "He shan t be either of those," she de clared stoutly. "I don t think he would stoop to such contemptible deeds. In the story he is employed by a ranch owner to kill a rustler whom the owner imagines has been stealing his cattle." His hands were suddenly behind him, the fingers clenched. His eyes searched her face with an alert, intense gaze. His embarrass ment was gone; his expression was satur nine, his eyes narrowed with a slight mock- 163 THE TWO-GUN MAN ery. And his voice came, cold, deliberate, even. "I reckon you ve got your gun-man true to life, ma am," he said. She laughed lightly, amused over the sudden change that she saw and felt in him. "Of course the gun-man doesn t really in tend to kill the rustler," she said. "I don t believe I shall have any one killed in the story. The gun-man is merely attracted by the sum of money promised him by the ranch owner, and when he accepts it is only because he is in dire need of work. Don t you think that could be possible?" "That could happen easy in this country, ma am," he returned. She laughed delightedly. "That vindi cates my judgment," she declared. He was regarding her with unwavering eyes. "Is that gun-man goin to be the hero in your story, ma am?" he asked quietly. "Why, of course." "An I m to be him?" She gave him a defiant glance, though she blushed immediately. 164 THE STORY BEGINS "Why do you ask?" she questioned in reply. "You need have no fear that I will compel my hero to do anything dishonor able." "I ain t fearin anything," he returned. "But I d like to know how you come to think of that. Do writers make them things up out of their own minds, or does someone tell them?" "Those things generally have their origin in the mind of the writer," she replied. "Meanin that you thought of that your self?" he persisted. "Of course." He lifted his foot from the rock and stood looking gravely at her. "In most of the books I have read there s always a villain. I reckon you re goin to have one?" "There will be a villain," she returned. His eyes flashed queerly. "Would you mind tellin me who you have picked out for your villain?" he continued. "I don t mind," she said. "It is Leviatt." He suddenly grinned broadly and held out his right hand to her. "Shake, ma am," he 165 THE TWO-GUN MAN said. "I reckon if I was writin a book Leviatt would be the villain." She rose from the rock and took his out stretched hand, her eyes drooping as they met his. He felt her hand tremble a little, and he looked at it, marveling. She glanced up, saw him looking at her hand, swiftly withdrew it, and turned from him, looking down into the flat at the base of the hill. She started, uttering the sharp command: "Look!" Perhaps a hundred yards distant, sitting on his pony in a lounging attitude, was a horseman. While they looked the horseman removed his broad brimmed hat, bowed mockingly, and urged his pony out into the flat. It was Leviatt. On the slight breeze a laugh floated back to them, short, sharp, mocking. For a time they stood silent, watching the departing rider. Then Ferguson s lips wreathed into a feline smile. "Kind of dramatic, him ridin up that-a- way," he said. "Don t you think puttin him in the book will spoil it, ma am?" 166 CHAPTER XIII "DO YOU SMOKE?" LEVIATT rode down through the gully where Miss Radford had first caught sight of Ferguson when he had entered the flat. He disappeared in this and five minutes later came out upon a ridge above it. The distance was too great to ob serve whether he turned to look back. But just before he disappeared finally they saw him sweep his hat from his head. It was a derisive motion, and Miss Radford colored and shot a furtive glance at Ferguson. The latter stood loosely beside her, his hat brim pulled well down over his forehead. As she looked she saw his eyes narrow and his lips curve ironically. "What do you suppose he thought?" she questioned, her eyes drooping away from his. 167 THE TWO-GUN MAN "Him?" Ferguson laughed. "I expect you could see from his actions that he wasn t a heap tickled." Some thought was moving him mightily. He chuckled gleefully. "Now if you could only put what he was thinkin into your book, ma am, it sure would make interestin readin ." "But he saw you holding my hand!" she declared, aware of the uselessness of telling him this, but unable to repress her indigna tion over the thought that Leviatt had seen. "Why, I expect he did, ma am!" he re turned, trying hard to keep the pleasure out of his voice. "You see, he must have been lookin right at us. But there ain t nothin to be flustered over. I reckon that some day, if he s around, he ll see me holdin your hand again." The red in her cheeks deepened. "Why, how conceited you are!" she said, trying to be very severe, but only succeeding in mak ing him think that her eyes were prettier than he had thought. "I don t think I am conceited, ma am," he returned, smiling. "I ve liked you right 168 r DO YOU SMOKE? 3 well since the beginning. I don t think it s conceit to tell a lady that you re thinkin of holdin her hand." She was looking straight at him, trying to be very defiant. "And so you have liked me?" she taunted. "I am considering whether to tell you that I was not thinking of you as a possible admirer." His eyes flashed. "I don t think you mean that, ma am," he said. "You ain t treated me like you treated some others." "Some others?" she questioned, not com prehending. He laughed. "Them other Two Diamond men that took a shine to you. I ve heard that you talked right sassy to them. But you ain t never been sassy to me. Least ways, you ain t never told me to evap orate ." She was suddenly convulsed. "They have told you that?" she questioned. And then not waiting for an answer she con tinued more soberly: "And so you thought* that in view of what I have said to those men you had been treated comparatively 169 THE TWO-GUN MAN civilly. I am afraid I have underestimated you. Hereafter I shall talk less intimately to you." "I wouldn t do that, ma am," he pleaded. "You don t need to be afraid that I ll be too fresh." "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, with a pretense of delight. "It will be very nice to know that I can talk to you without fear of your placing a false construction on my words. But I am not afraid of you." He stepped back from the rock, hitching at his cartridge belt. "I m goin over to the Two Diamond now, ma am," he said. "And since you ve said you ain t afraid of me, I m askin you if you won t go ridin with me to morrow. There s a right pretty stretch of country about fifteen miles up the crick that you d be tickled over." Should she tell him that she had explored all of the country within thirty miles? The words trembled on her lips but remained un spoken. "Why, I don t know," she objected. "Do you think it is quite safe?" 170 f DO YOU SMOKE?" He smiled and stepped away from her, looking back over his shoulder. "Thank you, ma am," he said. "I ll ride over for you some time in the mornin ." He con tinued down the hill, loose stones rattling ahead of him. She looked after him, radiant. "But I didn t say I would go," she called. And then, receiving no answer to this, she waited until he had swung into the saddle and was waving a farewell to her. "Don t come before ten o clock!" she ad vised. She saw him smile and then she returned to her manuscript. When the Sun-Gods kissed the crest of the hill and bathed her in the rich rose colors that came straight down to the hill through the rift in the mountains, she rose and gathered up her papers. She had not writ ten another line. It was late in the afternoon when Leviatt rode up to the door of Stafford s office and dismounted. He took plenty of time walk- 171 THE TWO-GUN MAN ing the short distance that lay between him and the door, and growled a savage reply to a loafing puncher, who asked him a ques tion. Once in the office he dropped glumly into a chair, his eyes glittering vengefully as his gaze rested on Stafford, who sat at his desk, engaged in his accounts. Through the open window Stafford had seen the range boss coming and therefore when the latter had entered he had not looked up. Presently he finished his work and drew back from the desk. Then he took up a pipe, filled it with tobacco, lighted it, and puffed with satisfaction. "Nothings happened?" he questioned, glancing at his range boss. Leviatt s reply was short. "No. Dropped down to see how things was runnin ." "Things is quiet," returned Stafford. "There ain t been any cattle missed for a long time. I reckon the new stray-man is doin some good." Leviatt s eyes glowed. "If you call gassin with Mary Radford doin good, why then, he s doin it!" he snapped. 172 7)O YOU SMOKE?" "I ain t heard that he s doin that," re turned Stafford. "I m tellin you about it now," said Leviatt. "I seen him to-day; him an her holdin hands on top of a hill in Bear Flat." He sneered. "He s a better ladies man than a gunfighter. I reckon we made a mistake in pickin him up." Stafford smiled indulgently. "He s cert nly a good looker," he said. "I reckon some girls would take a shine to him. But I ain t questionin his shootin*. I ve been in this country a right smart while an I ain t never seen another man that could bore a can six times while it s in the air." Leviatt s lips drooped. "He could do that an not have nerve enough to shoot a coyote. Him not clashin with Ben Rad- ford proves he ain t got nerve." Stafford smiled. The story of how the stray-man had closed Leviatt s mouth was still fresh in his memory. He was wonder ing whether Leviatt knew that he had heard about the incident. "Suppose you try him?" he suggested. 173 THE TWO-GUN MAN "That d be as good a way as any to find out if he s got nerve." Leviatt s face bloated poisonously, but he made no answer. Apparently unaware that he had touched a tender spot Stafford con tinued. "Mebbe his game is to get in with the girl, figgerin that he ll be more liable that way to get a chancst at Ben Radford. But what ever his game is, I ain t interferin . He s got a season contract an I ain t breakin my word with the cuss. I ain t takin no chances with him." Leviatt rose abruptly, his face swelling with an anger that he was trying hard to suppress. "He d better not go to foolin with Mary Radford, damn him!" he snapped. "I reckon that wind is bio win in two di rections," grinned Stafford. "When I see him I ll tell him " A clatter of hoofs reached the ears of the two men, and Stafford turned to the window. "Here s the stray-man now," he said gravely. Both men were silent when Ferguson f DO YOU SMOKE? 3 reached the door. He stood just inside, looking at Stafford and Leviatt with cold, alert eyes. He nodded shortly to Stafford, not removing his gaze from the range boss. The latter deliberately turned his back and looked out of the window. There was insolence in the movement, but apparently it had no effect upon the stray- man, beyond bringing a queer twitch into the corners of his mouth. He smiled at Stafford. "Anything new?" questioned the latter, as he had questioned Leviatt. "Nothin doin ," returned Ferguson. Leviatt now turned from the window. He spoke to Stafford, sneering. "Ben Rad- ford s quite a piece away from where he s hangin out," he said. He again turned to the window. Ferguson s lips smiled, but his eyes nar rowed. Stafford stiffened in his chair. He watched the stray-man s hands furtively, fearing the outcome of this meeting. But Ferguson s hands were nowhere near his guns. They were folded over his chest 175 THE TWO-GUN MAN lightly the fingers of his right hand caress ing his chin. "You ridin up the crick to-day?" he questioned of Leviatt. His tone was mild, yet there was a peculiar quality in it that hinted at hardness. "No," answered Leviatt, without turn ing. Ferguson began rolling a cigarette. When he had done this he lighted it and puffed slowly. "Well, now," he said, "that s mighty peculiar. "I d swore that I saw you over in Bear Flat." Leviatt turned. "You ve been pickin posies too long with Mary Radford," he sneered. Ferguson smiled. "Mebbe I have," he re turned. "There s them that she ll let pick posies with her, an them that she won t." Leviatt s face crimsoned with anger. "I reckon if you hadn t been monkeyin around too much with the girl, you d have run across that dead Two Diamond cow an the dogie that she left," he sneered. Ferguson s lips straightened. "How far 176 "DO YOU SMOKE?" off was you standin when that cow died?" he drawled. A curse writhed through Leviatt s lips. "Why, you damned- "Don t!" warned Ferguson. He coolly; stepped toward Leviatt, holding by the thongs the leather tobacco pouch from which he had obtained the tobacco to make his cigarette. When he had approached close to the range boss he held the pouch up be fore his eyes. "I reckon you d better have a smoke," he said quietly; "they say it s good for the nerves." He took a long pull at the cigarette. "It s pretty fair tobacco," he con tinued. "I found it about ten miles up the crick, on a ridge above a dry arroyo. I reckon it s your n. It s got your initials on it." The eyes of the two men met in a silent battle. Leviatt s were the first to waver. Then he reached out and took the pouch. "It s mine," he said shortly. Again he looked straight at Ferguson, his eyes carrying a silent message. 177 THE TWO-GUN MAN "You see anything else?" he questioned. Ferguson smiled. "I ain t sayin any thing about anything else," he returned. Thus, unsuspectingly, did Stafford watch and listen while these two men arranged to carry on their war man to man, neither ask ing any favor from the man who, with a word, might have settled it. With his reply that he wasn t "sayin anything about any thing else," Ferguson had told Leviatt that he had no intention of telling his suspicions to any man. Nor from this moment would Leviatt dare whisper a derogatory word into the manager s ear concerning Ferguson. 178 CHAPTER XIV ON THE EDGE OF THE PLATEAU NOW that Ferguson was satisfied be yond doubt that Leviatt had been concealed in the thicket above the bed of the arroyo where he had come upon the dead Two Diamond cow, there remained but one disturbing thought: who was the man he had seen riding along the ridge away from the arroyo? Until he discovered the identity of the rider he must remain abso lutely in the dark concerning Leviatt s mo tive in concealing the name of this other actor in the incident. He was positive that Leviatt knew the rider, but he was equally positive that Leviatt would keep this knowl edge to himself. But on this morning he was not much dis- 179 THE TWO-GUN MAN turbed over the mystery. Other things were troubling him. Would Miss Radford go riding with him? Would she change her mind over night ? As he rode he consulted his silver time- piece. She had told him not to come before ten. The hands of his watch pointed to ten thirty when he entered the flat, and it was near eleven when he rode up to the cabin door to find Miss Radford arrayed in riding skirt, dainty boots, gauntleted gloves, blouse, and soft felt hat awaiting him at the door. "You re late," she said, smiling as she came out upon the porch. If he had been less wise he might have told her that she had told him not to come until after ten and that he had noticed that she had been waiting for him in spite of her apparent reluctance of yesterday. But he steered carefully away from this pitfall. He dismounted and threw the bridle rein over Mustard s head, coming around beside the porch. "I wasn t thinkin to hurry you, ma am, * 180 _ EDGE OF THE PLATEAU he said. "But I reckon we ll go now. It s cert nly a fine day for ridin ." He stood silent for a moment, looking about him. Then he flushed. "Why, I m gettin right box-headed, ma am," he declared. "Here I am standin an makin you sick with my palaver, an your horse waitin to be caught up." He stepped quickly to Mustard s side and uncoiled his rope. She stood on the porch, watching him as he proceeded to the corral, caught the pony, and flung a bridle on it. Then he led the animal to the porch and cinched the saddle carefully. Throwing the reins over the pommel of the saddle, he stood at the animal s head, waiting. She came to the edge of the porch, placed a slender, booted foot into the ox-bow stir rup, and swung gracefully up. In an in stant he had vaulted into his own saddle, and together they rode out upon the gray- white floor of the flat. They rode two miles, keeping near the fringe of cottonwoods, and presently- mounted a long slope. Half an hour later 181 THE TWO-GUN MAN Miss Radford looked back and saw the flat spread out behind, silent, vast, deserted, slumbering in the swimming white sunlight. A little later she looked again, and the flat was no longer there, for they had reached the crest of the slope and their trail had wound them round to a broad level, from which began another slope, several miles distant. They had ridden for more than two hours, talking very little, when they reached the crest of the last rise and saw, spreading be fore them, a level many miles wide, stretch ing away in three directions. It was a grass plateau, but the grass was dry and droop ing and rustled under the ponies hoofs. There were no trees, but a post oak thicket skirted the southern edge, and it was to ward this that he urged his pony. She fol lowed, smiling to think that he was deceiving himself in believing that she had not yet ex plored this place. They came close to the thicket, and he swung off his horse and stood at her stirrup. "I was wantin you to see the country 182 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU from here," he said, as he helped her down. She watched him while he picketed the horses, so that they might not stray. Then they went together to the edge of the thicket, seating themselves in a welcome shade. At their feet the plateau dropped sheer, as though cut with a knife, and a little way out from the base lay a narrow ribbon of water that flowed slowly in its rocky bed, winding around the base of a small hill, spreading over a shallow bottom, and dis appearing between the buttes farther down. Everything beneath them was distinguish able, though distant. Knobs rose here; there a flat spread. Mountains frowned in the distance, but so far away that they seemed like papier-mache shapes towering in a sea of blue. Like a map the country seemed as Miss Radford and Ferguson looked down upon it, yet a big map, over which one might wonder; more vast, more nearly perfect, richer in detail than any that could be evolved from the talents of man. Ridges, valleys, gullies, hills, knobs, and draws were all laid out in a vast basin. Miss 183 THE TWO-GUN MAN Radford s gaze swept down into a section of flat near the river. "Why, there are some cattle down there!" she exclaimed. "Sure," he returned; "they re Two Dia mond. Way off there behind that ridge is where the wagon is." He pointed to a long range of flat hills that stretched several miles. "The boys that are workin on the other side of that ridge can t see them cattle like w r e can. Looks plum re-diculous." "There are no men with those cattle down there," she said, pointing to those below in the flat. "No," he returned quietly; "they re all off on the other side of the ridge." She smiled demurely at him. "Then wei won t be interrupted as we were yester day," she said. Did she know that this was why he had selected this spot for the end of the ride? He looked quickly at her, but answered slowly. "They couldn t see us," he said. "If we was out in the open we d be right on the 184 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU skyline. Then anyone could see us. But we ve got this thicket behind us, an I reckon from down there we d be pretty near in^ visible." He turned around, clasping his hands about one knee and looking squarely at her. "I expect you done a heap with your book yesterday after I went away?" Her cheeks colored a little under his straight gaze. "I didn t stay there long," she equivo cated. "But I got some very good ideas, and I am glad that I didn t write much. I should have had to destroy it, because I have decided upon a different beginning. Ben made the trip to Dry Bottom yesterday, and last night he told something that had happened there that has given me some very good material for a beginning." "That s awful interestin ," he observed. "So now you ll be able to start your book with somethin that really happened?" "Real and original," she returned, with a quick glance at him. "Ben told me that about a month ago some men had a shooting 185 THE TWO-GUN MAN match in Dry Bottom. They used a can for a target, and one man kept it in the air until he put six bullet holes through it. Ben says he is pretty handy with his weapons, but he could never do that. He insists that few men can, and he is inclined to think that the man who did do it must have been a gun- fighter. I suppose you have never tried it?" Over his lips while she had been speaking had crept the slight mocking smile which always told better than words of the cold cynicism that moved him at times. Did she know anything? Did she suspect him? The smile masked an interest that illumined his eyes very slightly as he looked at her. "I expect that is plum slick shootin ," he returned slowly. "But some men can do it. I ve knowed them. But I ain t heard that it s been done lately in this here country. I reckon Ben told you somethin of how this man looked?" He had succeeded in putting the question very casually, and she had not caught the note of deep interest in his voice. "Why it s very odd," she said, looking him 186 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU over carefully; "from Ben s description I should assume that the man looked very like you!" If her reply had startled him he gave little evidence of it. He sat perfectly quiet, gazing with steady eyes out over the big basin. For a time she sat silent also, her gaze following his. Then she turned. "That would be odd, wouldn t it?" she said. "What would?" he answered, not looking at her. "Why, if you were the man who had done that shooting ! It would follow out the idea of my plot perfectly. For in my story the hero is hired to shoot a supposed rustler, and of course he would have to be a good shot. And since Ben has told me the story of the shooting match I have decided that the hero in my story shall be tested in that manner before being employed to shoot the rustler. Then he comes to the supposed rustler s cabin and meets the heroine, in much the same manner that you came. Now if it should turn out that you were the man 187 THE TWO-GUN MAN who did the shooting in Dry Bottom my story up to this point would be very nearly real. And that would be fine!" She had allowed a little enthusiasm to creep into her voice, and he looked up at her quickly, a queer expression in his eyes. "You goin to have your two-gun man bit by a rattler?" he questioned. "Well, I don t know about that. It would make very little difference. But I should be delighted to find that you were the man who did the shooting over at Dry Bottom. Say that you are!" Even now he could not tell whether there was subtlety in her voice. The old doubt rose again in his mind. Was she really serious in saying that she intended putting all this in her story, or was this a ruse, con cealing an ulterior purpose? Suppose she and her brother suspected him of being the man who had participated in the shooting match in Dry Bottom? Suppose the brother, or she, had invented this tale about the book to draw him out? He was moved to an inward humor, amused to think that 188 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU either of them should imagine him shallow enough to be caught thus. But what if they did catch him? Would they gain by it? They could gain nothing, but the knowledge would serve to put them on their guard. But if she did suspect him, what use was there in evasion or denial ? He smiled whimsically. "I reckon your story is goin to be real up to this point," he returned. "A while back I did shoot at a can in Dry Bottom." She gave an exclamation of delight. "Now, isn t that marvelous? No one shall be able to say that my beginning will be strictly fiction." She leaned closer to him, her eyes alight with eagerness. "Now please don t say that you are the man who shot the can five times," she pleaded. "I shouldn t want my hero to be beaten at anything he undertook. But I know that you were not beaten. Were you?" He smiled gravely. "I reckon I wasn t beat," he returned. She sat back and surveyed him with satis faction. 