The puncher had appeared, standing in the doorway, his thumbs hooked in his belt. The saloon-keeper was hovering fearfully in the background. Sudden had a word to say:
"I'm stayin' in this neck o' the woods a piece an' I'm givin' notice that if anythin' unpleasant happens to Sam here, I'll send yu four misfits to hell so fast yu'll singe on the way. Now, beat it."
He watched until they disappeared among the low hills which masked the western approach to the town, and then turned to his host."I reckon I've lost yu four customers," he said, but his grin was anything but repentant.
"Yo' done save me money, sah," Sam replied. "Dem Imps neber pay nobody."
Men were heading for the saloon, eager for information, and Sudden slipped away to his room, leaving the negro to make what explanations he chose.
Chapter IV
His apartment was not luxurious, for it contained only a pallet-bed, a chair, a bucket of water, soap and towel, but it was spotless. He smiled as he remembered Frosty's attempt to mislead him.
"An' me a stranger," he said reprovingly, though it was the very thing he would have done himself. "Allasame, I'll gamble he's white, an' somethin' is sayin' mighty loud that I'll need friends."
His window overlooked the corral and he could see his horse, Nigger, placidly nibbling the grass. He raised the sill and looked down; the ground was but a dozen feet below--it would be easy to leave that way if necessary. So far, save for Lagley, things had gone well. The men he had punished belonged to the mysterious "Satan" he had come to find and deal with, and he had deliberately made the most of the opportunity the girl's advent offered.
"If he's the sort I figure, he'll wanta see the man who, single-handed, beat up four of his toughs," he reflected aloud. "An' it's possible Keith might be grateful, which'll level up for Lagley." His mind reverted to material needs. "Fightin' must make a fella peckish; I could eat a hoss--a'most."
He went downstairs to find a meal waiting for him in the parlour behind the bar, and a shining-faced, buxom negress who bobbed a curtsey when he entered.
"Suah hope it ain't spoiled, sah," she said. "Done ask dat man o' mine to tell yo' but he don' think o' nothin' but de ol' bar."
"It was my fault, ma'am," Sudden smiled. "I was just dreamin'. My! that steak looks good."
She waited while he ate a mouthful, and departed with his praises ringing in her ears. The puncher had made another friend, unmeaningly, for the meal was perfect. Having despatched it, he went into the bar. Business was booming, and evidently the proprietor had been talking, for the afternoon's fracas appeared to be the sole topic of conversation. The smith, a big fellow, with a rugged but not unpleasing face, stepped at once to the cowboy.
"Mister, my name's Naylor, an' I'd like to shake with you," he said. "The way you played with them sots was good to see."
They shook hands, Sudden mentioned his name, and was, in turn, presented to Jansen, the store-keeper, Polter, who ran an eating-house, and a dried-up, rather silent little man called Birt, who owned a freight-wagon, and was the town's link with the outside world.
"It was time someone showed 'em they don't own the place," the store-keeper supplemented. "Few weeks ago, Roden comes in, selects some goods, an' starts to walk out. When I remind him he ain't paid he looks ugly, an' sez, `Ain't my credit good?' I tells him I don't give none. `Y o're bebeginnin' to-day,' he replies, an' backs out with his gun on me. Well, life's worth more'n ten dollars."
"They got a lesson this arternoon, but there'll be doin's when the news of it gits to Hell City," Polter opined.
Sudden asked a question; it was the smith who answered:
"It's the stronghold of the worst band of rustlers an' road-agents in Arizona, the last refuge o' the hunted outlaw. The blacker a man's record is, the warmer his welcome. Satan, their leader calls hisself, an' it ain't no boast. Him an' his Imps has got this country buffaloed. That was four of 'em you manhandled."
"Yu think they'll talk?" the puncher asked. "Me, I'd be dumb as a clam."
"Satan fin' out, sah," Sam said dolefully. "He hear eberyt'ing--he have de magic."
Sudden laughed and slapped a gold piece on the bar. "That's his magic, ol'-timer," he replied. "The most powerful in the world, save this." He drew a cartridge from his belt and stood it beside the coin. "Lead lets the life out'n a man an' all the gold in creation won't put it back. If he does hear, I guess yu needn't to worry--he won't have any sympathy for four men who let one send 'em packin'."
"Somethin' in that," Jansen admitted. "By all accounts, they'll be lucky to git off with a tongue-lashin'."
"What's he like?"
"Young--'bout yore age, I'd say--middlin' size, an' allus wears a mask, even amongst his own men," was the reply. "He's reputed to ride an' shoot like Old Nick hisself."
"An' that's all yu know?"
The freighter spoke for the first time. "Not quite," he said. "We know he don't like bein' discussed." He looked sardonically at the stranger. "Lem Roberts opened his mouth pretty wide a month back an' two days later we found him hanging from a tree on the trail-side with one o' them little red devils pinned to his vest."
This ended the subject. Sudden replaced his cartridge, and pointed to the gold coin. "Sam, I believe yo're a bit of a wizard yore own self," he smiled. "Just pass a hand over that an' see if yu can turn it into liquor; I'm settin' 'em up for the company."
This generous gesture sealed the cowboy's popularity and did much to dispel the suspicion with which a frontier community was wont to receive a stranger. Even Black Sam forgot his fears for the future and regained his customary broad smile. It was not until later, when the saloon was closed,that his face grew gloomy again. Sudden went straight to the point:
"Yu fellas are holdin' out on me," he said. "Who is this jasper yu all 'pear to be so scared of?"
The negro shook his head. "I dunno, sah--nobody dunno, but it's claimed he's Kunnel Keith's son, young Massa Jeff." * Sudden's eyebrows rose. "Keith o' the Double K?" he cried. "How come?"
"Keith lose his wife when de chile is born," Sam explained. "I don' reckon he eber forgive de boy for dat--he was mighty 'tached to her. It mak' him hard like de flint, an' young Jeff he grow up de same, bot' proud an' obst'nate as de mule. It was when de boy comes back from college dat de big trouble begins, mebbe four-five years back. 'Stead o' bein' de owner's son, Jeff has to work as one o' de outfit, an' for de same pay. Well, he don' kick, but I 'spect he found it middlin' dull aroun' heah after de East, an' he spends a lot o' time at Red Rock, thirty mile no'th. De tales come o' drinkin', high play, an' den a man is hurt at de card-table. Foh his own name, de Kunnel gits him out'n de mess, but done tells him he neber wants to see his face agin. `Yo' shan't,' Jeff sez, `but dat don' mean I'm leavin' de country like a whipped houn' at yore biddin'."
"Which might explain the mask, huh?"
"Suah looks dataway, sah. We don' heah no news o' Jeff for a good whiles an' den a herd o' Double K steers is stole; one o' de rustlers has his face hid by a red bandanner. Next, word comes dat folk is livin' in de ol' Injun dwellin's an' dat's de start o' Hell City."
"An' what d'yu think yoreself, Sam?"
"I'se feared it's true, sah," was the reluctant reply. "Satan visit Dugout onct, an' he look like Jeff; same size, voice, dress, an' use his favourite queer cuss-word, `By Christmas.' "
For some moments Sudden was silent, pondering over the singular story, and then he put a question.
"She de orphan chile of an ol' friend--de Kunnel took charge of her 'bout ten year back," Sam told him. "I guess he hoped she an' Jeff'd tie up an' dat was suthin' else he had agin de boy."
"She's pretty enough to please most men," the puncher said.