"Yu did oughta drilled him, marshal," Durley put in. "He shore asked for it."
"Oh, I reckon he'll drift," Green said.
"Drift nothin'--he'll hang around an' shoot yu from cover," Loder contributed. "Better leave here by the back door."
The marshal shook his head. He had noticed Raven's departure immediately after the killer's downfall, and was wondering whether his expression denoted contempt or disappointed anger. When the excitement had died down a little several of the spectators left the saloon, and one of them thrust the door open again to say there was no sign of Adam.
"Two-three of us'll come out with yu," Pete suggested. "No, I'll play her a lone hand," the marshal said firmly. Bunched together, the men went out into the sunshine, but halted a little way along the street. Evidently the news had spread, for there were other groups and heads protruded from windows and doors. Three tense minutes loitered past, and then the swing-door of the saloon was thrown back and the marshal stepped out. At the same instant a gun roared from the corner of a log building opposite and the onlookers saw Green pitch sideways, to lie prone on the footpath, his right arm outflung and his left bent across his hip. With a cackle of malignant triumph, Adam emerged from his shelter, both guns poised.
"Well, gents, I reckon I've sent yore marshal to hell. Any o' yu got notions?"
Muttered curses were the only response to his bravado. Pete, filled with a bitter rage, looked at the prostrate form of his friend and wondered if his eyes were playing tricks. Surely that left hand was moving, nearer and nearer to the holster. A moment later he knew, for the gun was out and spouting flame. The amazed spectators saw the killer crumple up and collapse in the dust, and by the time they reached the marshal, he was on his feet again. They found him untouched.
"Shore thought he'd got yu," Durley said. "How'd he come to miss?"
"I fell before he fired," Green explained. "I guessed he'd hide an' lay for me. Had to make him show hisself. Well, he had his chance."
"Why yu give him any has got me guessin'," the deputy grumbled.
Later on, in the privacy of their own shack, Green enlightened him. "Yu see, Pete," he argued. "Yu don't blame a gun for killin', yu blame the fella who pulls the trigger. This Adam jasper was just a gun, an' though I'm holdin' he warn't fit to go on livin', it's the man who used him who oughta be lyin' out there."
"Mebbe yo're right," the deputy conceded. "I'm just .is pleased things worked out as they did. Chewin' over these here fine distinctions'll end one day in yore bein' described as 'the late lamented.'"
CHAPTER XVIII
During the next few days Green, in accordance with his resolution, made discreet enquiries regarding Potter. The result was meagre. Residing in a room at the back of his premises, he had remained an Easterner in speech and habits, taking no part in the activities of the town other than his business demanded. So that it was a surprise to the marshal, sitting alone in his office one evening, when the banker opened the door and slipped quietly in.
"Evening, marshal," he said. "Am I disturbing you?" Green assured him that he was not and invited him to take a seat. He noticed that the visitor selected a position where he could not be seen from the window, and that his hands were trembling.
"Marshal," he began, "I hope you will not be offended, but I've been studying you rather closely since you came here and I've decided that you are to be trusted. Believing that, I am going to depend on you in a matter of the greatest importance to me." He drew out a long, sealed envelope. "I want you to take charge of this, hide it, and give me your word that it shall not be opened until the breath is out of my body. It is of no interest to any save one man, and he would sell his soul to destroy it. Should he learn it is in your possession he would slay you without hesitation, and--the contents of that envelope are my death-warrant also. I felt it only fair to tell you this, marshal, although it may mean refusal."
His voice shook on the last few words, and there was eagerness in his eyes as he awaited the other's decision.
"I ain't refusin', Mr. Potter," Green said. "I'll take yore envelope, an' no one shall see or hear of it again till yu are beyond human hurt. That's what yu want, ain't it?" The banker nodded, a look of relief on his face. The marshal hesitated for a moment and then added, "Yu got any reason to think yu are in danger?"
"I can't tell you another word, marshal," the banker replied, as he rose and held out his hand. "I am deeply obliged to you."
After the visitor had gone Green looked at the envelope, but it was a plain one and told him nothing. That the maker of this strange request was in deadly fear was very evident, but why? With a shrug of his shoulders he set about the task of concealing the envelope. Wrapped in a piece of an old slicker, he buried it beneath his bed, stamping the earth flat again to remove any signs of disturbance.
"If what Potter says is right it'll be like sleepin' over a keg o' giant powder," he reflected grimly. "Well, I reckon that won't ruin my rest anyways."
* * *
Andy Bordene rode into Lawless with a light heart and let out a whoop of delight when he saw the marshal and his deputy talking to Raven just outside the bank. Leaping down, he greeted the officers joyously, but his manner towards the saloonkeeper was more distant.
"'Lo, Andy, so yu fetched 'em through this time?" Green said.
"Yu betcha--no trouble a-tall," the young man replied. "An' I sold well too; I got over thirty thousand in my clothes an' I'm a-goin' to talk turkey to Potter an' get my ranch back right now."
"Good for yu," the marshal said. "No time like--hell! here comes a gent in a hurry."
At the eastern end of the street, a buckboard, drawn by two wild-eyed, maddened ponies rocketed into view. The driver, a short and very fat man, was urging his team both with tongue and whip to greater efforts, despite the fact that nearly every jolt of the swaying, lurching vehicle threated to fling him into the rutty road. Andy needed only one look.
"I'm an Injun if it ain't Reub Sarel," he explained. "What's broke loose now?"
With a string of expletives which would have aroused the envy of even a talented mule-skinner the driver of the buck-board flung his weight on the lines and dragged the ponies to a standstill by main force. His appearance bore testimony to the urgency of his errand. Coatless, hatless, shirt torn open at the throat, his fleshy face grimed with dust and sweat, he was hardly to be recognized as the indolent manager of the Double S. Flinging down reins and whip, he fell rather than stepped out of the conveyance, gulped once, and then said huskily:
"Marshal, they got Tonia. She went for a ride yestiddy an' didn't come home. I sent the boys out to comb the country, an' this mornin' early they found her hoss--shot. There warn't no sign of her. I left the boys searchin' an' come for help. I'm guessin' that damned Greaser has nabbed her."
"By God! if Moraga has dared to lay a finger on her I'll tear him in strips," Andy swore. "Guns an' hosses, marshal; we'll get that coyote if we have to foller him clear across Mexico."
Green was watching Raven. At the first mention of the Mexican the man's sallow face had gone paler and his little black eyes had gleamed with sudden anger. Now he turned to the officer and spoke, his voice charged with venom:
"If it's Moraga, get him, marshal," he rasped. "Spare no effort or expense. I'd come with yu, but I'm no good with a gun, I'd only be a hindrance. Kill the dirty cur. Bring the girl back an' yu can name yore own reward. Sabe?"
There was no mistaking his sincerity. For some reason which the marshal could not fathom the disappearance of Tonia had stirred unsuspected depths in the saloon-keeper.
"We'll find her," Green said, and turned to Bordene. "Better hurry up yore business with Potter."