189 THE TWO-GUN MAN "I knew it," she stated, as though in her mind there had never existed any doubt of the fact. "Now," she said, plainly pleased over the result of her questioning, "I shall be able to proceed, entirely confident that my hero will be able to give a good account of himself in any situation." Her eyes baffled him. He gave up watch ing her and turned to look at the world be neath him. He would have given much to know her thoughts. She had said that from her brother s description of the man who had won the shooting match at Dry Bottom she would assume that that man had looked very like him. Did her brother hold this opinion also? Ferguson cared very little if he did. He was accustomed to danger, and he had gone into this business with his eyes open. And if Ben did know Unconsciously his lips straightened and his chin went forward slightly, giving his face an expression of hardness that made him look ten years older. Watching him, the girl drew a slow, full breath. It was a side of his character with 190 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU which she was as yet unacquainted, and she marveled over it, comparing it to the side she already knew the side that he had shown her quiet, thoughtful, subtle. And now at a glance she saw him as men knew him unyielding, unafraid, indomitable. Yet there was much in this sudden revela tion of character to admire. She liked a man whom other men respected for the very traits that his expression had revealed. No man would be likely to adopt an air of superiority toward him ; none would attempt to trifle with him. She felt that she ought not to trifle, but moved by some unaccount able impulse, she laughed. He turned his head at the laugh and looked quizzically at her. "I hope you were not thinking of killing some one?" she taunted. His right hand slowly clenched. Some thing metallic suddenly glinted his eyes, to be succeeded instantly by a slight mockery. "You afraid some one s goin to be killed?" he inquired slowly. "Well no," she returned, startled by the 191 THE TWO-GUN MAN question. "But you looked so so deter mined that I I thought " He suddenly seized her arm and drew her around so that she faced the little stretch of plain near the ridge about which they had been speaking previously. His lips were in straight lines again, his eyes gleaming in terestedly. "You see that man down there among them cattle?" he questioned. Following his gaze, she saw a man among perhaps a dozen cattle. At the moment she looked the man had swung a rope, and she saw the loop fall true over the head of a cow the man had selected, saw the pony pivot and drag the cow prone. Then the man dis mounted, ran swiftly to the side of the fallen cow, and busied himself about her hind legs. "What is he doing?" she asked, a sudden excitement shining in her eyes. "He s hog-tieing her now," returned Fer guson. She knew what that meant. She had seen Ben throw cattle in this manner when he 192 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU was branding them. "Hog-tieing" meant binding their hind legs with a short piece of rope to prevent struggling while the brand was being applied. Apparently this was what the man was preparing to do. Smoke from a nearby fire curled lazily upward, and about this fire the man now worked evidently turning some branding irons. He gave some little time to this, and while Miss Radford watched she heard Ferguson s voice again. "I reckon we re goin to see some fun pretty soon," he said quietly. N Why?" she inquired quickly. He smiled. "Do you see that man ridin through that break on the ridge?" he asked, pointing the place out to her. She nodded, puzzled by his manner. He continued dryly. "Well, if that man that s comin through the break is what he ought to be he ll be shootin pretty soon." "Why?" she gasped, catching at his sleeve, "why should he shoot?" He laughed again grimly. "Well," he re turned, "if a puncher ketches a rustler with 193 THE TWO-GUN MAN the goods on he s got a heap of right to do some shootin ." She shuddered. "And do you think that man among the cattle is a rustler?" she asked. "Wait," he advised, peering intently to ward the ridge. "Why," he continued pres ently, "there s another man ridin this way. An he s hidin from the other keepin in the gullies an the draws so s the first man can t see him if he looks back." He laughed softly. "It s plum re-diculous. Here we are, able to see all that s goin on down there an not able to take a hand in it. An there s them three goin ahead with what they re thinkin about, not knowin that we re watch- in them, an two of them not knowin that the third man is watchin . I d call that plum re-diculous." The first man was still riding through the break in the ridge, coming boldly, apparent ly unconscious of the presence of the man among the cattle, who was well concealed from the first man s eyes by a rocky promon tory at the corner of the break. The third 194 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU man was not over an eighth of a mile behind the first man, and riding slowly and care fully. At the rate the first man was riding not five minutes would elapse before he would come out into the plain full upon the point where the man among the cattle was working at his fire. Ferguson and Miss Radford watched the scene with interest. Plainly the first man was intruding. Or if not, he was the rustler s confederate and the third man was spying upon him. Miss Radford and Fer guson were to discover the key to the situa tion presently. "Do you think that man among the cattle is a rustler?" questioned Miss Radford. In her excitement she had pressed very close to Ferguson and was clutching his arm very tightly. "I reckon he is," returned Ferguson. "I ain t rememberin that any ranch has cows that run the range unbranded; especially when the cow has got a calf, unless that cow is a maverick, an that ain t likely, since she s runnin with the Two Diamond bunch." 195 THE TWO-GUN MAN He leaned forward, for the man had left the fire and was running toward the fallen cow. Once at her side the man bent over her, pressing the hot irons against the bot toms of her hoofs. A thin wreath of smoke curled upward; the cow struggled. Ferguson looked at Miss Radford. "Burnt her hoofs," he said shortly, "so she can t follow when he runs her calf off." "The brute!" declared Miss Radford, her face paling with anger. The man was fumbling with the rope that bound the cow s legs, when the first man rode around the edge of the break and came full upon him. From the distance at which Miss Radford and Ferguson watched they could not see the expression of either man s face, but they saw the rustler s right hand move downward; saw his pistol glitter in the sunlight. But the pistol was not raised. The first man s pistol had appeared just a fraction of a second sooner, and they saw that it was [poised, menacing the rustler. For an instant the two men were motion- 196 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU less. Ferguson felt the grasp on his arm tighten, and he turned his head to see Miss Bedford s face, pale and drawn; her eyes lifted to his with a slow, dawning horror in them. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "They are going to shoot!" She withdrew her hand from Fer guson s arm and held it, with the other, to her ears, cringing away from the edge of the cliff. She waited, breathless, for it seemed to her the space of several minutes, her head turned from the men, her eyes closed for fear that she might, in the dread of the moment, look toward the plain. She kept telling herself that she would not turn, but presently, in spite of her determination, the suspense was too great, and she turned quickly and fearfully, expecting to see at least one riderless horse. That would have been horrible enough. To her surprise both men still kept the positions that they had held when she had turned away. The newcomer s revolver still menaced the rustler. She looked up into Ferguson s face, to see a grim smile on it, to 197 THE TWO-GUN MAN see his eyes, chilled and narrowed, fixed steadily upon the two horsemen. "Oh!" she said, "is it over?" Ferguson heard the question, and smiled mirthlessly without turning his head. "I reckon it ain t over yet," he returned. "But I expect it ll be over pretty soon, if that guy that s got his gun on the rustler don t get a move on right quick. That other guy is comin around the corner of that break, an if he s the rustler s friend that man with the gun will get his pretty rapid." His voice raised a trifle, a slightly anxious note in it. "Why don t the damn fool turn around? He could see that last man now if he did. Now, what do you think of that?" Fer guson s voice was sharp and tense, and, in spite of herself, Miss Radf ord s gaze shifted again to the plains below her. Fascinated, her fear succumbing to the intense interest of the moment, she followed the movements of the trio. From around the corner of the break the third man had ridden. He was not over a 198 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU hundred feet from the man who had caught the rustler and he was walking his horse now. The watchers on the edge of the plateau could see that he had taken in the situation and was stealing upon the captor, who sat in his saddle, his back to the ad vancing rider. Drawing a little closer, the third man stealthily dropped from his pony and crept forward. The significance of this movement dawned upon Miss Radford in a flash, and she again seized Ferguson s arm, tugging at it fiercely. "Why, he s going to kill that man!" she cried. "Can t you do something? For mercy s sake do! Shout, or shoot off your pistol do something to warn him!" Ferguson flashed a swift glance at her, and she saw that his face wore a queer pallor. His expression had grown grimmer, but he smiled a little sadly, she thought. "It ain t a bit of use tryin to do any thing," he returned, his gaze again on the men. "We re two miles from them men an a thousand feet above them. There ain t any 199 THE TWO-GUN MAN pistol report goin to stop what s goin on down there. All we can do is to watch. Mebbe we can recognize one of them. ... . . Shucks!" The exclamation was called from him by a sudden movement on the part of the cap tor. The third man must have made a noise, for the captor turned sharply. At the in stant he did so the rustler s pistol flashed in the sunlight. The watchers on the plateau did not hear the report at once, and when they did it came to them only faintly a slight sound which was barely distinguishable. But they saw a sudden spurt of flame and smoke. The captor reeled drunkenly in his saddle, caught blindly at the pommel, and then slid slowly down into the grass of the plains. Ferguson drew a deep breath and, turn ing, looked sharply at Miss Radford. She had covered her face with her hands and was swaying dizzily. He was up from the rock in a flash and was supporting her, leading her away from the edge of the plateau. She went unresisting, her slender figure shudder- 200 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU ing spasmodically, her hands still covering her face. "Oh!" she exclaimed, as the horror of the scene rose in her mind. "The brutes! The brutes!" Feeling that if he kept quiet she would recover from the shock of the incident sooner, Ferguson said nothing in reply to her outbreaks as he led her toward the ponies. For a moment after reaching them she leaned against her animal s shoulder, her face concealed from Ferguson by the pony s mane. Then he was at her side, speaking firmly. "You must get away from here," he said, "I ought to have got you away before be fore that happened." She looked up, showing him a pair of wide, dry eyes, in which there was still a trace of horror. An expression of grave self-accusation shone in his. "You were not to blame," she said dully. "You may have anticipated a meeting of those men, but you could not have foreseen the end. Oh!" She shuddered again. "To 201 THE TWO-GUN MAN think of seeing a man deliberately mur dered!" "That s just what it was," he returned quietly; "just plain murder. They had him between them. He didn t have a chance. He was bound to get it from one or the other. Looks like they trapped him; run him down there on purpose." He held her stirrup. "I reckon you ve seen enough, ma am," he added. "You d better hop right on your horse an get back to Bear Flat." She shivered and raised her head, looking at him a flash of fear in her eyes. "You are going down there!" she cried, her eyes dilating. He laughed grimly. "I cert nly am, ma am," he returned. "You d better go right off. I m ridin down there to see how bad that man is hit." She started toward him, protesting. "Why, they will kill you, too !" she declared. He laughed again, with a sudden grim humor. "There ain t any danger," he re turned. "They ve sloped." 202 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU Involuntarily she looked down. Far out on the plains, through the break in the ridge of hills, she could see two horsemen racing away. "The cowards!" she cried, her voice shak ing with anger. "To shoot a man in cold blood and then run!" She looked at Fer guson, her figure stiffening with decision. "If you go down there I am going, too!" she declared. "He might need some help," she added, seeing the objection in his eyes, "and if he does I may be able to give it to him. You know," she continued, smiling wanly, "I have had some experience with sick people." He said nothing more, but silently assisted her into the saddle and swung into his own. They urged the animals to a rapid pace, she following him eagerly. It was a rough trail, leading through many gullies, around miniature hills, into bottoms where huge boulders and treacher ous sand barred the way, along the face of dizzy cliffs, and through lava beds where the footing was uncertain and dangerous. But &03 THE TWO-GUN MAN in an hour they were on the plains and rid ing toward the break in the ridge of hills, where the shooting had been done. The man s pony had moved off a little and was grazing unconcernedly when they ar rived. A brown heap in the grass told where the man lay, and presently Ferguson was down beside him, one of his limp wrists be tween his fingers. He stood up after a moment, to confront Miss Radf ord, who had fallen behind during the last few minutes of the ride. Ferguson s face was grave, and there was a light in his eyes that thrilled her for a moment as she looked at him. "He ain t dead, ma am," he said as he as sisted her down from her pony. "The bullet got him in the shoulder." She caught a queer note in his voice something approaching appeal. She looked swiftly at him, suspicious. "Do you know him?" she asked. "I reckon I do, ma am," he returned. "It s Rope Jones. Once he stood by me when he thought I needed a friend. If there s any chance I m goin to get him to EDGE OF THE PLATEAU your cabin where you can take care of him till he gets over this if he ever does." She realized now how this tragedy had shocked her. She reeled and the world swam dizzily before her. Again she saw Fer guson dart forward, but she steadied herself and smiled reassuringly. "It is merely the thought that I must now put my little knowledge to a severe test," she said. "It rather frightened me. I don t know whether anything can be done." She succeeded in forcing herself to calm ness and gave orders rapidly. "Get something under his head," she com manded. "No, that will be too high," she added, as she saw Ferguson start to un buckle the saddle cinch on his pony. "Raise his head only a very little. That round thing that you have fastened to your saddle (the slicker) would do very well. There. Now get some water!" She was down beside the wounded man in another instant, cutting away a section of the shirt near the shoulder, with a knife that she had borrowed from Ferguson. The 205 THE TWO-GUN MAN wound had not bled much and was lower than Ferguson had thought. But she gave it what care she could, and when Ferguson arrived with water from the river, a mile away she dressed the wound and applied water to Rope s forehead. Soon she saw that her efforts were to be of little avail. Rope lay pitifully slack and unresponsive. At the end of an hour s work Ferguson bent over her with a question on his lips. "Do you reckon he ll come around, ma am?" She shook her head negatively. "The bullet has lodged somewhere possibly in the lung," she returned. "It entered just above the heart, and he has bled much internally. He may never regain consciousness." Ferguson s face paled with a sudden anger. "In that case, ma am, we ll never know who shot him," he said slowly. "An I m wantin to know that. Couldn t you fetch him to, ma am just long enough so s I could ask him?" She looked up with a slow glance. "I 206 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU can try," she said. "Is there any more whiskey in your flask?" He produced the flask, and they both bent over Rope, forcing a generous portion of the liquor down his throat. Then, alternately bathing the wound and his forehead, they watched. They were rewarded presently by a faint flicker of the eyelids and a slow flow of color in the pale cheeks. Then after a little the eyes opened. In an instant Ferguson s lips were close to Rope s ear. "Who shot you, Rope, old man?" he asked eagerly. "You don t need to be afraid to tell me, it s Ferguson." The wounded man s eyes were glazed with a dull incomprehension. But slowly, as though at last he was faintly conscious of the significance of the question, his eyes glinted with the steady light of returning reason. Suddenly he smiled, his lips opening slight ly. Both watchers leaned tensely forward to catch the low words. "Ferguson told me to look out," he mumbled. "He told me to be careful that they didn t get me between them. But I 207 THE TWO-GUN MAN wasn t thinkin it would happen just that way." And now his eyes opened scornfully and he struggled and lifted himself upon one arm, gazing at some imaginary object. "Why," he said slowly and distinctly, his voice cold and metallic, "you re a hell of a range boss! Why you !" he broke off suddenly, his eyes fixed full upon Miss Rad- ford. "Why, it s a woman! An I thought Why, ma am," he went on, apologeti cally, "I didn t know you was there ! . . .1 But you ain t goin to run off no calf while I m lookin at you. Shucks! Won t the OF Man be some surprised to know that Tuc son an " He shuddered spasmodically and sat erect with a great effort. "You ve got me, damn you!" he sneered. "But you won t never get anyone " He swung his right hand over his head, as though the hand held a pistol. But the arm suddenly dropped, he shuddered again, and sank slowly back his eyes wide and star ing, but unseeing. Ferguson looked sharply at Miss Rad- 208 EDGE OF THE PLATEAU ford, who was suddenly bending over the prostrate man, her head on his breast. She arose after a little, tears starting to her eyes. "He has gone," she said slowly. CHAPTER XV A FREE HAND IT was near midnight when Ferguson rode in to the Two Diamond ranch- house leading Rope s pony. He carefully unsaddled the two animals and let them into the corral, taking great pains to make little noise. Rope s saddle a pe culiar one with a high pommel bearing a silver plate upon which the puncher s name was engraved he placed conspicuously near the door of the bunkhouse. His own he carefully suspended from its accustomed hook in the lean-to. Then, still carefully, he made his way inside the bunkhouse and sought his bunk. At dawn he heard voices outside and he arose and went to the door. Several of the men were gathered about the step talking. 