"Yes," she said, and her eyes met his meaningly. "I would like Jeff to have that chance."
Sudden understood--she was asking him not to kill. To his great relief, the Colonel called her, and he was spared the necessity of replying.
At supper that evening, he asked questions about Red Rock, and casually mentioned his holiday. The announcement met with a mixed reception.
"Why, yu ain't been here no time," one of the older men commented. "How'd yu work it, Green?"
"Held a gun on the 01' Man, I should think," Turvey sneered.
"Yeah, that's yore trouble, Turvey," Sudden retorted. "Yu should, but yu don't. I just asked, that's all."
"Ken must be drunk or loco; strike while the iron's hot is my motto," Frosty grinned, as he made for the door. "I'd like to go with yu, Jim."
He was back in ten minutes, still wearing the grin, but hisred face told a different story. A dozen eager voices put the same question.
Frosty shook his head. "Said he was mighty sorry, but he couldn't have two of his best men absent at the same time, which shows he's in his senses all right. 0' course, that don't shut out all o' yu."
A yelp of ironical mirth greeted this modest explanation and in the midst of it, Lagley entered. He shot a sour look at Sudden.
"Why didn't yu come to me if yu wanted to lay off?"
"Thought I'd save yu the trouble of askin' the boss," was * the careless reply.
The implication that he had not the power to give permission only deepened the foreman's frown, but it was Turvey who spoke.
"Allus did hate a ranch where the owner keeps pets," he said viciously.
"Well, yu ain't tied to it, are yu?" Sudden enquired acidly.
Lagley averted a possible storm by calling the new hand outside.
"Keith said yu were goin' to Red Rock. How long d'yu aim to stay away?" he asked.
"Two-three days, mebbe."
"Have yu told--him?" He jerked a thumb towards the hills.
"Lord, no. I ain't sold him my soul."
"Wait an' see," was the reply, and the puncher could have sworn there was a tinge of bitterness in the tone. "D'yu figure that he won't know?"
"I ain't carin', but shore he will," Sudden said. "Why, yonder goes Turvey, takin' the glad tidin's."
Even as he spoke, a hunched-up little horseman shot away from the corral, heading through the gloom towards the hills. The foreman swore.
"Damnation, yo're way off the target, Green. That hombre has to night-herd the bunch o' three-year-olds yu an' Frosty have rousted out'n the brush."
Sudden accepted the explanation but did not believe it. "A fella can't allus hit the mark," he said. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"
"On'y this," Lagley replied. "Yo're sittin' in a bigger game than yu savvy; don't over-value yore hand."
"Oh, I'm growed up an' got all my teeth," the puncher returned lightly. "Any messages for Red Rock?"
He got no answer to this flippant enquiry. Seated on the bench outside the bunkhouse, he smoked, and turned things over. Despite the fact that they were supposed to be working together, the foreman did not like him. That he had guessed correctly as to Turvey's errand he felt positive.
"Steve don't want me in neither camp," he reflected. "Probably he's plannin' to play me some scurvy trick right now. Wonder if that little rat is goin' on to Red Rock to make arrangements?"
The possibility sent him to bed chuckling.
Sudden's reception in the morning at Black Sam's was not the one he had expected, for though the negro professed to be glad to see him, it was very evidently untrue. His hands shook as he supplied the drink ordered, and his anxious gaze was never off the door. A blunt enquiry elicited that nothing had been seen of Scar and his friends, but that other denizens of the bandit stronghold had visited Dugout and behaved themselves decorously.
"Then what's yore trouble, ol'-timer?" the puncher demanded. "Why treat me like I had a catchin' complaint?"
The saloon-keeper furtively pushed a piece of paper the bar. "Done foun' it dis mawnin', shove undeh de do', quavered. "I silo' gotta leave heah."
Clumsily scrawled in pencil on the soiled scrap were the words : "One more offense an' you dekorate a tree.
SATAN."
Sudden laughed as he read it. "I wouldn't be in too much of a hurry, Sam," he advised. "Why, yu numskull, don't yu reckon Jeff Keith can write an' spell better'n that?"
The negro's gloomy features lightened. "Yo're sho'ly right, ser," he agreed. "Dis niggeh got no savvy. Massa Jeff he done went to college."
"It's friend Scar, o' course, tryin' to frighten yu. Lemme have the message, an' next time I meet the gent I'll make him eat it."
He pocketed the warning and casually mentioning that he was bound for Red Rock, departed. Climbing the long slope to Hell City, an idea occurred to him which brought a mischievous grin to his hard face. The custodian of the gate opened without question or comment, though it was not the man he had seen before. Evidently he was expected. The bandit chief received him without any sign of surprise and his first remark told that Turvey's time had not been entirely devoted to night-herding.
"Aren't you rather wide of the route to Red Rock?" Sudden affected astonishment he did not feel. "Yu are well served," he said.
"As a man should be who serves himself," was the reply. "Did the girl ask you to be silent?"
"It was a good guess."
The masked man grimaced. "Well, call it that. Now I'll tell you another thing--you never had any intention of visiting Red Rock."
"Me bein' here, it shore looks thataway," the puncher countered. "Mebbe yu know about this too." He produced the scrap of paper and told where he had obtained it. "Not quite yore style, I'd say, threatin' an old darkie who musta been pretty good to yu as a kid," he added sarcastically.
The effect was volcanic. Through shut lips the bandit barked an order which sent Silver scuttering. His master paced to and fro, his fists bunched till the knuckle-bones showed white beneath the skin, obviously seething with anger. In a few minutes the dwarf returned, with Roden slouching behind. With a furious gesture, Satan flung the paper at his feet.
"What's the meaning of that?" he snarled.
The man picked it up. "I dunno " he began, and stopped as he saw the gun levelled at his breast.
"One lie and you'll never speak again."
The rascal did not doubt it. In those pale eyes shone a lust to take his life, and he knew that the finger on the trigger was itching to press it. His tanned skin turned to a sickly yellow.
"Aw, Chief, I didn't mean no harm," he muttered. "The nigger's bin gittin' uppity--you know what he done to some of us a bit back, an' I wanted to give him a bad moment, that's all."
"All? You dared to act without permission, and use my name? One more break like that, you damned dog, and I'll feed you to the buzzards. Get out, and remember, that warning now applies to you."
Only when the fellow had crept, utterly cowed, from the room did Satan replace his revolver and turn again to his visitor. The storm had passed.
"I am obliged to you," he said. "These brutes must learn that there is only one head."
"Would you have shot him?" the cowboy asked curiously. "Certainly, and he knew it," the bandit replied, and with a cold smile, '' You dont believe that. Well, I have another case to deal with--a worse one. You shall see."
He nodded to his satellite, who went and opened the door. Two men entered, gripping the arms of a third; behind them came some half-dozen others. Ragged, ill-favoured fellows, all of them, who found in the lawless West a haven where they might keep their freedom.
The prisoner was a half-breed, with more Mexican than Indian blood in him the cowboy conjectured, for he displayed none of the red man's stoicism in misfortune, and his spare frame shook as with an ague when his guards halted him in front of the masked judge. The poor wretch did not know that by his own cowardice he was condemning himself. Satan wasted no time.