Sudden's right-hand gun spoke viciously but could not stop the bull-like charge. The great arms gripped their prey, and the attacker's weight, with the impetus of his spring, sent both men to the ground. Winded by the fall, and pinned down by his heavy opponent, the puncher was powerless. Then, when an exultant shout proclaimed that Scar and his companion had seen what was happening and were hastening to Muley's aid, he made a desperate effort and succeeded in flinging the burden aside. He scrambled to his feet only to look into the muzzles of two guns.
"Put 'em up!" Roden roared. "Squint, take his hardware an' frisk him."
With an evil grin, the cross-eyed rogue drew the weapons from their holsters and pawed the prisoner over for a possible "hide-out." Then, gazing curiously at the prostrate giant, stooped and shook him by the shoulder.
"Hey, Muley, you got him, of hoss," he cried. "Hell's bells, he's dead!"
Scar's remark was characteristic: "Muley usually had money."
Sudden watched Squint despoil the body. "Buzzards ain't got nothin' on yu two," he said acidly. "What now?"
"March," Roden ordered. "An' don't try no tricks or you'll be travellin' to hell on the heels o' them others. You'd be startin' now on'y the Chief said, `Alive, if possible.' "
"I'm agreein' with him," Sudden rejoined airily.
He stepped out and his escort followed him, their weapons ready for instant use. Curious citizens, comprehending that, the battle over, there was no longer danger of flying lead, emerged to see them file by. Ignorant of what it was all about, they gathered that this stern young stranger who had slain Butch and seemed on such good terms with their leader, was now in disgrace. Men who had witnessed the affray from the saloon now came hurrying down, bringing news of the casualties, and a hum of excitement passed along the line of onlookers.
"Muley an' Coger, huh?" one commented. "An' damn near Scar an' Squint as well. He's got guts."
"He'll need 'em," said a second. "There's others can use a whip, 'sides Muley."
Even after the prisoner and his guards had entered the Chief's abode, they hung about; judgments in Hell City were apt to be swiftly given and executed.
The bandit leader, seated at his table, looked up as the three men entered. The prisoner spoke first.
"What's the meanin' o' this?" he demanded. "If yu wanted me yu'd on'y to say so."
Through the holes in the mask the unblinking eyes regarded him with malicious satisfaction. "Where is the man you took away?"
"I dunno--ain't seen him since."
"you are lying, as you have been all through. Are you the outlaw, Sudden, or is this a lie, too?"
He held up a paper, the bill issued by the sheriff of Four-ways. The puncher laughed scornfully.
"So that's why Steve stole it? Yeah, it's me all right. D'yu figure any fella would borrow a reputation like that?"
"If he wanted to work for me and win my confidence, yes," was the reply.
Sudden saw that the man's keen mind was leading him perilously near the facts and made an effort to head him off.
"I drifted here in search of a job, an' if yu an' that houn' Lagley hadn't framed me I'd still be ridin' for the Double K," he pointed out. "An' I basted four o' yore bullies the day I come."
"Which might be a good way of attracting my attention," the other countered. He studied the paper again. "The description agrees--you must be this Sudden--"
"Gimme back my guns an' I'll prove it," the puncher offered.
Satan appeared not to hear. "No, he couldn't use a man like you," he muttered, and then, through his set teeth, "By God! I'll know the truth if I have to cut your heart out. Tell Muley to get ready."
Scar shot a vindictive glance at his prisoner. "Muley has done with whippin'," he said, and went on to explain.
Satan heard him in silence and then came the inevitable gibe: "Only four of you against one? Roden, your courage astounds me; you may yet live to be a man." He looked darkly at the puncher. "Killing Muley won't save you; we must think of something else." He bent his head. When he raised it again a fiendish grin distorted his lips; so might the King of Hell have smiled at the writhings of a tortured soul. "You robbed me of a target once," he said. "You shall replace him."
At his call, Silver appeared, received instructions, and went out. Sudden was remembering Dolver, to whom he had dealt a merciful death. Was he to be immured in that living tomb, to endure the agony of dying daily? Often enough in his adventurous life he had faced eternity undismayed but the prospect of such an end brought a black moment. One leap, and the guns at his back would speak, with swift oblivion. But the puncher was not one to throw his hand in; he would play the game out, win or lose. The big bell began to ring, slow, measured strokes, like a death-knell.
His tanned face rigid as that of a redskin, he was herded into the street, where a crowd was waiting. The murmur of voices died away as the culprit, his guards, and the masked man came out.
"Where's Muley?" a blowzy woman asked.
"In hell, I reckon," a man at her elbow replied. "This is the hombre what sent him there. It ain't goin' to be a thrashin'; see the way they's fixin' him?"
Silver was busy. Having placed the condemned man with his back to the post, he bound him tightly to it with rawhide thongs so that only his head was movable. The big hat he flung down.
"You won't need it no more," he said.
"The Chief's goin' to shoot him hisself, like he did that dago, Ramon," the fellow who had spoken before informed his neighbour.
"It'll be quick then," she answered, her tone tinged with disappointment.
"Mebbe not. That time he shot all round him without drawin' blood an' then turns away as if that's all. I see Ramon's eyes light up an' phut! there's a bullet in his brain."
"He's a good-looker," the woman commented. "Seems a'most a pity ..."
"Hell, men is common enough."
The dwarf completed his work, and Satan, standing about a dozen paces in front of the puncher, raised a hand dramatically for silence.
"This man is a traitor, therefore a danger to all of us," he announced.
"I am about to punish him."
He drew one of the ivory-butted revolvers from his belt and, scarcely taking aim, fired. Sudden felt the thud of the missile as it embedded itself in the post just above his head. A gasp from the crowd broke the tense silence which followed the crack of the report.
"He's missed," the woman whispered.
"He's playin' with him, like he did the other. Gawd, he's a cruel devil. Look, if he ain't laughin'."
In fact, it seemed so, for beneath the mask the lips were curled back like those of a snarling dog, as the man bent forward to mark the result of his shot. The face of the target might have been cut out of stone, the eyes staring steadily into the sunlight which in a moment might change to everlasting darkness.
"A shade too high, Sudden. I am out of practice--you know why," the taunting voice said. "That must be mended." Again he pulled the trigger and the shot struck a little below the first. "Better," he smiled complacently, and waited nerve-shattering moments before making a third attempt. This time Sudden felt the cold breath of the bullet as it stirred his hair, and steeled himself for the fourth, which ... It came, bringing a streak of fire, as though a red-hot iron had been laid across his scalp. Satan was speaking.
"You have begun to die, Sudden. Unless you supply the information I want in the morning, you will continue to die, slowly, as Dolver did. Think it over." He looked round at the spectators. "Anyone who approaches or speaks to this man will take his place."
He thrust the revolver back into his belt, and followed by his henchman, went to his quarters. The crowd dispersed quickly, the show was over, and--curiosity could be very costly in Hell City.
"Ain't you goin' to have him watched?" Silver ventured. "Don't you trust your knots?" his master said sharply. "He'll have to be a wizard to undo 'em."