210 A FREE HAND For an instant Ferguson stood, his eyes rov ing over the group. Tucson was not there. He went back into the bunkhouse and walked casually about, taking swift glances at the bunks where the men still slept. Then he returned to the door, satisfied that Tucson had not come in. When he reached the door again he found that the men of the group had discovered the saddle. One of them was saying something about it. "That ain t just the way I take care of my saddle," he was telling the others ; "leavin her out nights." "I never knowed Rope to be that careless before," said another. Ferguson returned to the bunkhouse and ate breakfast. After the meal was finished he went out, caught up Mustard, swung into the saddle, and rode down to the ranchhouse door. He found Staff ord in the office. The latter greeted the stray -man with a smile. "Somethin doin ?" he questioned. "You might call it that," returned Fer guson. He went inside and seated himself near Stafford s desk. THE TWO-GUN MAN "I ve come in to tell you that I saw some rustlers workin on the herd yesterday," he said. Stafford sat suddenly erect, his eyes light ing interrogatively. "It wasn t Ben Radford," continued Fer guson, answering the look. "You d be sur prised if I told you. But I ain t tellin now. I m waitin to see if someone else does. But I m tellin you this: They got Rope Jones." Stafford s face reddened with anger. "They got Rope, you say?" he demanded. "Why, where damn them!" "Back of the ridge about fifteen miles up the crick," returned Ferguson. "I was ridin along the edge of the plateau an I saw a man down there shoot another. I got down as soon as I could an found Rope. There wasn t nothin I could do. So I planted him where I found him an brought his horse back. There was two rustlers there. But only one done the shootin . I got the name of one." Stafford cursed. "I m wantin to know A FREE HAND who it was!" he demanded. "I ll make him > why, damn him, I ll " "You re carryin on awful," observed Fer guson dryly. "But you ain t doin any good." He leaned closer to Stafford. "I m quittin my job right now," he said. Stafford leaned back in his chair, surprised into silence. For an instant he glared at the stray-man, and then his lips curled scorn fully. "So you re quittin , he sneered; "scared plum out because you seen a man put out of business ! I reckon Leviatt wasn t far wrong when he said " "I wouldn t say a lot," interrupted Fer guson coldly. "I ain t admittin that I m any scared. An I ain t carin a heap be cause Leviatt s been gassin to you. But I m quittin the job you give me. Ben Rad- ford ain t the man who s been rustlin your cattle. It s someone else. I m askin you to hire me to find out whoever it is. I m want- in a free hand. I don t want anyone askin me any questions. I don t want anyone orderin me around. But if you want the THE TWO-GUN MAN men who are rustlin your cattle, I m off erin to do the job. Do I get it?" "You re keepin right on workin for the Two Diamond," returned Stafford. "But I d like to get hold of the man who got Rope." Ferguson smiled grimly. "That man ll be gittin his some day," he declared, rising. "I m keepin him for myself. Mebbe I won t shoot him. I reckon Rope d be some tickled if he d know that the man who shot him could get a chance to think it over while some man was stringin him up. You ain t sayin anything about anything." He turned and went out. Five minutes later Stafford saw him riding slowly to ward the river. As the days went a mysterious word be gan to be spoken wherever men congre gated. No man knew whence the word had come, but it was whispered that Rope Jones would be seen no more. His pony joined the remuda; his saddle and other personal effects became prizes for which the men of A FREE HAND the outfit cast lots. Inquiries were made concerning the puncher by friends who per sisted in being inquisitive, but nothing re sulted. In time the word "rustler" became associated with his name, and "caught with the goods" grew to be a phrase that told eloquently of the manner of his death. Later it was whispered that Leviatt and Tucson had come upon Rope behind the ridge, catching him in the act of running off a Two Diamond calf. But as no report had been made to Stafford by either Leviatt or Tucson, the news remained merely rumor. Ferguson had said nothing more to any man concerning the incident. To do so would have warned Tucson. And neither Fer guson nor Miss Radford could have sworn to the man s guilt. In addition to this, there lingered in Ferguson s mind a desire to play this game in his own way. Telling the men of the outfit what he had seen would make his knowledge common property and in the absence of proof might cause him to appear ridiculous. But since the shooting he had little doubt 215 THE TWO-GUN MAN that Leviatt had been Tucson s companion on that day. Rope s scathing words spoken while Miss Radf ord had been trying to revive him . "You re a hell of a range boss," had convinced the stray-man that Leviatt had been one of the assailants. He had wondered much over the emotions of the two when they returned to the spot where the murder had been committed, to find their victim buried and his horse gone. But of one thing he was certain their surprise over the discovery that the body of their victim had been buried could not have equalled their discomfiture on learning that the latter s pony had been secretly brought to the home ranch, and that among the men of the outfit was one, at least, who knew some thing of their guilty secret. Ferguson thought this to be the reason that they had not reported the incident to Stafford. There was now nothing for the stray-man to do but watch. The men who had killed Rope were wary and dangerous, and their next move might be directed at him. But he was not disturbed. One thought brought 216 A FREE HAND him a mighty satisfaction. He was no longer employed to fasten upon Ben Rad- ford the stigma of guilt; no longer need he feel oppressed with the guilty consciousness, when in the presence of Mary Radford, that he was, in a measure, a hired spy whose busi ness it was to convict her brother of the crime of rustling. He might now meet the young woman face to face, without experiencing the sensation of guilt that had always af fected him. Beneath his satisfaction lurked a deeper emotion. During the course of his acquaint ance with Rope Jones he had developed a sincere affection for the man. The grief in his heart over Rope s death was made more poignant because of the latter s words, just before the final moment, which seemed to have been a plea for vengeance : "Ferguson told me to look out. He told me to be careful that they didn t get me be tween them. But I wasn t thinkin that it would happen just that way." This had been all that Rope had said about his friend, but it showed that during 217 THE TWO-GUN MAN his last conscious moments he had been thinking of the stray-man. As the days passed the words dwelt continually in Fer guson s mind. Each day that he rode abroad, searching for evidence against the murderers, brought him a day nearer to the vengeance upon which he had determined. 218 CHAPTER XVI LEVIATT TAKES A STEP MISS RADFORD was sitting on the flat rock on the hill where she had written the first page of her novel. The afternoon sun was coming slantwise over the western mountains, sinking steadily toward the rift out of which came the rose veil that she had watched many times. She had just completed a paragraph in which the villain appears when she became aware of someone standing near. She turned swiftly, with heightened color, to see Leviatt. His sudden appearance gave her some thing of a shock, for as he stood there, smil ing at her, he answered perfectly the descrip tion she had just written. He might have THE TWO-GUN MAN just stepped from one of her pages. But the shock passed, leaving her a little pale, but quite composed and not a little annoyed. She had found her work interesting ; she had become quite absorbed in it. Therefore she failed to appreciate Leviatt s sudden ap pearance, and with uptilted chin turned from him and pretended an interest in the rim of hills that surrounded the flat. For an instant Leviatt stood, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Then with a smile he stepped forward and seated himself be side her on the rock. She immediately drew her skirts close to her and shot a displeased glance at him from the corners of her eyes. Then seeing that he still sat there, she moved her belongings a few feet and fol lowed them. He could not doubt the significance of this move, but had he been wise he might have ignored it. A woman s impulses will move her to rebuke a man, but if he will accept without comment he may be reasonably sure of her pity, and pity is a path of promise. But the range boss neglected his oppor- 220 LEFIATT TAKES A STEP tunity. He made the mistake of thinking that because he had seen her many times while visiting her brother he might now with propriety assume an air of intimacy toward her. "I reckon this rock is plenty big enough for both of us," he said amiably. She measured the distance between them with a calculating eye. "It is," she returned quietly, "if you remain exactly where you are." He forced a smile. "An if I don t?" he inquired. "You may have the rock to yourself," she returned coldly. "I did not ask you to come here." He chose to ignore this hint, telling her that he had been to the cabin to see Ben and, finding him absent, had ridden through the flat. "I saw you when I was quite a piece away," he concluded, "an thought mebbe you might be lonesome." "When I am lonesome I choose my own company," she returned coldly. "Why, sure," he said, his tone slightly THE TWO-GUN MAN sarcastic; "you cert nly ought to know who you want to talk to. But you ain t objectin to me settin on this hill?" he inquired. "The hill is not mine," she observed quiet ly, examining one of the written pages of her novel; "sit here as long as you like." "Thanks." He drawled the word. Lean ing back on one elbow he stretched out as though assured that she would make no fur ther objections to his presence. She ignored him completely and very deliberately ar ranged her papers and resumed writing. For a time he lay silent, watching the pencil travel the width of the page and then back. A mass of completed manuscript lay at her side, the pages covered with care fully written, legible words. She had al ways taken a pardonable pride in her pen manship. For a while he watched her, puzzled, furtively trying to decipher some of the words that appeared upon the pages. But the distance was too great for him and he finally gave it up and fell to looking at her instead, though determined to solve the wordy mystery that was massed near her. 222 LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP Finally finding the silence irksome, he dropped an experimental word, speaking casually. "You must have been to school a heap writin like you do." She gave him no answer, being at that moment absorbed in a thought which she was trying to transcribe before it should take wings and be gone forever. "Writin comes easy to some people," he persisted. The thought had been set down; she turned very slightly. "Yes," she said look ing steadily at him, "it does. So does im pertinence." He smiled easily. "I ain t aimin to be impertinent," he returned. "I wouldn t reckon that askin you what you are writin would be impertinent. It s too long for a letter." "It is a novel," she returned shortly. He smiled, exulting over this partial con cession. "I reckon to write a book you must be some special kind of a woman," he ob served admiringly. She was silent. He sat up and leaned to- rui: riro-(;ry MAX ward her, his eyes flashing with a sudden "If that s it," he said with unmistakable significance, "I don t mind tellin" you that I m some partial to them special kind." Her chin lose a little. "1 am not con cerned over your feelings." she returned without looking at him. "That kind of a woman would naturally know a heap," he went on, apparently un mindful of the rebuke: "they d eert nly know enough to be able to see when a man likes them." She evidently understood the drift, for her eyes glowed subtly. "It is too bad that you are not a special kind of man, then," she replied. "Meanin ?" he questioned, his eyes glint ing with eagerness. "Meaning that it you were a special kind of man you would be able to tell when a woman doesn t like you," she said coldly. "I reckon that I ain t a special kind then," he declared, his face reddening slightly. "Of course. I ve seen that you ain t appeared to 4.JOJ. ,-.-.:* LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP take much of a shine to me. But I ve heard that there s women that can be won if a man ke -ps at it Jon;/ -nough." "Some men like to waste their time," she returner] quietly. "I don t call it wastin time to be talkin to you," he declared rapidly. "Our opinions differ," she observed short ly, resting the pencil point on the page that she had been writing. Her profile was toward him; her cheeks were tinged with color; some stray wisps of hair hung, breeze-blown, over her forehead and temples. She marie an attractive pic ture, sitting there with the soft sunlight about her, a picture whose beauty smote J.eviatt s heart with a pang of sudden re gret and disappointment. She might have been his, but for the coming of Ferguson. And now, because of the stray-man s wiles, he was losing her. A sudden rage seized upon him ; he leaned forward, his face bloating poisonously. "Mebbe I could name a man who ain t wastin his time!" he sneered. THE TWO-GUN MAN She turned suddenly and looked at him, dropping pencil and paper, her eyes flashing with a bitter scorn. "You are one of those sulking cowards who fawn over men and insult defenseless women!" she declared, the words coming slowly and distinctly. He had realized before she answered that he had erred, and he smiled deprecatingly, the effort contorting his face. "I wasn t meanin just that," he said weakly. "I reckon it s a clear field an no favors." He took a step toward her, his voice growing tense. "I ve been comin down to your cabin a lot, sayin that I was comin to see Ben. But I didn t come to see Ben I wanted to look at you. I reckon you knowed that. A woman can t help but see when a man s in love with her. But you ve never give me a chance to tell you. I m tellin you now. I want you to marry me. I m range boss for the Two Diamond an I ve got some stock that s my own, an money in the bank over in Cimarron. I ll put up a shack a few miles down the river an 1" LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP "Stop!" commanded Miss Radford im periously. Leviatt had been speaking rapidly, ab sorbed in his subject, assurance shining in his face. But at Miss Radford s command he broke off suddenly and stiffened, surprise widening his eyes. "You have said enough," she continued; "quite enough. I have never thought of you as a possible admirer. I certainly have done nothing that might lead you to believe I would marry you. I do not even like you not even respect you. I am not certain that I shall ever marry, but if I do, I certainly shall not marry a man whose every look is an insult." She turned haughtily and began to gather up her papers. There had been no excite ment in her manner; her voice had been steady, even, and tempered with a slight scorn. For a brief space Leviatt stood, while the full significance of her refusal ate slowly into his consciousness. Whatever hopes he might have had had been swept away in 227 THE TWO-GUN MAN those few short, pithy sentences. His pas sion checked, the structure erected by his imagination toppled to ruin, his vanity hurt, he stood before her stripped of the veneer that had made him seem, heretofore, nearly the man he professed to be. In her note book had been written: "Dave Leviatt. . . . One rather gets the impression that the stoop is a reflection of the man s nature, which seems vindictive and suggests a low cunning. His eyes are small, deep set, and glitter when he talks. But they are steady and cold almost merci less. One s thoughts go instantly to the tiger. I shall try to create that impression in the reader s mind." And now as she looked at him she was sure that task would not be difficult. She had now an impression of him that seemed as though it had been seared into her mind. The eyes that she had thought merciless were ( now glittering malevolently, and she shud dered at the satyric upward curve of his lips as he stepped close to the rock and placed a hand upon the mass of manuscript lying LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP there, that she had previously dropped, to prevent her leaving. "So you don t love me?" he sneered. "You don t even respect me. Why? Because you ve taken a shine to that damned maverick that come here from Dry Bottom Stafford s new stray-man!" "That is my business," she returned icily. "It sure is," he said, the words writhing venomously through his lips. "An it s my business too. There ain t any damned " He had glanced suddenly downward while he had been talking and his gaze rested upon an upturned page of the manuscript that lay beside him on the rock. He broke off speak ing and reaching down took up the page, his eyes narrowing with interest. The page he had taken up was one from the first chapter and described in detail the shooting match in Dry Bottom. It was a truthful picture of what had actually happened. She had even used the real names of the char acters. Leviatt saw a reference to the "Silver Dollar" saloon, to the loungers, to the stranger who had ridden up and who sat 229 THE TWO-GUN MAN on his pony near the hitching rail, and who was called Ferguson. He saw his own name; read the story of how the stranger had eclipsed his feat by putting six bullets into the can. He dropped the page to the rock and looked up at Miss Radford with a short laugh. "So that s what you re writin ?" he sneered. "You re writin somethin that really happened. You re even writin the real names an tellin how Stafford s stray- man butted in an beat me shootin. You knowin this shows that him an you has been travelin pretty close together." For an instant Miss Radford forgot her anger. Her eyes snapped with a sudden interest. "Were you the man who hit the can five times?" she questioned, unable to conceal her eagerness. She saw a flush slowly mount to his face. Evidently he had said more than he had in tended. "Well, if I am?" he returned, his lips 230 LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP writhing in a sneer. "Him beatin me shoot- in that way don t prove nothin ." She was now becoming convinced of her cleverness. From Ben s description of the man who had won the shooting match she had been able to lead Ferguson to the ad mission that he had been the central char acter in that incident, and now it had tran spired that Leviatt was the man he had beaten. This had been the way she had writ ten it in the story. So far the plot that had been born of her imagination had proved to be the story of a real occurrence. She had counted upon none but im aginary characters, though she had deter mined to clothe these with reality through study but now, she had discovered, she had been the chronicler of a real incident, and two of her characters had been pitted against each other in a contest in which there had been enough bitterness to provide the animus necessary to carry them through succeeding pages, ready and willing to fly at each other s throats. She was not able to conceal her satisfaction over the discovery, and when 231 THE TWO-GUN MAN she looked at Leviatt again she smiled broad- iy. "That confession explains a great many things," she said, stooping to recover the page that he had dropped beside her upon the rock. "Meanin what?" he questioned, his eyes glittering evilly. "Meaning that I now know why you are not friendly toward Mr. Ferguson," she re turned. "I heard that he beat you in the shooting match," she went on tauntingly, "and then when you insulted him after wards, he talked very plainly to you." The moment she had spoken she realized that her words had hurt him, for he paled and his eyes narrowed venomously. But his voice was cold and steady. "Was Mr. Ferguson tellin you that?" he inquired, succeeding in placing ironic em phasis upon the prefix. She was arranging the contents of her hand bag and she did not look up as she answered him. "That is my business," she returned quiet- LEVIATT TAKES A STEP ly. "But I don t mind telling you that the man who told me about the occurrence would not lie about it." "It ;> nice that you ve got such a heap of faith in him," he sneered. It was plain to her that he thought Fer guson had told her about the shooting match, and it was equally plain that he still har bored evil thoughts against the stray-man. And also, he suspected that something more than mere friendship existed between her, and Ferguson. She had long hoped that one day she might be given the opportunity of meeting in person a man whose soul was con sumed with jealousy, in order that she might be able to gain some impressions of the in tensity of his passion. This seemed to be her opportunity. Therefore she raised her chin a little and looked at him with a tantalizing smile. "Of course I have faith in him," she de clared, with a slight, biting emphasis. "I believe in him absolutely." She saw his lips twitch. "Sure," he sneered, "you was just beginnin to believe 233 THE TWO-GUN MAN in him that day when you was holdin hands with him just about here. I reckon he was enjoyin himself." She started, but smiled immediately. "So you saw that?" she inquired, knowing that he had, but taking a keen delight in seeing that he still remembered. But this conver sation was becoming too personal; she had no desire to argue this point with him, even to get an impression of the depth of his passion, so she gathered up her belongings and prepared to depart. But he stepped deliberately in front of her, barring the way of escape. His face was aflame with pas sion. "I seen him holdin your hand," he said, his voice trembling; "I seen that he was holdin it longer than he had any right. An I seen you pull your hand away when you thought I was lookin at you. I reckon you ve taken a shine to him; he s the kind that the women like with his slick ways an smooth palaver an his love makin ." He laughed with his lips only, his eyes narrowed to glittering pin points. She had not 234 LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP thought that jealousy could make a person half so repulsive. "If you re lovin him," he continued, lean ing toward her, his muscles tense, his lips quivering with a passion that he was no longer able to repress, "I m tellin you that you re wastin your time. You wouldn t think so much of him if you knowed that he come here " Leviatt had become aware that Miss Rad- ford was not listening; that she was no longer looking at him, but at something be hind him. At the instant he became aware of this he turned sharply in his tracks, his right hand falling swiftly to his holster. Not over half a dozen paces distant stood Ben Radford, gravely watching. "Mebbe you folks are rehearsing a scene from that story," he observed quietly. "I wasn t intending to interrupt, but I heard loud talking and I thought mebbe it wasn t anything private. So I just got off my horse and climbed up here, to satisfy my curiosity." Leviatt s hand fell away from the holster, 235 THE TWO-GUN MAN a guilty grin overspreading his face. "I reckon we wasn t rehearsin any scene," he said, trying to make the words come easily. "I was just tellin your sister that " Miss Radford laughed banteringly. "You have spoiled a chapter in my book, Ben," she declared with pretended annoyance; "Mr. Leviatt had just finished proposing to me and was at the point where he was sup posed to speak bitter words about his rival." She laughed again, gazing at Leviatt with mocking eyes. "Of course, I shall never be able to tell my readers what he might have said, for you appeared at a most inoppor tune time. But he has taught me a great deal much more, in fact, than I ever ex pected from him." She bowed mockingly. "I am very, very much obliged to you, Mr. Leviatt," she said, placing broad emphasis upon her words. "I promise to try and make a very interesting character of you there were times when you were most dramatic." She bowed to Leviatt and flashed a daz zling smile at her brother. Then she walked 236 LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP past Leviatt, picked her way daintily over the loose stones on the hillside, and de scended to the level where she had tethered her pony. Ben stood grinning admiringly after her as she mounted and rode out into the flat. Then he turned to Leviatt, soberly contemplating him. "I don t think you were rehearsing for the book," he said quietly, an undercurrent of humor in his voice. "She was funnin me," returned Leviatt, his face reddening. "I reckon she was," returned Ben dryly. "She s certainly some clever at handing it to a man." He smiled down into the flat, where Miss Radford could still be seen, rid ing toward the cabin. "Looks as though she wasn t quite ready to change her name to Leviatt ," he grinned. But there was no humor in Leviatt s re flections. He stood for JL moment, looking down into the flat, the expression of his face morose and sullen. Ben s bantering words only added fuel to the flame of rage and dis appointment that was burning fiercely in his 237 THE TWO-GUN MAN heart. Presently the hard lines of his lips disappeared and he smiled craftily. "She s about ready to change her name," he said. "Only she ain t figgerin that it s goin to be Leviatt." "You re guessing now," returned Ben sharply. Leviatt laughed oddly. "I reckon I ain t doin any guessin ," he returned. "You ve been around her a heap an been seein her consid able, but you ain t been usin your eyes." "Meaning what?" demanded Ben, an acid-like coldness in his voice. "Meanin that if you d been usin your eyes you d have seen that she s some took up with Stafford s new stray-man." "Well," returned Ben, "she s her own boss. If she s made friends with Ferguson that s her business." He laughed. "She s certainly clever," he added, "and mebbe she s got her own notion as to why she s made friends with him. She s told me that she s goin to make him a character in the book she s writing. Likely she s stringing him." LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP "I reckon she ain t stringin him," de clared Leviatt. "A girl ain t doin much stringin when she s holdin a man s hand an blushin when somebody ketches her at it." There was a slight sneer in Leviatt s voice which drew a sharp glance from Radford. For an instant his face clouded and he was about to make a sharp reply. But his face cleared immediately and he smiled. "I m banking on her being able to take care of herself," he returned. "Her holding Ferguson s hand proves nothing. Likely she was trying to get an impression she s always telling me that. But she s running her own game, and if she is stringing Fer guson that s her business, and if she thinks a good bit of him that s her business, too. If a man ain t jealous, he might be able to see that Ferguson ain t a half bad sort of a man." An evil light leaped into Leviatt s eyes. He turned and faced Radford, words com ing from his lips coldly and incisively. "When you interrupted me," he said, "I was goin to tell your sister about Ferguson. $39 THE TWO-GUN MAN Mebbe if I tell you what I was goin to tell her it ll make you see things some different. A while ago Stafford was wantin to hire a gunfighter." He shot a significant glance at Radford, who returned it steadily. "I reckon you know what he wanted a gun- fighter for. He got one. His name s Fer guson. He s gettin a hundred dollars a month for the season, to put Ben Radford out of business !" The smile had gone from Radf ord s face ; his lips were tightly closed, his eyes cold and alert. "You lying about Ferguson because you think he s friendly with Mary?" he ques tioned quietly. Leviatt s right hand dropped swiftly to his holster. But Radford laughed harshly. "Quit it!" he said sharply. "I ain t sayin you re a liar, but what you ve said makes you liable to be called that until you ve proved you ain t. How do you know Fer guson s been hired to put me out of busi ness?" Leviatt laughed. "Stafford an me went 240 LEVIATT TAKES A STEP to Dry Bottom to get a gunfighter. I shot a can in the street in front of the Silver Dollar so s Stafford would be able to get a line on anyone tryin to beat my game. Fer guson done it an Stafford hired him." Radford s gaze was level and steady. "Then you ve knowed right along that he was lookin for me," he said coldly. "Why didn t you say something about it before. .You ve been claiming to be my friend." Leviatt flushed, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, but watching Radford with alert and suspicious glances. "Why," he returned shortly, "I m range boss for the Two Diamond an I ain t hired to tell what I know. I reckon you d think I was a hell of a man to be tellin things that I ain t got no right to tell." "But you re telling it now," returned Rad ford, his eyes narrowing a little. "Yes," returned Leviatt quietly, "I am. An you re callin me a liar for it. But I m tellin you to wait. Mebbe you ll tumble. I reckon you ain t heard how Ferguson s been tellin the boys that he went down to your THE TWO-GUN MAN cabin one night claimin to have been bit by a rattler, because he wanted to get ac quainted with you an pot you some day when you wasn t expectin it. An then after he d stayed all night in your cabin he was braggin to the boys that he reckoned on makin a fool of your sister. Oh, he s some slick!" he concluded, a note of triumph in his voice. Radford started, his face paling a little. He had thought it strange that an ex perienced plainsman as Ferguson ap peared to be should have been bitten by a rattler in the manner he had described. And then he had been hanging around the "Mebbe you might think it s onusual for Stafford to hire a two-gun man to look after strays," broke in Leviatt at this point. "Two-gun men ain t takin such jobs regu lar," he insinuated. "Stray-men is usual low-down, mean, ornery cusses which ain t much good for anything else, an so they spend their time mopin around, doin work that ain t fit for any puncher to do." Radford had snapped himself erect, his LEV I ATT TAKES A STEP lips straightening. He suddenly held out a hand to Leviatt. "I m thanking you," he said steadily. "It s rather late for you to be telling me, but I think it s come in time any way. I m watching him for a little while, and if things are as you say " He broke off, his voice filled with a significant grim- ness. "So-long," he added. He turned and descended the slope of the hill. An instant later Leviatt saw him lop ing his pony toward the cabin. For a few minutes Leviatt gazed after him, his eyes alight with satisfaction. Then he, too, de scended the slope of the hill and mounted his pony. 243 CHAPTER XVII A BREAK IN THE STORY MARY RADFORD had found the day too beautiful to remain indoors and so directly after dinner she had caught up her pony and was off for a ride through the cottonwood. She had been com pelled to catch up the pony herself, for of late Ben had been neglectful of this duty. Until the last week or so he had always caught her pony and placed the saddle on it before leaving in the morning, assuring her that if she did not ride during his absence the pony would not suffer through being saddled and bridled. But within the last week she thought she detected a change in Ben s manner. He seemed preoccupied and glum, falling suddenly into a taciturnity 244 A BREAK IN THE STORY broken only by brief periods during which he condescended to reply to her questions with it seemed grudging monosyllables. Several times, too, she had caught him watching her with furtive glances in which, she imagined, she detected a glint of specu lation. But of this she was not quite sure, for when she bluntly questioned him con cerning his moods he had invariably given her an evasive reply. Fearing that there might have been a recurrence of the old trouble with the Two Diamond manager about which he had told her during her first days at the cabin she ventured a question. He had grimly assured her that he antici pated no further trouble in that direction. So, unable to get a direct reply from him she had decided that perhaps he would speak when the time came, and so she had ceased questioning. In spite of his negligence regarding the pony, she had not given up her rides. Nor had she neglected to give a part of each morning to the story. The work of gradually developing her 245 THE TWO-GUX VAX hero s character had been an absorbing task: times when she lingered over the pages of the story she found herself wondering whether she had sounded the depths of his nature. She knew, at least, that she had made him attractive, for as he moved among her pages, she who should have been satiated with him because of being compelled to record his every word and movement found his magnetic personality drawing her applause, found that he haunted her dreams, discovered one day that her waking mo ments were filled with thoughts of him. But of late she had begun to suspect that her interest in him was not all on account of the story : there were times when she sat long thinking of him, seeing him, watching the lights and shadows of expression come and go in his face. Somewhere between the real Ferguson and the man who was impersonat ing him in her story was an invisible line that she could not trace. There were times when she could not have told whether the character she admired belonged to the real or the unreal. 246 A BREAK IX THE STORY She was thinking much of this to-day while she rode into the subdued light of the cotton wood. Was she, absorbed in the task of putting a real character in her story, to confess that her interest in him was not wholly the interest of the artist who sees the beauties and virtues of a model only long enough to paint them into the picture : The blushes came when she suddenly realized that her interest was not wholly professional, that she had lately lingered long over her model, at times when she had not been think ing of the story at all. Then, too, she had considered her friends in the East. What would they say if they knew of her friendship with the Two Dia mond stray-man ? The standards of Eastern civilization were not elastic enough to in clude the man whom she had come to know so well, who had strode as boldly into her life as he had strode into her story, with his steady, serene eyes, his picturesque rigging, and his two guns, their holsters tied so sug gestively and forebodingly down. Would her friends be able to see the romance in 247 THE TWO-GUN MAN him? Would they be able to estimate him according to the standards of the world in which he lived, in which he moved so grace fully? She was aware that, measured by Eastern standards, Ferguson fell far short of the average in those things that combine to pro duce the polished gentleman. Yet she was also aware that these things were mere ac complishments, a veneer acquired through constant practice and that usually the per son known as "gentleman" could not be dis tinguished by these things at all that the real "gentleman" could be known only through the measure of his quiet and genuine consideration and unfailing Chris tian virtues. As she rode through the cottonwood, into that deep solitude which brings with it a mighty reverence for nature and a solemn desire for communion with the soul that solitude in which all affectation disappears and man is face to face with his Maker she tried to think of Ferguson in an Eastern drawing room, attempting a sham courtesy,, 248 A BREAK IN THE STORY affecting mannerisms that more than once had brought her own soul into rebellion. But she could not get him into the imaginary picture. He did not belong there ; it seemed that she was trying to force a living figure into a company of mechanical puppets. And so they were puppets who answered to the pulling strings of precedent and established convention. But at the same time she knew that this society which she affected to despise would refuse to accept him ; that if by any chance he should be given a place in it he would be an object of ridicule, or at the least passive contempt. The world did not want origin ality; would not welcome in its drawing room the free, unaffected child of nature. No, the world wanted pretense, imitation. It frowned upon truth and applauded the sycophant. She was not even certain that if she suc ceeded in making Ferguson a real living character the world would be interested in him. But she had reached that state of mind in which she cared very little about the 249 THE TWO-GUN MAN world s opinion. She, at least, was in terested in him. Upon the same afternoon for there is no rule for the mere incidents of life Fer guson loped his pony through the shade of the cottonwood. He was going to visit the cabin in Bear Flat. Would she be at home? Would she be glad to see him? He could not bring his mind to give him an affirmative answer to either of these questions. But of one thing he was certain she had treated him differently from the other Two Diamond men who had attempted to win her friendship. Was he to think then that she cared very little whether he came to the cabin or not? He smiled over his pony s mane at the thought. He could not help but see that she enjoyed his visits. When he rode up to the cabin he found it deserted, but with a smile he remounted Mustard and set out over the river trail, through the cottonwood. He was sure that he would find her on the hill in the flat, and when he had reached the edge of the cotton- wood opposite the hill he saw her. 250 A BREAK IN THE STORY When she heard the clatter of his pony s hoofs she turned and saw him, waving a hand at him. "I reckoned on findin you here," he said when he came close enough to be heard. She shyly made room for him beside her on the rock, but there was mischief in her eye. "It seems impossible to hide from you," she said with a pretense of annoyance. He laughed as he came around the edge of the rock and sat near her. "Was you really tryin to hide?" he questioned. "Because if you was," he continued, "you hadn t ought to have got up on this hill where I could see you without even lookin for you." "But of course you were not looking for me," she observed quietly. He caught her gaze and held it steadily. "I reckon I was lookin for you," he said. "Why why," she returned, suddenly fearful that something had happened to Ben "is anything wrong?" He smiled. "Nothin is wrong," he re turned. "But I wanted to talk to you, an I expected to find you here." 251 THE TWO-GUN MAN There was a gentleness in his voice that she had not heard before, and a quiet signif icance to his words that made her eyes droop away from his with slight confusion. She replied without looking at him. "But I came here to write," she said. He gravely considered her, drawing one foot up on the rock and clasping his hands about the knee. "I ve thought a lot about that book," he declared with a trace of em barrassment, "since you told me that you was goin to put real men an women in it. I expect you ve made them do the things that you ve wanted them to do an made them say what you wanted them to say. That part is right an proper there wouldn t be any sense of anyone writin a book unless they could put into it what they thought was right. But what s been botherin me is this : how can you tell whether the things you ve made them say is what they would have said if they d had any chance to talk? An how can you tell what their feelin s would be when you set them doin somethin ?" She laughed. "That is a prerogative A BREAK IN THE STORY which the writer assumes without question," she returned. "The author of a novel makes his characters think and act as the author himself imagines he would act in the same circumstances." He looked at her with amused eyes. "That s just what I was tryin to get at," he said. "You ve put me into your book, an you ve made me do an say things out of your mind. But you don t know for sure whether I would have done an said things just like you ve wrote them. Mebbe if I would have had somethin to say I wouldn t have done things your way at all." "I am sure you would," she returned positively. "Well, now," he returned smiling, "you re speakin as though you was pretty certain about it. You must have wrote a whole lot of the story." "It is two-thirds finished," she returned with a trace of satisfaction in her voice which did not escape him. "An you ve got all your characters doin an thinkin things that you think they ought 253 THE TWO-GUN MAN to do?" His eyes gleamed craftily. "You got a man an a girl in it?" "Of course." "An they re goin to love one another?" "No other outcome is popular with novel readers," she returned. He rocked back and forth, his eyes lan guidly surveying the rim of hills in the dis tance. "I expect that outcome is popular in real life too," he observed. "Nobody ever hears about it when it turns out some other way." "I expect love is always a popular sub ject," she returned smiling. His eyes were still languid, his gaze still on the rim of distant hills. "You got any love talk in there between the man an the girl?" he questioned. "Of course." "That s mighty interestin ," he returned. "I expect they do a good bit of mushin ?" "They do not talk extravagantly," she defended. "Then I expect it must be pretty good," he returned. "I don t like mushy love 254 A BREAK IN THE STORY stories." And now he turned and looked fairly at her. "Of course," he said slyly, "I don t know whether it s necessary or not, but I ve been thinkin that to write a good love story the writer ought to be in love. Whoever was writin would know more about how it feels to be in love." She admired the cleverness with which he had led her up to this point, but she was not to be trapped. She met his eyes fairly. "I am sure it is not necessary for the writer to be in love," she said quietly but positively. "I flatter myself that my love scenes are rather real, and I have not found it necessary to love anyone." This reply crippled him instantly. "Well, now," he said, eyeing her, she thought, a bit reproachfully, "that comes pretty near stumpin me. But," he added, a subtle ex pression coming again into his eyes, "you say you ve got only two-thirds finished. Mebbe you ll be in love before you get it all done. An then mebbe you ll find that you didn t get it right an have to do it all over again. That would sure be too bad, when 255 THE TWO-GUN^ MAN you could have got in love an wrote it real in the first place." "I don t think that I shall fall in love," she said laughing. He looked quickly at her, suddenly grave. "I wouldn t want to think you meant that," he said. "Why?" she questioned in a low voice, her laughter subdued by his earnestness. "Why," he said steadily, as though stat ing a perfectly plain fact, "I ve thought right along that you liked me. Of course I ain t been fool enough to think that you loved me" and now he reddened a little , "but I don t deny that I ve hoped that you would." "Oh, dear!" she laughed; "and so you have planned it all out! And I was hoping that you would not prove so deep as that. You know," she went on, "you promised me a long while ago that you would not fall in love with me." "I don t reckon that I said that," he re turned. "I told you that I wasn t goin to get fresh. I reckon I ain t fresh now. But 256 A BREAK IN THE STORY I expect I couldn t help lovin you I ve done that since the first day." She could not stop the blushes they would come. And so would that thrilling, breathless exultation. No man had ever talked to her like this; no man had ever made her feel quite as she felt at this moment. She turned a crimson face to him. "But you hadn t any right to love me," she declared, feeling sure that she had been unable to make him understand that she meant to rebuke him. Evidently he did not understand that she meant to do that, for he unclasped his hand from his knee and came closer to her, standing at the edge of the rock, one hand resting upon it. "Of course I didn t have any right," he said gravely, "but I loved you just the same. There s been some things in my life that I couldn t help doin . Lovin you is one. I expect that you ll think I m pretty fresh, but I ve been thinkin a whole lot about you an I ve got to tell you. You ain t like the women I ve been used to. An I reckon I ain t just the kind of man you ve been ac- 257 THE TWO-GUN MAN quainted with all your life. You ve been used to seein men who was all slicked up an clever. I expect them kind of men appeal to any woman. I ain t claimin to be none of them clever kind, but I ve been around quite a little an I ain t never done anything that I m ashamed of. I can t offer you a heap, but if you " She had looked up quickly, her cheeks burning. Please don t," she pleaded, rising and placing a hand on his arm, gripping it tight ly. "I have known for a long time, but I I wanted to be sure." He could not suspect that she had only just now begun to realize that she was iia danger of yielding to him and that the knowledge frightened her. "You wanted to be sure?" he questioned, his face clouding. "What is it that you wanted to be sure of?" "Why," she returned, laughing to hide her embarrassment, "I wanted to be sure that you loved me!" "Well, you c n be sure now," he said. "I believe I can," she laughed. "And," 258 r A BREAK IN THE STORY she continued, finding it difficult to pretend seriousness, "knowing what I do will make writing so much easier." His face clouded again. "I don t see what your writin has got to do with it," he said. "You don t?" she demanded, her eyes widening with pretended surprise. "Why, don t you see that I wanted to be sure of your love so that I might be able to portray; a real love scene in my story?" He did not reply instantly, but folded his arms over his chest and stood looking at her. In his expression was much reproach and not a little disappointment. The hopes that had filled his dreams had been ruined by her frivolous words; he saw her at this moment a woman who had trifled with him, who had led him cleverly on to a declaration of love that she might in the end sacrifice him to her art. But in this moment, when he might have been excused for exhibiting anger ; for heaping upon her the bitter reproaches of an < outraged confidence, he was supremely calm. The color fled from his face, leaving it slight- 259 THE TWO-GUN ly pale, and his eyes swam with a deep feel ing that told of the struggle that he was making. "I didn t think you d do it, ma am," he said finally, a little hoarsely. "But I reckon you know your own business best." He smiled slightly. "I don t think there s any use of you an me meetin again I don t want to be goin on, bein a dummy man that you c n watch. But I m glad to have amused you some an I have enjoyed myself, talkin to you. But I reckon you ve done what you wanted to do, an so I ll be gettin along." He smiled grimly and with an effort turned and walked around the corner of the rock, intending to descend the hill and mount his pony. But as he passed around to the side of the rock he heard her voice : "Wait, please," she said in a scarcely; audible voice. He halted, looking gravely at her from the opposite side of the rock. "You wantin to get somethin more for your story?" he asked. She turned and looked over her shoulder 260 r A BREAK IN THE STORY at him, her eyes luminous with a tell-tale ex pression, her face crimson. "Why," she said smiling at him, "do you really think that I could be so mean?" He was around the rock again in half a dozen steps and standing above her, his eyes alight, his lips parted slightly with surprise and eagerness. "Do you mean that you wantin to make sure that I loved you wasn t all for the sake of the story?" he demanded rapidly. Her eyes drooped away from his. "Didn t you tell me that a writer should be in love in order to be able to write of it?" she asked, her face averted. "Yes." He was trembling a little and leaning toward her. In this position he caught her low reply. "I think my love story will be real," she returned. "I have learned " But what ever she might have wanted to add was smothered when his arms closed tightly about her. A little later she drew a deep breath and looked up at him with moist, eloquent eyes. 261 THE TWO-GUN MAN "Perhaps I shall have to change the story a little," she said. He drew her head to his shoulder, one hand caressing her hair. "If you do," he said smiling, "don t have the hero thinkin that the girl is makin a fool of him." He drew her close. "That cert nly was a mighty bad minute you give me," he added. 362 CHAPTER XVIII THE DIM TRAIL. A SHADOW fell upon the rock. Ferguson turned his head and looked toward the west, where the sun had already descended over the moun tains. "Why it s sundown!" he said, smiling into Miss Radford s eyes. "I reckon the days must be gettin shorter." "The happy days are always short," she returned, blushing. He kissed her for this. For a while they sat, watching together the vari -colors swimming in the sky. They sat close together, saying little, for mere words are sometimes inadequate. In a little time the colors faded, the mountain peaks began to throw sombre shades; twilight THE TWO-GUN MAN gray and cold settled suddenly into the flat. Then Miss Radford raised her head from Ferguson s shoulder and sighed. "Time to go home," she said. "Yes, time," he returned. "I m ridin down that far with you." They rose and clambered down the hill side and he helped her into the saddle. Then he mounted Mustard and rode across the flat beside her. Darkness had fallen when they rode through the clearing near the cabin and dis mounted from their ponies at the door. The light from the kerosene lamp shone in a dim stream from the kitchen door and within they saw dishes on the table with cold food. Ferguson stood beside his pony while Miss Radford went in and explored the cabin. She came to the door presently, shading her eyes to look out into the darkness. "Ben has been here and gone," she said. "He can t be very far away. Won t you come in?" He laughed. "I don t think I ll come in," he returned. "This lover business is new to 26 i THE DIM TRAIL me, an I wouldn t want Ben to come back an ketch me blushin an takin on." "But he has to know," she insisted, laugh ing. "Sure," he said, secure in the darkness, "but you tell him." "I won t!" she declared positively, stamp ing a foot. "Then I reckon he won t get told," he re turned quietly. "Well, then," she said, laughing, "I sup pose that is settled." She came out to the edge of the porch, away from the door, where the stream of light from within could not search them out, and there they took leave of one another, she going back into the cabin and he mount ing Mustard and riding away in the dark ness. He was in high spirits, for he had much to be thankful for. As he rode through the darkness, skirting the cottonwood in the flat, he allowed his thoughts to wander. His re fusal to enter the cabin had not been a mere whim; he intended on the morrow to seek Mi THE TWO-GUN MAN out Ben and tell him. He had not wanted to tell him with her looking on to make the situation embarrassing for him. When he thought of how she had fooled him by making it appear that she had led him on for the purpose of getting material for her love story, he was moved to silent mirth. "But I cert nly didn t see anything funny in it while she was puttin it on," he told himself, as he rode. He had not ridden more than a quarter of a mile from the cabin, and was passing a clump of heavy shrubbery, when a man rose suddenly out of the shadows beside the trail. Startled, Mustard reared, and then seeing that the apparition was merely a man, he came quietly down and halted, shaking his head sagely. Ferguson s right hand had dropped swiftly to his right holster, but was raised again instantly as the man s voice came cold and steady: "Get your hands up quick I" Ferguson s hands were raised, but he gave no evidence of fear or excitement. Instead, he leaned forward, trying, in the dim light, 266 THE DIM TRAIL to see the man s face. The latter still stood in the shadows. But now he advanced a little toward Ferguson, and the stray-man caught his breath sharply. But when he spoke his voice was steady. "Why, it s Ben Radford," he said. "That s just who it is," returned Radford. "I ve been waitin for you." "That s right clever of you," returned Ferguson, drawling his words a little. He was puzzled over this unusual occurrence, but his face did not betray this. "You was wantin to see me then," he added. "You re keen," returned Radford, sneer ing slightly. Ferguson s face reddened. "I ain t no damn fool," he said sharply. "An I don t like holdin my hands up like this. I reckon whatever you re goin to do you ought to do right quick." "I m figuring to be quick," returned Rad- lord shortly. "Ketch hold of your guns with the tips of oae finger and one thumb and drop them. Don t hit any rocks and don t try any monkey business." 267 THE TWO-GUN MAN He waited until Ferguson had dropped one gun. And then, knowing that the stray- man usually wore two weapons, he continued sharply: "I m waiting for the other one." Ferguson laughed. "Then you ll be waitin a long time. There ain t any other one/ Broke a spring yesterday an sent it over to Cimarron to get it fixed up. You c n have it when it comes back," he added with a touch of sarcasm, "if you re carin to Wait that long." Radford did not reply, but came around to Ferguson s left side and peered at the holster. It was empty. Then he looked carefully at the stray-man s waist for signs that a weapon might have been concealed between the waist-band and the trousers in front. Then, apparently satisfied, he stepped back, his lips closed grimly. "Get off your horse," he ordered. Ferguson laughed as he swung down. "Anything to oblige a friend," he said, mock ingly. The two men were now not over a yard apart, and at Ferguson s word Radford s 268 THE DIM TRAIL face became inflamed with wrath. "I don t think I m a friend of yours," he sneered coldly; "I ain t making friends with every damned sneak that crawls around the country, aiming to shoot a man in the back." He raised his voice, bitter with sarcasm. "You re thinking that you re pretty slick," he said; "that all you have to do in this country is to hang around till you get a man where you want him and then bore him. But you ve got to the end of your rope. You ain t going to shoot anyone around here. "I m giving you a chance to say what you ve got to say and then I m going to fill you full of lead and plant you over in the cottonwood in a place where no one will ever be able to find you not even Stafford. I d have shot you off your horse when you come around the bend," he continued cold ly, "but I wanted you to know who was do ing it and that the man that did it knowed what you come here to do." He poised his pistol menacingly. "You got anything to say?" he inquired. Ferguson looked steadily from the muzzle 269 THE TWO-GUN MAN of the poised weapon to Radf ord s frowning eyes. Then he smiled grimly. "Some one s been talkin ," he said evenly. He calmly crossed his arms over his chest, the right hand slipping carelessly under the left side of his vest. Then he rocked slowly back and forth on his heels and toes. "Some one s been tellin you a pack of lies," he added. "I reckon you ve wondered, if I was goin to shoot you in the back, that I ain t done it long ago. You re admittin that I ve had some chance." Radf or d sneered. "I ain t wondering why you ain t done it before," he said. "Mebbe it was because you re too white livered. Mebbe you thought you didn t see your chance. I ain t worrying none about why you didn t do it. But you ain t going to get another chance." The weapon came to a foreboding level. Ferguson laughed grimly, but there was an ironic quality in his voice that caught Radford s ear. It seemed to Radford that the stray-man knew that he was near death, and yet some particular phase of the situa- 270 THE DIM TRAIL tion appealed to his humor grim though it was. It came out when the stray-man spoke. "You ve been gassin just now about shootin people in the back sayin that I ve been thinkin of doin it. But I reckon you ain t thought a lot about the way you re in- tendin to put me out of business. I was wonderin if it made any difference shoot- in a man in the back or shootin him when he ain t got any guns. I expect a man that s shot when he ain t got guns would be just as dead as a man that s shot in the back, wouldn t he?" He laughed again, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "That s the reason I ain t scared a heap," he said. "From what I know about you you ain t the man to shoot another without givin him a chance. An you re givin me a chance to talk. I ain t goin to do any prayin . I reckon that s right?" Radford shifted his feet uneasily. He could not have told at that moment whether or not he had intended to murder Ferguson. 271 THE TWO-GUN MAN He had waylaid him with that intention, utterly forgetful that by shooting the stray- man he would be committing the very crime which he had accused Ferguson of contem plating. The muzzle of his weapon drooped uncertainly. "Talk quick!" he said shortly. Ferguson grinned. "I m takin my time," he returned. "There ain t any use of bein in such an awful hurry time don t amount to much when a man s talkin for his life. I ain t askin who told you what you ve said about me I ve got a pretty clear idea who it was. I ve had to tell a man pretty plain that my age has got its growth an I don t think that man is admirin me much for bein told. But if he s wantin to have me put out of business he s goin to do the job him selfBen Radford ain t doin it." * While he had been talking he had con trived to throw the left side of his vest open, and his right hand was exposed in the dim light a heavy six-shooter gleaming fore bodingly in it. His arms were still crossed, but as he talked he had turned a very little THE DIM TRAIL and now the muzzle of the weapon was at a level trained fairly upon Radf ord s breast. And then came Ferguson s voice again, quiet, cold, incisive. "If there s goin to be any shootin , Ben, there ll be two of us doin it. Don t be afraid that you ll beat me to it. * And he stared grimly over the short space that separated them. For a full minute neither man moved a muscle. Silence a premonitory silence fell over them as they stood, each with a steady finger dragging uncertainly upon the trigger of his weapon. An owl hooted in the cottonwood nearby ; other noises of the night reached their ears. Unaware of this crisis Mustard grazed unconcernedly at a dis tance. Then Radford s weapon wavered a little and dropped to his side. "This game s too certain," he said. Ferguson laughed, and his six-shooter dis appeared as mysteriously as it had ap peared. "I thought I d be able to make you see the point," he said. "It don t always 273 THE TWO-GUN MAN I^^HHBH^BHHHHHMiHBH^BH^^^HHMaMMH^HHHHMHBHMBHMHttflHNBt pay to be in too much of a hurry to do a thing," he continued gravely. "An I reckon I ve proved that someone s been lying about me. If I d wanted to shoot you I could have done it quite a spell ago I had you covered just as soon as I crossed my arms. ,You d never knowed about it. That I didn t shoot proves that whoever told you I was after you has been romancin ." He laughed. "An now I m tellin you another thing that I was goin to tell you about to-morrow. Mebbe you ll want to shoot me for that. But if you do I expect you ll have a woman to fight. Me an Mary has found that we re of one mind about a thing. We re goin to hook up into a double harness. I reckon when I m your brother-in-law you won t be so worried about shootin me." Bradford s astonishment showed for a moment in his eyes as his gaze met the stray- man s. Then they drooped guiltily. "Well I m a damn fool!" he said finally. "I might have knowed that Mary wouldn t get afoul of any man who was thinkin of 274 THE DIM TRAIL doing dirt to me." He suddenly extended a hand. "You shakin ?" he said. Ferguson took the hand, gripping it tight ly. Neither man spoke. Then Radford suddenly unclasped his hand and turned, striding rapidly up the trail toward the cabin. For a moment Ferguson stood, looking after him with narrowed, friendly eyes. Then he walked to Mustard, threw the bridle rein - over the pommel of the saddle, mounted, and was off at a rapid lope to ward the Two Diamond. 275 CHAPTER XIX THE SHOT IN THE DARK NOW that Mary Radf ord had obtained experience for the love scene in her story it might be expected that on returning to the cabin she would get out her writing materials and attempt to transcribe the emotions that had beset her during the afternoon, but she did nothing of the kind. After Ferguson s departure she removed her riding garments, walked several times around the interior of the cabin, and for a long time studied her face in the looking glass. Yes, she discovered the happiness shining out of the glass. Several times, standing before the glass, she attempted to keep the lines of her face in repose, and though she almost succeeded in doing this she could not control her eyes tiiey simply; 276 THE SHOT IN THE DARK would gleam with the light that seemed to say to her: "You may deceive people by making a mask of your face, but the eyes are the windows of the soul and through them people will see your secret." Ben hadn t eaten much, she decided, as she seated herself at the table, after pouring a cup of tea. Before she had finished her meal she had begun to wonder over his ab sence it was not his custom to go away in the night. She thought he might have gone to the corral, or might even be engaged in some small task in the stable. So after com pleting her meal she rose and went to the door, looking out. There was no moon, only the starlight, but in this she was able to distinguish objects in the clearing, and if Ben had been work ing about anywhere she must have noticed him. She returned to the table and sat there long, pondering. Then she rose, heated some water, and washed and dried the dishes. Then she swept the kitchen floor and tidied things up a bit, returning to the door when all was complete. 77 THE TWO-GUN MAN Still no signs that Ben was anywhere in the vicinity. She opened the screen door and went out upon the porch, leaning against one of the slender posts. For a long time she stood thus, listening to the in describable noises of the night. This was only the second time since she had been with Ben that he had left her alone at night, and a slight chill stole over her as she watched the dense shadows beyond the clearing, shadows that seemed suddenly dismal and foreboding. She had loved the silence, but now suddenly it too seemed too deep, too solemn to be real. She shuddered, and with some unaccountable impulse shrank back against the screen door, one hand upon it, ready to throw it open. In this position she stood for a few minutes, and then from somewhere in the flat came a slight sound and then, after a short interval, another. She shrank back again, a sudden fear chilling her, her hands clasped over her breast. "Someone is shooting," she said aloud. She waited long for a repetition of the 878 THE SHOT IN THE DARK sounds. But she did not hear them again. Tremblingly she returned to the cabin and resumed her chair at the table, fighting against a growing presentiment that some thing had gone wrong with Ben. But she could not have told from what direction the sounds had come, and so it would have been folly for her to ride out to investigate. And so for an hour she sat at the table, cringing away from the silence, starting at intervals, when her imagination tricked her into the belief that sound had begun. And then presently she became aware that there was sound. In the vast silence beyond the cabin door something had moved. She was on her feet instantly, her senses alert. Her fear had left her. Her face was pale, but her lips closed grimly as she went to the rack behind the door and took down a rifle that Ben always kept there. Then she turned the lamp low and cautiously stepped to the door. A pony whinnied, standing with ears erect at the edge of the porch. In a crumpled heap on the ground lay a man. She caught 379 THE TWO-GUN MAN her breath sharply, but in the next instant was out and bending over him. With a strength that seemed almost beyond her shte ! dragged the limp form to the door where ! the light from the lamp shone upon it. "Ben!" she said sharply. "What has happened?" She shook him slightly, calling again to him. Aroused, he opened his eyes, recognized her, and raised himself painfully upon one elbow, smiling weakly. "It ain t anything, sis," he said. "Creased in the back of the head. Knocked me cold. Mebbe my shoulder too I ain t been able to lift my arm." He smiled again grimly, though wearily. "From the back too. The damned sneak!" Her eyes filled vengefully, and she leaned closer to him, her voice tense. "Who, Ben? Who did it?" "Ferguson," he said sharply. And again, as his eyes closed: "The damned sneak." She swayed dizzily and came very near dropping him to the porch floor. But no sound came from her, and presently when 280 THE SHOT IN THE DARK the dizziness had passed, she dragged him to the door, propped it open with a chair, and then dragged him on through the opening to the kitchen, and from there to one of the adjoining rooms. Then with pale face and determined lips she set about the work of taking care of Ben s wounds. The spot on the back of the head, she found, was a mere abrasion, as he had said. But his shoulder had been shattered, the bullet, she dis covered, having passed clear through the fleshy part of the shoulder, after breaking one of the smaller bones. Getting her scissors she clipped away the hair from the back of his head and sponged the wound and bandaged it, convinced that of itself it was not dangerous. Then she un dressed him, and by the use of plenty of clear, cold water, a sponge, and some bandages, stopped the flow of blood in his shoulder and placed him in a comfortable position. He had very little fever, but she moved rapidly around him, taking his temperature, administering sedatives when he showed signs of restlessness, hovering 281 THE TWO-GUN MAN over him constantly until the dawn began to come. Soon after this he went off into a peaceful sleep, and, almost exhausted with her efforts and the excitement, she threw herself upon the floor beside his bed, sacrificing her own comfort that she might be near to watch should he need her. It was late in the after noon when Radford opened his eyes to look out through the door that connected his room with the kitchen and saw his sister busying herself with the dishes. His mind was clear and he suffered very little pain. For a long time he lay, quietly watching her, while his thoughts went back to the meeting on the trail with Ferguson. Why hadn t he carried out his original intention of shooting the stray-man down from ambush? He had doubted Leviatt s word and had hesitated, wishing to give Ferguson the benefit of the doubt, and had received his reward in the shape of a bullet in the back after practi cally making a peace pact with his intended victim. He presently became aware that his sister 8* THE SHOT IN THE DARK was standing near him, and he looked up and smiled at her. Then in an instant she was kneeling beside him, admonishing him to quietness, smoothing his forehead, giving delighted little gasps over his improved con dition. But in spite of her evident cheerful ness there was a suggestion of trouble swimming deep in her eyes; he could not help but see that she was making a brave attempt to hide her bitter disappointment over the turn things had taken. Therefore he was not surprised when, after she had attended to all his wants, she sank on her knees beside him. "Ben," she said, trying to keep a quiver out of her voice, "are you sure it was Fer guson who shot you?" He patted her hand tenderly and sympathetically with his uninjured one. "I m sorry for you, Mary," he returned, "but there ain t any doubt about it." Then he told her of the warning he had received from Leviatt, and when he saw her lips curl at the mention of the Two Diamond range boss s name he smiled. *8S THE TWO-GUN MAN "I thought the same thing that you are thinking, Mary," he said. "And I didn t want to shoot Ferguson. But as things have turned out I wouldn t have been much wrong to have done iK" She raised her head from the coverlet. "Did you see him before he shot you?" she (questioned eagerly. "Just a little before," he returned. "I met him at a turn in the trail about half a mile from here. I made him get down off his horse and drop his guns. We had a talk, for I didn t want to shoot him until I was sure, and he talked so clever that I thought he was telling the truth. But he wasn t." He told her about Ferguson s concealed pistol; how they had stood face to face with death between them, concluding: "By that time I had decided not to shoot him. But he didn t have the nerve to pull the trigger when he was looking at me. He waited until I d got on my horse and was riding away. Then he sneaked up behind." He saw her body shiver, and he caressed her hair slowly, telling her that he was sorry 284 THE SHOT IN THE DARK things had turned out so, and promising her that when he recovered he would bring the Two Diamond stray-man to a strict account ing providing the latter didn t leave the country before. But he saw that his words had given her little comfort, for when an hour or so later he dropped off to sleep the last thing he saw was her seated at the table in the kitchen, her head bowed in her hands, crying softly. "Poor little kid," he said, as sleep dimmed his eyes; "it looks as though this would be the end of her story." 385 CHAPTER XX LOVE AND A EIFLE FERGUSON did not visit Miss Rad- f ord the next morning he had seen Leviatt and Tucson depart from the ranchhouse, had observed the direction they took, and had followed them. For twenty miles he had kept them in sight, watching them with a stern patience that had brought its reward. They had ridden twenty miles straight down the river, when Ferguson, concealed behind a ridge, saw them suddenly disappear into a little basin. Then he rode around the ridge, circled the rim of hills that surrounded the basin, and dismounting from his pony, crept through a scrub oak thicket to a point where he could look directly down upon them. 286 LOVE AND A RIFLE He was surprised into a subdued whistle. Below him in the basin was an adobe hut. He had been through this section of the country several times but had never before stumbled upon the hut. This was not re markable, for situated as it was, in this little basin, hidden from sight by a serried line of hills and ridges among which no cow- puncher thought to travel nor cared to , the cabin was as safe from prying eyes as it was possible for a human habitation to be. There was a small corral near the cabin, in which there were several steers, half a dozen cows, and perhaps twenty calves. As Ferguson s eyes took in the latter detail, they glittered with triumph. Not even the wildest stretch of the imagination could pro duce twenty calves from half a dozen cows. But Ferguson did not need this evidence to convince him that the men who occupied the cabin were rustlers. Honest men did not find it necessary to live in a basin in the hills where they were shut in from sight of the open country. Cattle thieves did not al ways find it necessary to do so unless they; 287 THE TWO-GUN MAN were men like these, who had no herds of their own among which to conceal their ill- gotten beasts. He was convinced that these men were migratory thieves, who operated upon the herds nearest them, remained until they had accumulated a considerable number of cattle, and then drove the entire lot to some favored friend who was not averse to running the risk of detection if through that risk he came into possession of easily earned money. There were two of the men, beside Leviatt and Tucson tall, rangy looking their part. Ferguson watched them for half an hour, and then, convinced that he would gain nothing more by remaining there, he stealthily backed down the hillside to where his pony stood, mounted, and rode toward the river. Late in the afternoon he entered Bear Flat, urged his pony at a brisk pace across it, and just before sundown drew rein in front of the Radf ord cabin. He dismounted and stepped to the edge of the porch, a smile of anticipation on his lips. The noise of his 88 LOVE AND A RIFLE arrival brought Mary Radford to the door. She came out upon the porch, and he saw that her face was pale and her lips firmly set. Apparently something had gone amiss with her and he halted, looking at her ques- tioningly. "What s up?" he asked. "You ought to know," she returned quietly. "I ain t good at guessin riddles," he re turned, grinning at her. "There is no riddle," she answered, still quietly. She came forward until she stood within two paces of him, her eyes meeting his squarely. "When you left here last night did you meet Ben on the trail?" she con tinued steadily. He started, reddening a little. "Why, yes," he returned, wondering if Ben had told her what had been said at that meeting ; "was he tellin you about it?" "Yes," she returned evenly, "he has been telling me about it. That should be suffi cient for you. I am sorry that I ever met you. You should know why. If I were you 289 THE TWO-GUN MAN I should not lose any time in getting away; from here." Her voice was listless, even flat, but there i was a grim note in it that told that she was keeping her composure with difficulty. He laughed, thinking that since he had made the new agreement with the Two Diamond manager he had nothing to fear. "I reckon I ought to be scared," he returned, "but I ain t. An I don t consider that I m losin any time." Her lips curved sarcastically. "You have said something like that before," she told him, her eyes glittering scornfully. "You have a great deal of faith in your ability to fool people. But you have miscalculated this time. "I know why you have come to the Two Diamond. I know what made you come over here so much. Of course I am partly to blame. You have fooled me as you have fooled everyone." She stood suddenly erect, her eyes flashing. "If you planned to kill my brother, why did you not have the man hood to meet him face to face?" 290 LOVE AND A RIFLE Ferguson flushed. Would it help his case to deny that he had thought of fooling her, that he never had any intention of shooting Ben? He thought not. Leviatt had poisoned her mind against him. He smiled grimly. "Someone s been talkin ," he said quietly. "You d be helpin to make this case clear if you d tell who it was." "Someone has talked," she replied; "some one who knows. Why didn t you tell me that you came here to kill Ben? That you were hired by Stafford to do it?" "Why, I didn t, ma am," he protested, his face paling. "You did!" She stamped one foot vehemently. Ferguson s eyes drooped. "I came here to see if Ben was rustlin cattle, ma am," he confessed frankly. "But I wasn t intendin to shoot him. Why, I ve had lots of chances, an I didn t do it. Ain t that proof enough?" "No," she returned, her voice thrilling jmth a sudden, bitter irony, "you didn t shoot 291 THE TWO-GUN MAN him. That is, you didn t shoot him while he was looking at you when there was a chance that he might have given you as good as you sent. No, you didn t shoot him then you waited until his back was turned. You you coward!" Ferguson s lips whitened. "You re talk- in extravagant, ma am," he said coldly. "Somethin is all mixed up. Has someone been shootin Ben?" She sneered, pinning him with a scornful, withering glance. "I expected that you would deny it," she returned. "That would be following out your policy of deception." He leaned forward, his eyes wide with surprise. If she had not been laboring un der the excitement of the incident she might have seen that his surprise was genuine, but she was certain that it was mere craftiness a craftiness that she had hitherto admired, but which now awakened a fierce anger in her heart. "When was he shot?" he questioned quiet- ly. "Last night," she answered scornfully. 292 LOVE AND A RIFLE "Of course that is a surprise to you too. An hour after you left he rode up to the cabin and fell from his horse at the edge of the porch. He had been shot twice both times in the back." She laughed almost hysteri cally. "Oh, you knew enough not to take chances with him in spite of your bragging in spite of the reputation you have of be ing a two-gun man!" He winced under her words, his face whitening, his lips twitching, his hands clenched that he might not lose his com posure. But in spite of the conflict that was going on within him at the moment he man aged to keep his voice quiet and even. It was admirable acting, she thought, her eyes burning with passion despicable, con temptible acting. "I reckon I ain t the snake you think I um, ma am," he said, looking steadily at her. " But I m admittin that mebbe you ve got cause to think so. When I left Ben last night I shook hands with him, after fixin up the difference we d had. Why, ma am," he went on earnestly, "I d just got through 293 THE TWO-GUN MAN tellin him about you an me figgerin to get hooked up. An do you think I d shoot him after that? Why, if I d been wantin to shoot him I reckon there was nothin to stop me while he was standin there. He d never knowed what struck him. I m tellin you that I didn t know he was shot; that " She made a gesture of impatience. "I don t think I care to hear any more," she said. "I heard the shots here on the porch. I suppose you were so far away at that time that you couldn t hear them?" He writhed again under the scorn in her voice. But he spoke again, earnestly. "I did hear some shootin ," he said, "after I d gone on a ways. But I reckoned it was Ben." "What do you suppose he would be shoot ing at at that time of the night?" she de manded. "Why, I don t remember that I was doin 3 a heap of wonderin at that time about it," he returned hesitatingly. "Mebbe I thought he was shootin at a sage-hen, or a prairie- 294 LOVE AND A RIFLE dog or somethin . I ve often took a shot at somethin like that when I ve been alone that way." He took a step toward her, his whole lithe body alive and tingling with earnestness. "Why, ma am, there s a big mistake somewheres. If I could talk to Ben I m sure I could explain " She drew her skirts close and stepped back toward the door. "There is nothing to explain now," she said coldly. "Ben is doing nicely, and when he has fully re covered you will have a chance to explain to him if you are not afraid." "Afraid?" he laughed grimly. "I expect, ma am, that things look pretty bad for me. They always do when someone s tryin to make em. I reckon there ain t any use of tryin to straighten it out now you won t listen. But I m tellin you this: When everything comes out you ll see that I didn t shoot your brother." "Of course not," sneered the girl. "You did not shoot him. Stafford did not hire you to do it. You didn t come here, pre tending that you had been bitten by a 295 THE TWO-GUN MAN ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^i rattler, so that you might have a chance to worm yourself into my brother s favor and then shoot him. You haven t been hanging around Bear Flat all summer, pre tending to look for stray Two Diamond cattle. You haven t been trying to make a fool of me " Her voice trembled and her lips quivered suspiciously. "Well, now," said Ferguson, deeply moved; "I m awful sorry you re lookin at things like you are. But I wasn t thinkin to try an make a fool of you. Things that I said to you I meant. I wouldn t say things to a girl that I said to you if " She had suddenly stepped into the cabin and as suddenly reappeared holding the rifle that was kept always behind the door. She stood rigid on the porch, her eyes blazing through the moisture in them. "You go now!" she commanded hotly; "I ve heard enough of your lies ! Get away from this cabin! If I ever see you around here again I won t wait for Ben to shoot you!" Ferguson hesitated, a deep red mounting 296 AND A RIFLE over the scarf at his throat. Then his voice rose, tingling with regret. "There ain t any use of me sayin anything now, ma am," he said. "You wouldn t listen. I m goin away, of course, because you want me to. You didn t need to get that gun if you wanted to hurt me what you ve said would have been enough." He bowed to her, not even looking at the rifle. "I m goin now," he concluded. "But I m comin back. You ll know then whether I m the sneak you ve said I was." He bowed again over the pony s mane and urged the animal around the corner of the cabin, striking the trail that led through the flat toward the Two Diamond ranchhouse. 297 CHAPTER XXI THE PROMISE FERGUSON heard loud talking and laughter in the bunkhouse when he passed there an hour after his de parture from the Radford cabin in Bear Flat. It was near sundown and the boys were eating supper. Ferguson smiled grim ly as he rode his pony to the corral gate, dis mounted, pulled off the bridle and saddle, and turned the animal into the corral. The presence of the boys at the bunkhouse meant that the wagon outfit had come in meant that Leviatt would have to come in if he had not already done so. The stray-man s movements were very de liberate ; there was an absence of superfluous energy that told of intensity of thought and THE PROMISE singleness of purpose. He shouldered the saddle with a single movement, walked with it to the lean-to, threw it upon its accus tomed peg, hung the bridle from the pom mel, and then turned and for a brief time listened to the talk and laughter that issued from the open door and windows of the bunkhouse. With a sweep of his hands he drew his two guns from their holsters, rolled the cylinders and examined them minutely. Then he replaced the guns, hitched at his cartridge belt, and stepped out of the door of the lean-to. In spite of his promise to Mary Radford to the effect that he would return to prove to her that he was not the man who had at tempted to kill her brother he had no hope of discovering the guilty man. His sus picions, of course, centered upon Leviatt, but he knew that under the circumstances Mary Radford would have to be given con vincing proof. The attempted murder of her brother, following the disclosure that he had been hired by Stafford to do the deed, must have seemed to her sufficient evidence 299 THE TWO-GUN MAN of his guilt. He did not blame her for feel ing bitter toward him ; she had done the only thing natural under the circumstances. He had been very close to the garden of happi ness just close enough to scent its promise of fulfilled joy, when the gates had been violently closed in his face, to leave him standing without, contemplating the ragged path over which he must return to the old life. He knew that Leviatt had been the instru ment that had caused the gates to close; he knew that it had been he who had dropped the word that had caused the finger of ac-* cusation to point to him. "Stafford didn t hire you to do it," Mary Radford had said, ironically. The words rang in his ears still. Who had told her that Stafford had hired him to shoot Radford? Surely not Stafford. He himself had not hinted at the reason of his presence at the Two Diamond. And there was only one other man who knew. That man was Leviatt. As he stood beside the door of the lean-to the rage in his heart against the range boss grew more bitter, and 300 THE PROMISE the lines around his mouth straightened more grimly. A few minutes later he stalked into the bunkhouse, among the men who, after finish ing their meal, were lounging about, their small talk filling the room. The talk died away as he entered, the men adroitly gave him room, for there was something in the ex pression of his eyes, in the steely, boring glances that he cast about him, that told these men, inured to danger though they were, that the stray-man was in no gentle mood. He dropped a short word to the one among them that he knew best, at which they all straightened, for through the word they knew that he was looking for Leviatt. But they knew nothing of Leviatt be yond the fact that he and Tucson had not accompanied the wagon to the home ranch. They inferred that the range boss and Tucson had gone about some business con nected wi*h the cattle. Therefore Ferguson did not s^j)p long in the bunkhouse. With out a vovi he was gone, striding rapidly to ward th ranchhouse. They looked after 301 ., THE TWO-GUN MAN him, saying nothing, but aware that his quest for Leviatt was not without significance. Five minute^ later he was in Stafford s office. The latter had been worrying about him. When Ferguson entered the man ager s manner was a trifle anxious. "You seen anything of Radford yet?" he inquired. "I ain t got anything on Radford," was the short reply. His tone angered the manager. "I ain t askin if you ve got anything on him," he returned. "But we missed more cattle yesterday, an it looks mighty suspicious. Since we had that talk about Radford, when you told me it wasn t him doin the rustlin* I ve changed my mind a heap. I m thinkin he rustled them cattle last night." Ferguson looked quizzically at him. "How many cattle you missin ?" he questioned. Stafford banged a fist heavily down upon his desk top. "We re twenty calves short on the tally," he declared, "an half a dozen cows. We ain t got to the steers yet, but I m expectin to find them short too." 302 THE PROMISE Ferguson drew a deep breath. The num ber of cattle missing tallied exactly with the number he had seen in the basin down the river. A glint of triumph lighted his eyes, but he looked down upon Stafford, drawl ing: "You been doin the tallyin ?" "Yes." Ferguson was now smiling grimly. "Where s your range boss?" he questioned. "The boys say he rode over to the river lookin for strays. Sent word that he d be in to-morrow. But I don t see what he s got to do- "No," returned Ferguson, "of course. You say them cattle was rustled last night? * "Yes." Stafford banged his fist down with a positiveness that left no doubt of his knowledge. "Well, now," observed Ferguson, "an so you re certain Radford rustled them." He smiled again saturninely. "I ain t sayin for certain," returned Staf ford, puzzled by Ferguson s manner. "What I m gettin at is that there ain t no one 303 THE TWO-GUN MAN around here that d rustle them except Rad- ford." "There ain t no other nester around here that you know of?" questioned Ferguson. "No. Radford s the only one." Ferguson lingered a moment. Then he talked slowly to the door. "I reckon that s all," he said. "To-morrow I m gain to show you your rustler." He had stepped out of the door and was gone into the gathering dusk before Stafford could ask the question that was on the end of his tongue. 804 CHAPTER XXII KEEPING A PROMISE FERGUSON S dreams had been troubled. Long before dawn he was awake and outside the bunkhouse, splashing water over his face from the tin wash basin that stood on the bench just out side the door. Before breakfast he had saddled and bridled Mustard, and directly after the meal he was in the saddle, riding slowly toward the river. Before very long he was riding through Bear Flat, and after a time he came to the hill where only two short days before he had reveled in the supreme happiness that had followed months of hope and doubt. It did not seem as though it had been only two days. It seemed that time was playing him 305 THE TWO-GUN MAN a trick. Yet he knew that to-day was like yesterday each day like its predecessor that if the hours dragged it was because in the bitterness of his soul he realized that to day could not be for him like the day before yesterday; and that succeeding days gave no promise of restoring to him the happiness that he had lost. He saw the sun rising above the rim of hills that surrounded the flat; he climbed to the rock upon which he had sat with her watching the shadows retreat to the moun tains, watching the sun stream down into the clearing and upon the Radford cabin. But there was no longer beauty in the picture for him. Hereafter he would return to that life that he had led of old; the old hard life that he had known before his brief romance had given him a fleeting glimpse of what might have been. Many times, when his hopes had been high, he had felt a chilling fear that he would never be able to reach the pinnacle of prom ise; that in the end fate would place before him a barrier the barrier in the shape of 306 KEEPING r A PROMISE his contract with Stafford, that he had re gretted many times. Mary Radford would never believe his protest that he had not been hired to kill her brother. Fate, in the shape of Leviatt, had forestalled him there. Many times, when she had questioned him regarding the hero in her story, he had been on the point of tak ing her into his confidence as to the reason of his presence at the Two Diamond, but he had always put it off, hoping that things would be righted in the end and that he would be able to prove to her the honesty of his intentions. But now that time was past. Whatever happened now she would believe him the creature that she despised that all men de spised ; the man who strikes in the dark. This, then, was to be the end. He could not say that he had been entirely blameless. He should have told her. But it was not the end that he was now contemplating. There could be no end until there had been an ac counting between him and Leviatt. Per haps the men who had shot Ben Radford in 307 THE TJTO-GUX 31 AX the back would never be known. He had his suspicions, but they availed nothing. In the light of present circumstances Miss Radford ! would never hold him guiltless. Until near noon he sat on the rock on the crest of the hill, the lines of his face growing more grim, his anger slowly giving way to the satisfying calmness that comes when the mind has reached a conclusion. There would be a final scene with Leviatt, and then He rose from the rock, made his way de liberately down the hillside, mounted his pony, and struck the trail leading to the Two Diamond ranchhouse. About noon Leviatt and Tucson rode in to the Two Diamond corral gate, dismounted from their ponies, and proceeded to the bunkhouse for dinner. The men of the out fit were already at the table, and after wash ing their faces from the tin wash basin on the bench outside the door, Leviatt and Tucson entered the bunkhouse and took their places. Greetings were given and re turned through the medium of short nods - 308 KEEPIXG A PROMISE with several of the men even this was omitted. Leviatt was not a popular range boss, and there were some of the men who had whispered their suspicions that the death of Rope Jones had not been brought about in the regular way. Many of them remem bered the incident that had occurred between Rope, the range boss, Tucson, and the new stray-man, and though opinions differed, there were some who held that the death of Rope might have resulted from the ill-feel ing engendered by the incident. But in the absence of proof there was nothing to be done. So those men who held suspicions wisely refrained from talking in public. Before the meal was finished the black smith poked his head in through the open doorway, calling: "OF Man wants to see Leviatt up in the office!" The blacksmith s head was withdrawn be fore Leviatt. who had heard the voice but had not seen the speaker, could raise his voice in reply. He did not hasten, however, and remained at the table with Tucson for five minutes after the other men had left. Then, 309 I I THE TWO-GUN MAN with a final word to Tucson, he rose and strode carelessly to the door of Stafford s office. The latter had been waiting with some impatience, and at the appearance of the range boss he shoved his chair back from his desk and arose. "Just come in?" he questioned. "Just come in," repeated Leviatt drawl ing. "Plum starved. Had to eat before I came down here." He entered and dropped lazily into a chair near the desk, stretching his legs com fortably. He had observed in Stafford s manner certain signs of a subdued excite ment, and while he affected not to notice this, there was a glint of feline humor in his eyes. "Somebody said you wanted me," he said. "Anything doin ?" Stafford had held in as long as he could. Now he exploded. "What in hell do you suppose I sent for you for?" he demanded, as, walking to and fro in the room, he paused and glared down at the range boss. "Where you been? We re 310 KEEPING A PROMISE twenty calves an a dozen cows short on the tally!" Leviatt looked up, his eyes suddenly flash ing. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "They re hittin them pretty heavy lately. When was they missed?" Stafford spluttered impotently. "Night before last," he flared. "An not a damned sign of where they went!" Leviatt grinned coldly. "Them rustlers is gettin to be pretty slick, ain t they?" he drawled. Stafford s face swelled with a rage that threatened to bring on apoplexy. He brought a tense fist heavily down upon his desk top. "Slick!" he sneered. "I don t reckon they re any slick. It s that I ve got a no good outfit. There ain t a man in the bunch could see a rustler if he d hobbled a cow and was runnin her calf off before their eyes!" He hesitated to gain breath before continu ing. "What have I got an outfit for? What have I got a range boss for? What have I got 1" 811 THE TWO-GUN MAN Leviatt grinned wickedly and Stafford hesitated, his hand upraised. "Your stray-man doin anything these days?" questioned Leviatt significantly. "Because if he is," resumed Leviatt, before the manager could reply, "he ought to man age to be around where them thieves are workin ." Stafford stiffened. He had developed a liking for the stray-man and he caught a note of venom in Leviatt s voice. "I reckon the stray-man knows what he s doin ," he replied. He returned to his chair beside the desk and sat in it, facing Leviatt, and speaking with heavy sarcasm. "The stray-man s the only one of the whole bunch that s doin anything," he said. "Sure," sneered Leviatt ; "he s gettin paid for sparkin Mary Radford." "Mebbe he is," returned Stafford. "I don t know as I d blame him any for that. But he s been doin somethin else now an* then, too." "Findin the man that s been rustlin your stock, for instance," mocked Leviatt. 312 KEEPING A PROMISE Stafford leaned back in his chair, frown ing. "Look here, Leviatt," he said steadily. "I might have spoke a little strong to you about them missin cattle. But I reckon you re partly to blame. If you d been minded to help Ferguson a little, instead of actin like a fool because you ve thought Jhe s took a shine to Mary Radford, we might have been further along with them rustlers. As it is, Ferguson s been playin a lone hand. But he claims to have been doin* somethin . He ain t been in the habit of blowin his own horn, an I reckon we can rely on what he says. I m want in you to keep the boys together this afternoon, for we might need them to help Ferguson out. lie s promised to ride in to-day an show me the man who s been rustlin my cattle." Leviatt s lips slowly straightened. He sat more erect, and when he spoke the mockery had entirely gone from his voice and from his manner. "He s goin to do what?" he questioned coldly. 313 THE TWO-GUN MAN "Show me the man who s been rustlin my cattle," repeated Stafford. For a brief space neither man spoke nor moved. Stafford s face wore the smile of a man who has just communicated some un expected and astonishing news and was watching its effect with suppressed enjoy ment. He knew that Leviatt felt bitter to ward the stray-man and that the news that the latter might succeed in doing the thing that he had set out to do would not be re ceived with any degree of pleasure by the range boss. But watching closely, Stafford was forced to admit that Leviatt did not feel so strong ly, or was cleverly repressing his emotions. There was no sign on the range boss s face that he had been hurt by the news. His face had grown slightly paler and there was a hard glitter in his narrowed eyes. But his voice was steady. "Well, now," he said, "that ought to tickle you a heap." "I won t be none disappointed," returned Stafford. KEEPING A PROMISE Leviatt looked sharply at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "When was you talkin to him?" he ques tioned. "Yesterday." Leviatt s lips moved slightly. "An when did you say them cattle was rustled?" he asked. "Night before last," returned Stafford. Leviatt was silent for a brief time. Then he unfolded his arms and stood erect, his eyes boring into Stafford s. "When you expectin Ferguson?" he questioned. "He didn t say just when he was comin" in," returned Stafford. "But I reckon we might expect him any time." Leviatt strode to the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled evilly. "I m much obliged to you for tellin me," he said. "We ll be ready for him." A little over an hour after his departure from the hill, Ferguson rode up to the Two Diamond corral gate and dismounted. 315 THE TWO-GUN MAN Grouped around the door of the bunkhouse were several of the Two Diamond men; in a strip of shade from the blacksmith shop were others. Jocular words were hurled at him by some of the men as he drew the saddle from Mustard, for the stray-man s quietness and invariable thoughtfulness had won him a place in the affections of many of the men, and their jocular greetings were evidence of this. He nodded shortly to them, but did not answer. And instead of lugging his saddle to its accustomed peg in the lean-to, he threw it over the corral fence and left it. Then, without another look toward the men, he turned and strode toward the manager s office. The latter was seated at his desk and looked up at the stray-man s entrance. He opened his lips to speak, but closed them again, surprised at the stray-man s appear ance. During the months that Ferguson had worked at the Two Diamond, Stafford had not seen him as he looked at this moment, 316 KEEPING A PROMISE Never, during the many times the manager had seen him, had he been able to guess any thing of the stray-man s emotions by looking at his face. Now, however, there had come a change. In the set, tightly drawn lips were the tell-tale signs of an utterable resolve. In the narrowed, steady eyes was a light that chilled Stafford like a cold breeze in the heat of a summer s day. In the man s whole body was something that shocked the man ager into silence. He came into the room, standing near the door, his set lips moving a very little. "You heard anything from Leviatt yet?" he ques tioned. "Why, yes," returned Stafford, hesitat ingly; "he was here, talkin to me. Ain t been gone more n half an hour. I reckon he s somewhere around now." "You talkin to him, you say?" said the stray-man slowly. He smiled mirthlessly. "I reckon you told him about them missin calves?" "I sure did!" returned Stafford with mucK vehemence. He laughed harshly. "I told him 317 THE TWO-GUN MAN more," he said; "I told him you was goin to show me the man who d rustled them." Ferguson s lips wreathed into a grim smile. "So you told him?" he said. "I was expectin you d do that, if he got in before me. That s why I stopped in here. That was somethin* which I was wantin him to know. I don t want it to be said that I didn t give him a chance." Stafford rose from his chair, taking a step toward the stray-man. "Why, what ?" he began. But a look at the stray-man s face silenced him. "I ve come over here to-day to show you that rustler I told you about yesterday. I m goin to look for him now. If he ain t sloped I reckon you ll see him pretty soon." Leviatt stepped down from the door of the manager s office and strode slowly to ward the bunkhouse. On the way he passed several of the men, but he paid no attention to them, his face wearing an evil expression, his eyes glittering venomously. L When he reached the bunkhouse he passed 318 KEEPING A PROMISE several more of the men without a word, go ing directly to a corner of the room where sat Tucson and conversing earnestly with his friend. A little later both he and Tucson rose and passed out of the bunkhouse, walk ing toward the blacksmith shop. After a little they appeared, again join ing the group outside the bunkhouse. It was while Leviatt and Tucson were in the blacksmith shop that Ferguson had come in. When they came out again the stray-man had disappeared into the manager s office. Since the day when in the manager s office, Ferguson had walked across the floor to return to Leviatt the leather tobacco pouch that the latter had dropped in the de pression on the ridge above the gully where the stray-man had discovered the dead Two Diamond cow and her calf, Leviatt had known that the stray-man suspected him of being leagued with the rustlers. But this knowledge had not disturbed him. He felt secure because of his position. Even the stray-man would have to have absolute, damning evidence before he could hope to 319 THE TWO-GUN MAN be successful in proving a range boss guilty of cattle stealing. Leviatt had been more concerned over the stray-man s apparent success in courting Mary Radford. His hatred beginning with the shooting match in Dry Bottom had been intensified by the discovery of Fer guson on the Radford porch in Bear Flat; by the incident at the bunkhouse, when Rope Jones had prevented Tucson from shooting the stray-man from behind, and by the dis covery that the latter suspected him of com plicity with the cattle thieves. But it had reached its highest point when Mary Rad ford spurned his love. After that he had realized that just so long as the stray-man lived and remained at the Two Diamond there would be no peace or security for him there. Yet he had no thought of settling his dif ferences with Ferguson as man to man. Twice had he been given startling proof of the stray-man s quickness with the six- shooter, and each time his own slowness had been crushingly impressed on his mind. He 320 KEEPING A PROMISE was not fool enough to think that he could beat the stray-man at that game. But there were other ways. Rope Jones had discovered that when it had been too late to profit. Rope had ridden into a care fully laid trap and, in spite of his reputation for quickness in drawing his weapon, had found that the old game of getting a man between two fires had proven efficacious. And now Leviatt and Tucson were to at tempt the scheme again. Since his inter view with Stafford, Leviatt had become con vinced that the time for action had come. Ferguson had left word with the manager that he was to show the latter the rustler, and by that token Leviatt knew that the stray-man had gathered evidence against him and was prepared to show him to the manager in his true light. He, in turn, had left a message with the manager for Fer guson. "We ll be ready for him," he had said. He did not know whether Ferguson had received this message. It had been a subtle thought ; the words had been merely involun- 321 THE TWO-GUN MAN tary. By "We" the manager had thought that he had meant the entire outfit was to be held ready to apprehend the rustler. Leviatt had meant only himself and Tucson. And they were ready. Down in the black smith shop, while Ferguson had ridden in and stepped into the manager s office, had Leviatt and Tucson made their plan. When they had joined the group in front of the bunkhouse and had placed themselves in positions where thirty or forty feet of space yawned between them, they had been mak ing the first preparatory movement. The next would come when Ferguson appeared, to carry out his intention of showing Staf ford the rustler. To none of the men of the outfit did Leviatt or Tucson reveal anything of the nervousness that affected them. They listened to the rough jest, they laughed when the others laughed, they dropped an occa sional word of encouragement. They even laughed at jokes in which there was no yisible point. But they did not move from their places, KEEPING A PROMISE nor did they neglect to keep a sharp, alert eye out for the stray-man s appearance. And when they saw him come out of the door of the office they neglected to joke or laugh, but stood silent, with the thirty or forty feet of space between them, their faces paling a little, their hearts laboring a little harder. When Ferguson stepped out of the door of the office, Stafford followed. The stray- man had said enough to arouse the man ager s suspicions, and there was something about the stray-man s movements which gave the impression that he contemplated something more than merely pointing out the thief. If warning of impending tragedy had ever shone in a man s eyes, Stafford was certain that it had shone in the stray-man s during the brief time that he had been in the office and when he had stepped down from the door. Stafford had received no invitation to fol low the stray-man, but impelled by the threat in the latter s eyes and by the hint of cold resolution that gave promise of immi- THE TWO-GUN MAN nent tragedy, he stepped down also, trailing the stray-man at a distance of twenty yards. Ferguson did not hesitate once in his progress toward the bunkhouse, except to cast a rapid, searching glance toward a group of two or three men who lounged in the shade of the eaves of the building. Pass ing the blacksmith shop he continued toward the bunkhouse, walking with a steady stride, looking neither to the right or left. Other men in the group, besides Leviatt and Tucson, had seen the stray-man com ing, and as he came nearer, the talk died and a sudden silence fell. Ferguson came to a point within ten feet of the group of men, who were ranged along the wall of the bunkhouse. Stafford had come up rapidly, and he now stood near a corner of the bunk- house in an attitude of intense attention. He was in a position where he could see the stray-man s face, and he marveled at the sudden change that had come into it. The tragedy had gone, and though the hard lines were still around his mouth, the corners twitched a little, as though moved by a cold, KEEPING A PROMISE feline humor. There was a hint of mockery in his eyes a chilling mockery, much like that which the manager had seen in them months before when in Dry Bottom the stray-man had told Leviatt that he thought he was a "plum man." But now Stafford stood breathless as he heard the stray-man s voice, directed at Leviatt. "I reckon you think you ve been some busy lately," he drawled. Meaningless words, as they appear here; meaningless to the group of men and to the Two Diamond manager; yet to Leviatt they were burdened with a dire significance. They told him that the stray-man was aware of his duplicity ; they meant perhaps that the stray-man knew of his dealings with the cattle thieves whom he had visited yesterday in the hills near the river. Whatever Leviatt thought, there was significance enough in the words to bring a sneering smile to his face. "Meanin ?" he questioned, his eyes glit tering evilly. Ferguson smiled, his eyes unwavering and narrowing a very little as they met those of 325 THE TWO-GUN MAN his questioner. Deliberately, as though the occasion were one of unquestioned peace, he drew out some tobacco and several strips of rice paper. Selecting one of the strips of paper, he returned the others to a pocket and proceeded to roll a cigarette. His movements were very deliberate. Stafford watched him, fascinated by his coolness. In the tense silence no sound was heard except a subdued rattle of pans in the bunkhouse telling that the cook and his assistant were at work. The cigarette was made finally, and then the stray-man lighted it and looked again at Leviatt, ignoring his question, asking an other himself. "You workin down the creek yesterday?" he said. "Up!" snapped Leviatt. The question had caught him off his guard or he would have evaded it. He had told the lie out of pure perverseness. Ferguson took a long pull at his cigarette. "Well, now," he returned, "that s mighty peculiar. I d have swore that I seen you an Tucson ridin down the river yesterday. 326 KEEPING A PROMISE Thought I saw you in a basin in the hills, talkin to some men that I d never seen be fore. I reckon I was mistaken, but I d have swore that I d seen you." Leviatt s face was colorless. Standing with his profile to Tucson, he closed one eye furtively. This had been a signal that had previously been agreed upon. Tucson caught it and turned slightly, letting one hand fall to his right hip, immediately above the butt of his pistol. "Hell!" sneered Leviatt, "you re seein a heap of things since you ve been runnin with Mary Radford!" Ferguson laughed mockingly. "Mebbe I have," he returned. "Ridin with her sure makes a man open his eyes considerable." Now he ignored Leviatt, speaking to Staf ford. "When I was in here one day, talkin to you," he said quietly, "you told me about you an Leviatt goin to Dry Bottom to hire a gunfighter. I reckon you told that right?" "I sure did," returned Stafford. Ferguson took another pull at his cigarette blowing the smoke slowly sky- 327 THE TWO-GUN MAN ward. And he drawled again, so that there was a distinct space between the words. "I reckon you didn t go around advertisin that?" he asked. Stafford shook his head negatively. "There ain t anyone around here knowed anything about that but me an you an Leviatt," he returned. Ferguson grinned coldly. "An yet it s got out," he stated quietly. "I reckon if no one but us three knowed about it, one of us has been gassin . I wouldn t think that you d done any gassin ," he added, speaking to Stafford. The latter slowly shook his head. Ferguson continued, his eyes cold and alert. "An I reckon that I ain t shot off about it unless I ve been dreamin . Ac- cordin to that it must have been Leviatt who told Mary Radford that I d been hired to kill her brother." Leviatt sneered. "Suppose I did?" he returned, showing his teeth in a savage snarl. "What are you goin to do about it?" "Nothin now," drawled Ferguson. "I m KEEPING A PROMISE glad to hear that you ain t denyin it." He spoke to Stafford, without removing his gaze from the range boss. "Yesterday," he stated calmly, "I was ridin down the river. I found a basin among the hills. There was a cabin down there. Four men was talkin in front of it. There was twenty calves an a dozen cows in a corral. Two of the men was " Leviatt s right hand dropped suddenly to his holster. His pistol was half out. Tuc son s hand was also wrapped around the butt of his pistol. But before the muzzle of either man s gun had cleared its holster, there was a slight movement at the stray-man s sides and his two guns glinted in the white sun light. There followed two reports, so rapid ly that they blended. Smoke curled from the muzzles of the stray-man s pistols. Tucson sighed, placed both hands to his chest, and pitched forward headlong, stretching his length in the sand. For an in- stand Leviatt stood rigid, his left arm swing ing helplessly by his side, broken by the stray-man s bullet, an expression of surprise 329 THE TWO-GUN MAN and fear in his eyes. Then with a sudden, savage motion he dragged again at his gun. One of the stray-man s guns crashed again, sharply. Leviatt s weapon went off, its bullet throwing up sand in front of Fer guson. Leviatt s eyes closed, his knees doubled under him, and he pitched forward at Ferguson s feet. He was face down, his right arm outstretched, the pistol still in his hand. A thin, blue wreath of smoke rose lazily from its muzzle. Ferguson bent over him, his weapons still in his hands. Leviatt s legs stretched slow ly and then stiffened. In the strained silence that had followed the shooting Ferguson stood, looking gloomily down upon the quiet form of his fallen adversary. "I reckon you won t lie no more about me," he said dully. Without a glance in the direction of the group of silent men, he sheathed his weapons and strode toward the ranchhouse. 330 CHAPTER XXIII AT THE EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD FERGUSON strode into the man ager s office and dropped heavily in to a chair beside the desk. He was directly in front of the open door and look ing up he could see the men down at the bunkhouse congregated around the bodies of Leviatt and Tucson. The end that he had been expecting for the past two days had come had come as he knew it must come. He had not been trapped as they had trapped Rope Jones. When he had stood before Leviatt in front of the bunkhouse, he had noted the positions of the two men; had seen that they had ex pected him to walk squarely into the net that they had prepared for him. His lips curled 331 THE TWO-GUN MAN a little even now over the thought that the two men had held him so cheaply. Well, they had learned differently, when too late. It was the end of things for them, and for him the end of his hopes. When he had drawn his guns he had thought of merely wounding Leviatt, intending to allow the men of the outfit to apply to him the penalty that all convicted cattle thieves must suffer. But before that he had hoped to induce Leviatt to throw some light upon the at tempted murder of Ben Radford. However, Leviatt had spoiled all that when he had attempted to draw his weapon after he was wounded. He had given Fer guson no alternative. He had been forced to kill the only man who, he was convinced, could have given him any information about the shooting of Radford, and now, in spite of anything that he might say to the con trary, Mary Radford, and even Ben himself, would always believe him guilty. He could not stay at Two Diamond now. He must get out of the country, back to the old life at the Lazy J, where among his friends he EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD might finally forget. But he doubted much. Did men ever forget women they had loved l^ Some perhaps did, but he was certain that nothing not even time could dim the pic ture that was now in his mind: the hill in the flat, the girl sitting upon the rock beside him, her eyes illuminated with a soft, tender light; her breeze-blown hair which he had kissed; which the Sun-Gods had kissed as, coming down from the mountains, they had bathed the hill with the golden light of the evening. He had thought then that nothing could prevent him from enjoying the happi ness which that afternoon seemed to have promised. He had watched the sun sinking behind the mountains, secure in the thought that the morrow would bring him added happiness. But now there could be no to morrow for him. Fifteen minutes later Stafford entered the office to find his stray-man still seated in the chair, his head bowed in his hands. He did not look up as the manager entered, and the latter stepped over to him and laid a friend ly hand on his shoulder. 333 THE TWO-GUN MAN "I m thankin you for what you ve done for me," he said. Ferguson rose, leaning one hand on the back of the chair upon which he had been sitting. The manager saw that deep lines had come into his face ; that his eyes always steady before were restless and gleaming with an expression which seemed unfathom able. But he said nothing until the manager had seated himself beside the desk. Then he took a step and stood looking into Staf ford s upturned face. "I reckon I ve done what I came here to do," he said grimly. "I m takin my time now." Stafford s face showed a sudden disap pointment. "Shucks!" he returned, unable to keep the regret from his voice. "Ain t things suited you here?" The stray-man grinned with straight lips. He could not let the manager know his secret. "Things have suited me mighty well," he declared. "I m thankin you for havin made things pleasant for me while 334 EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD I ve been here. But I ve done what I con tracted to do an there ain t anything more to keep me here. If you ll give me my time I ll be goin ." Stafford looked up at him with a sly, significant smile. "Why," he said, "Leviatt told me that you d found somethin real interestin over on Bear Flat. Now, I shouldn t think you d want to run away from her!" The stray-man s lips whitened a little. "I don t think Mary Radf ord is worryin about me," he said steadily. "Well, now," returned Stafford, serious again; "then I reckon Leviatt had it wrong." "I expect he had it wrong," answered the stray-man shortly. But Stafford did not yield. He had de termined to keep the stray-man at the Two Diamond and there were other arguments that he had not yet advanced which might cause him to stay. He looked up again, his face wearing a thoughtful expression. "I reckon you remember our contract?" he questioned. 335 THE TWO-GUN MAN The stray-man nodded. "I was to find out who was stealin your cattle," he said. Stafford smiled slightly. "Correct!" he returned. "You ve showed me two thieves. But a while ago I heard you say that there was two more. Our contract ain t fulfilled until you show me them too. You reckon?" The stray-man drew a deep, resigned breath. "I expect that s right," he admitted. "But I ve told you where you can find them. All you ve got to do is to ride over there an catch them." Stafford s smile widened a little. "Sure," he returned, "that s all I ve got to do. An I m goin to do it. But I m wantin my range boss to take charge of the outfit that s goin over to ketch them." "Your range boss?" said Ferguson, a flash of interest in his eyes, "Why, your range boss ain t here any more." Stafford leaned forward, speaking seri ously. "I m talkin to my range boss right now!" he said significantly. Ferguson started, and a tinge of slow color came into his face. He drew a deep 336 EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD breath and took a step forward. But sud denly he halted, his lips straightening again. "I m thankin you," he said slowly. "But I m leavin the Two Diamond." He drew himself up, looking on the instant more his old indomitable self. "I m carryin out our contract though," he added. "If you re wantin me to go after them other two men, I ain t backin out. But you re takin charge of the outfit. I ain t goin to be your range boss." An hour later ten of the Two Diamond men, accompanied by Stafford and the stray- man, loped their horses out on the plains to ward the river. It was a grim company on a grim mission, and the men forbore to joke as they rode through the dust and sunshine of the afternoon. Ferguson rode slightly in advance, silent, rigid in the saddle, not even speaking to Stafford, who rode near him. Half an hour after leaving the Two Dia mond they rode along the crest of a ridge of hills above Bear Flat. They had been riding here only a few minutes when Staf ford, who had been watching the stray-man, 337 THE TWO-GUN MAN saw him start suddenly. The manager turned and followed the stray-man s gaze. Standing on a porch in front of a cabin on the other side of the flat was a woman. She was watching them, her hands shading her eyes. Stafford saw the stray-man suddenly dig his spurs into his pony s flanks, saw a queer pallor come over his face. Five min utes later they had ridden down through a gully to the plains. Thereafter, even the hard riding Two Diamond boys found it difficult to keep near the stray-man. Something over two hours later the Two Diamond outfit, headed by the stray-man, clattered down into a little basin, where Fer guson had seen the cabin two days before. As the Two Diamond men came to within a hundred feet of the cabin two men, who had been at work in a small corral, suddenly dropped their branding irons and bolted to ward the cabin. But before they had time to reach the door the Two Diamond men had surrounded them, sitting grimly and silent ly in their saddles. Several of Stafford s men had drawn their weapons, but were now: 338 EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD returning them to their holsters, for neither of the two men was armed. They stood with in the grim circle, embarrassed, their heads 1 bowed, their attitude revealing their shame at having been caught so easily. One of the men, a clear, steady-eyed fellow, laughed frankly. "Well, we re plum easy, ain t we boys?" he said, looking around at the silent group. "Corraled us without lettin off a gun. That s what I d call re-diculous. You re right wel come. But mebbe you wouldn t have had things so easy if we hadn t left our guns in the cabin. Eh, Bill?" he questioned, prod ding the other man playfully in the ribs. But the other man did not laugh. He stood before them, his embarrassment gone, his eyes shifting and fearful. "Shut up, you damn fool!" he snarled. But the clear-eyed man gave no attention to this outburst. "You re TW T O Diamond men, ain t you?" he asked, looking full at Ferguson. The latter nodded, and the clear-eyed man continued. "Knowed you right off," he de- 339 THE TWO-GUN MAN clared, with a laugh. "Leviatt pointed you out to me one day when you was ridin out yonder." He jerked a thumb toward the distance. "Leviatt told me about you. Wanted to try an plug you with his six, but decided you was too far away." He laughed self -accusingly. "If you d been half an hour later, I reckon you wouldn t have proved your stock, but we loafed a heap, an half of that bunch ain t got our brand." "We didn t need to look at no brand," de clared Stafford grimly. The clear-eyed man started a little. Then he laughed. "Then you must have got Leviatt an Tucson," he said. He turned to Ferguson. "If Leviatt has been got," he said, "it must have been you that got him. He told me he was runnin in with you some day. I kept tellin him to be careful." Ferguson s eyelashes twitched a little. "Thank you for the compliment," he said. "Aw, hell!" declared the man, sneering. "I wasn t mushin none!" Stafford had made a sign to the men and some of them dismounted and approached 340 EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD the two rustlers. The man who had pro fanely admonished the other to silence made some little resistance, but in the end he stood within the circle, his hands tied behind him. The clear-eyed man made no resistance, seeming to regard the affair in the light of a huge joke. Once, while the Two Diamond men worked at his hands, he told them to be careful not to hurt him. "I m goin to be hurt enough, after a while," he added. There was nothing more to be done. The proof of guilt was before the Two Diamond men, in the shape of several calves in the small corral that still bore the Two Diamond brand. Several of the cows were still adorned with the Two Diamond ear mark, and in addition to this was Ferguson s evi dence. Therefore the men s ponies were caught up, saddled, and the two men foiced to mount. Then the entire company rode out of the little gully through which the Two Diamond outfit had entered, riding toward the cottonwood that skirted the river miles away. 341 THE TWO-GUN MAN A little while before sunset the cavalcade rode to the edge of the cottonwood. Staf ford halted his pony and looked at Fer guson, but the stray-man had seen enough tragedy for one day and he shook his head, sitting gloomily in the saddle. "I m waitin here," he said simply. "There ll be enough in there to do it with out me." The clear-eyed man looked at him with a grim smile. "Why, hell!" he said. "You ain t goin in?" his eyes lighted for an instant. "I reckon you re plum white!" he declared. "You ain t aimin to see any free show." "I m sayin so-long to you," returned Ferguson. "You re game." A flash of ad miration lighted his eyes. The clear-eyed man smiled enigmatically. "I m stayin game!" he declared grimly, without boast. "An now I m tellin you somethin . Yesterday Leviatt told me he d shot Ben Radford. He said he d lied to Ben about you an that he d shot him so s his sister would think you done it. You ve been 342 EDGE OF THE COTTONWOOD white, an so I m squarin things for you. I m wishin you luck." For an instant he sat in the saddle, watch ing a new color surge into the stray-man s face. Then his pony was led away, through a tangle of undergrowth at the edge of the cottonwood. When Ferguson looked again, the little company had ridden into the shadow, but Ferguson could make out the clear-eyed man, still erect in his saddle, still seeming to wear an air of unstudied non chalance. For a moment longer Ferguson saw him, and then he was lost in the shadows. S48 CHAPTER XXIV THE END OF THE STORY TWO weeks later Ferguson had occa sion to pass through Bear Flat. Coming out of the flat near the cottonwood he met Ben Radford. The latter, his shoulder mending rapidly, grinned genially at the stray-man. "I m right sorry I made that mistake, Ferguson," he said; "but Leviatt sure did give you a bad reputation." Ferguson smiled grimly. "He won t be sayin bad things about anyone else," he said. And then his eyes softened. "But I m some sorry for the cuss," he added. "He had it comin ," returned Ben soberly. "An I d rather it was him than me." He looked up at Ferguson, his eyes narrowing quizzically. "You ain t been around here for THE END OF THE STORY a long time," he said. "For a man who s just been promoted to range boss you re un naturally shy." Ferguson smiled. "I ain t paradin around showin off," he returned. "Some one might take it into their head to bore me with a rifle bullet." Radford s grin broadened. "I reckon you re wastin valuable time," he declared. "For I happen to know that she wouldn t throw nothing worse n a posy at you!" "You don t say?" returned Ferguson seriously. "I reckon " He abruptly turned his pony down the trail that led to the cabin. As he rode up to the porch there was a sudden movement, a rustle, a gasp of astonishment, and Mary Radford stood in the doorway looking at him. For a moment there was a silence that might have meant many things. Both were thinking rapidly over the events of their last meeting at this very spot. Then Ferguson moved uneasily in the saddle. "You got that there rifle anywheres handy?" he asked, grinning at her. 345 THE TWO-GUN MAN Her eyes drooped; one foot nervously pushed out the hem of her skirts. Then she laughed, flushing crimson. "It wasn t loaded anyway," she said. The sunset was never more beautiful than to-day on the hill in Bear Flat. Mary Rad- f ord sat on the rock in her accustomed place and stretched out, full length beside her, was Ferguson. He was looking out over the flat, at the shadows of the evening that were advancing slowly toward the hill. She turned toward him, her eyes full and luminous. "I am almost at the end of my story," she said smiling at him. "But," and her forehead wrinkled perplexedly, "I find the task of ending it more difficult than I had anticipated. It s a love scene," she added banteringly; "do you think you could help me?" He looked up at her. "I reckon I could help you in a real love scene," he said, "but I ain t very good at pretendin ." "But this is a real love scene," she replied stoutly; "I am writing it as it actually oc- 346 THE END OF THE STORY curred to me. I have reached the moment when you I mean the hero has declared his love for me, of course (with a blush) I mean the heroine, and she has accepted him But they are facing a problem. In the story he has been a cowpuncher and of course has no permanent home. And of course the reader will expect me to tell how they lived after they had finally decided to make life s journey together. Perhaps you can tell me how the hero should go about it." "Do you reckon that any reader is that in quisitive?" he questioned. "Why of course." He looked anxiously at her. "In that case," he said, "mebbe the reader would want to know what the heroine thought about it. Would she want to go back East to live takin her cowpuncher with her to show off to her Eastern friends?" She laughed. "I thought you were not very good at pretending," she said, "and here you are trying to worm a declaration of my intentions out of me. You did not need to go about that so slyly," she told him, 347 THE TWO-GUN MAN with an earnestness that left absolutely no doubt of her determination, "for I am going to stay right here. Why," she added, tak ing a deep breath, and a lingering glance at the rift in the mountains where the rose veil descended, "I love the West." He looked at her, his eyes narrowing with sympathy. "I reckon it s a pretty good little old country," he said. He smiled broadly. "An now I m to tell you how to end your story," he said, "by givin you the hero s plans for the future. I m tellin you that they ain t what you might call elaborate. But if your inquisitive reader must know about them, you might say that Stafford is givin his hero I m meanin , of course, his range boss a hundred dollars a month bein some tickled over what his range boss has done for him. "An that there range boss knows when he s got a good thing. He s goin to send to Cimarron for a lot of stuff fixin s an things for the heroine, an he s goin to make a proposition to Ben Radford to make his cabin a whole lot bigger. Then him an 348 THE END OF THE STORY the heroine is goin to live right there right where the hero meets the heroine the first time when he come there after bein bit by a rattler. An then if any little heroes or heroines come they d have " Her hand was suddenly over his mouth. "Why why " she protested, trying her best to look scornful "do you imagine that I would think of putting such a thing as that into my book?" He grinned guiltily. "I don t know any thing about writin ," he said, properly humbled, "but I reckon it wouldn t be any of the reader s business." THE END. 349 The greatest pleasure in life is that of reading, ff^hy not then own the books of great novelists when the price is so small C Of all the amusements which can possibly be imagined for a hard-working man, after his dotty toil, or, in its intervals, there is nothing like reading an entertaining book. It calls for no bodily exertion. It transports hint into a livelier, and gayer, and more di versified and interesting scene, and while he enjoys himself there he may forget the evils of the present moment. Nay, it accompanies him to his next day s work, and gives him something to think of besides the were mechanical drudgery of his every-day occu pation something he can enjoy while absent, and took forward with pleasure to return to. Ask your dealer for a list of the titles in Surfs Popular Priced Fiction In buying the books bearing the A. L. Eurt Company imprint you are assured of wholesome, en tertaining and instructive reading THE BEST OF RECENT FICTION Adventurej of Jimmie Dale, The. Frank L. Packard. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. A. Conan Doyle. Affair at Flower Acres, The. Carolyn Wells. Affinities and Other Stories. Mary Roberts Rinehart. After Hous*, The. Mary Roberts Rinehart. Against the Winds. Kate Jordan. Alcatraz. Max Brand. Alias Richard Power. William Allison. All the Way by Water. Elizabeth Stancy Payne. Amateur Gentleman, The. Jeffery Farnol. Amateur Inn, The. Albert Pay son Terhune. Anna the Adventuress. E. Phillips Oppenheim. Anne s House of Dreams. L. M. Montgomery. Anybody But Anne. Carolyn Wells. Are All Men Alike, and The Lost Titian. Arthur Stringer, Around Old Chester. Margaret Deland, Arrant Rover, The. Berta Ruck. Athalie. Robert W. Chambers. At the Mercy of Tiberius. Augusta Evans Wilson. At Sight of Gold. Cynthia Lombardi. Auction Block, The. Rex Beach. Aunt Jane of Kentucky. Eliza C. Hall. Awakening of Helena Ritchie. Margaret Deland. Bab: a Sub-Deb. Mary Roberts Rinehart. Bar 20. Clarence E. Mulford. Bar 20 Days. Clarence E. Mulford. Bar-20 Three. Clarence E. Mulford. Barrier, The. Rex Beach. Bars of Iron, The. Ethel M. Dell. Bat Wing. Sax Rohmer. Beasts of Tarzan, Th. Edgar Rice BurrougHs. Beautiful and Damned, The. F. Scott Fitzgerald. Beauty. Rupert Hughes. Behind Locked Doors. Ernest M. Poate. Bella Donna. Robert Hichens. (Photoplay Ed.)* Beloved Traitor, The. Frank L. Packard. Beloved Vagabond, The. Wm. J. Locke, Beloved Woman, The. Kathleen Morris. Beltane the Smith. Jeffery Farnol. Betrayal, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. Beyond the frontier. Randall Parrish. Big Timber. Bertrand W. Sinclair. Black Bartlemy s Treasure. Jeffery Farnot Black Butte*. Clarence E. Mulford. AT A POPULAR PRICE Black Caesar s Clan. Albert Payson Terhune. Black Gold. Albert Payson Terhune. Black Is White. George Barr McCutcheon. Black Oxen. Gertrude Atherton. (Photoplay Ed.). 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A. Conan Doyle. Dark Hollow. Anna Katharine Green. Daughter Pays, The. Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. Depot Master, The. Joseph C. Lincoln. Desert Healer, The. E. M.^Hull. Destroying Angel, Thie. Louis Joseph Vance. (Photoplay Ed.). Devil s Paw, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. Diamond Thieves, The. Arthur Stringer. Disturbing Charm, The. Berta Ruck. Doimegan, George Owen Baxter. Door of Dread, The. Arthur Stringer. Doors of the Night. Frank L. Packard. Dope. Sax Rohmer. Double Traitor, The. E. Phillips Oppenneim. Dust of the Desert. Robert Welles Ritchie. Empty Hands. ArtKur Stringer. Empty Pockets. Rupert Hughes. Empty Sack, The. Basil King. Enchanted Canyon. Honore Willsie. Enemies of Women. V. B. Ibanez. (Photoplay Ed.), Eris. Robert W. Chambers. Erskine Dale, Pioneer. John Fox!, Jr. Evil Shepherd, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim. JExtricating Obadiah. Joseph C. Lincoln. Eye of Zeitoon, The. Talbot Mundy. jyes of the Blind. Arthur Somers Roche. Eyes of the World. Harold Bell Wright. Fair Harbor. Joseph" C. Lincoln. Family. Wayland Wells Williams. Fathoms Deep. Elizabeth Stancy Payne. Feast of the Lanterns>. Louise Gordon Mim. Fighting Chance, The, Robert W. Chambers. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 290ct 50WK RECTD t-D SEP 2 1959 HOV29J952LU 14Dec 55TW IOMar 57Bp REC D LD fB28l<L LD 21-100m-9, 48(B399sl6)476 YtJ M545958