Brick interrupted with a bitter curse. 'Can't you get it through yore thick head, you numskull, that they're fixing to put us all in the pen? We've got to blot them out — and quick.'
Nuney shook his head obstinately. 'Count me out. I won't do it.'
'It's got to be that way, Bill,' Cash said, in a voice that was almost pleading. 'I don't like it any more than you do. But we've got to stick together. These fellows butted in and asked for it. What else can we do?' He answered his own question. 'Not a thing. It's neck meat or nothing. Either these two fellows go, or the whole caboodle of us get sent up for long terms.'
A big bull-necked fellow with buck teeth rose from the bed on which he was sitting. 'Hell, we got no time to chew the fat. I'm not so choosy. I'll go with Doc' He pulled up halfway across the room, stung by suspicion. 'Why don't we all go? Do you fellows aim to sit here on yore fannies while we do the dirty work?'
'We've got to guard both roads out of town, and we have no time to lose, like Buck says.' The eyes of Polk took a quick census. There were seven of them in the room — Mullins, Fenwick, Buck, Nuney, Doc, Carlos Vallejo, and himself. The truck drivers had headed for home to have their vehicles out of the danger zone before morning. Chad made the eighth. Cash appointed Brick and Mullins to hold the road at the north end of town, while he and Nuney took the south exit. Vallejo, Buck, Doc, and Chad would cover the district in the heart of town near Stevens's car.
'You picked yoreself a soft spot, Cash,' taunted Fenwick. 'Those fellows won't try to go south, and you know it. But what's the use of gassing? Let's go get 'em.' He stopped in front of Nuney. 'I'll see you later, Mr. Quitter. There can't anybody throw me down and get away with it.'
'I'll be waiting at the gate, Brick,' promised Nuney. 'Just tell me where and when,'
They scattered in front of their hotel to cover the assignments allotted them. Carlos walked beside Nuney, of whom he was very fond. Jim had once saved him from a beating at the hands of a big drunken teamster.
'Are you going through with this, Jim?' the Mexican asked in a low voice.
'I don't know.' Nuney was troubled. This was what came of taking the first wrong step. He had not expected to be called on to do murder. Yet how could he escape it without throwing down his companions? 'I wish to God I had never let myself into a jam like this.'
'Maybe it will work out okey,' Carlos said. 'Some of the others may see them first.'
Nuney shook his head. 'We're all in it, no matter who fires the shots. Unless—'
'Vamonos,' murmured Carlos. 'Muy pronto.'
Their eyes met. 'When we reach the alley,' Nuney said.
The man Chad came forward to meet them from the alley entrance where he had been lurking. 'What's cooking?' he asked.
Polk explained to him what had occurred at the Gibson pens and the decision to which they had come. Chad was a bulky man with a brutal face in which small pale eyes were set too close. Jim Nuney thought that it would not disturb him to do murder if it served his interest.
'If they came back to town from the packing plant, they must still be here,' Chad said. 'And if they are, we finish this business tonight. Me, I do not like prison. I was in one two years. That is enough. Let us stop the clock of these meddlesome fools.'
'Afraid we must,' Polk agreed, with his usual apparent reluctance. 'We'd better be going, Jim.'
'I told you I wasn't in this, Cash,' Nuney said. 'That still goes.'
'But you can't desert now.' Polk's voice was shrill with anxiety. He did not like the job set him. A cold, sinking feeling had settled in his stomach. 'We're trapped and have to fight our way out, every last one of us.'
'Carlos and I don't go for murder, and that is what this is,' Nuney answered. 'This is where we beat it.'
'Not on yore life, you rat!' Chad cried. 'You'll stay with us, dead or alive.'
His revolver jumped out, a fraction of a second before the rifle of Nuney. Swiftly Polk's hands closed on the hairy wrist of Chad. 'For God's sake, don't!' he screamed, flinging his weight on the man's arm to push it down. 'We'll settle this later. Just now we've got to get Stevens.'
Carlos stood beside his friend, an automatic in his fingers. 'Si — si, Chad. Take it easy, amigo,' he warned.
'We're not going to rat on you,' Nuney explained. 'We're getting out of the country. What's the sense of getting deeper into trouble? It would be smart for all of you to take it on the lam for Mexico.'
Polk was still struggling to hold the wrist of Chad when Nuney and Carlos backed into the alley and ran.
CHAPTER 30
A Better Mouse Trap
AS HAL DROVE down the hill from the Hunter place, Arnold gave an exclamation of annoyance.
'I left the rifle we took from Mullins standing in the hall,' he said. 'Clean forgot it when we went to the garage the back way.'
'Hope we won't need it, Ranny,' his friend said. 'What I crave is peace and plenty of it. My idea of heaven just now is a round-the-clock sleep in a comfortable bed.'
They had decided to head north for Tucson, but abruptly Hal changed his mind. Just before he struck the main highway, he caught sight of two men ducking from the pavement to cover back of some bushes on a lawn. Hal swung the wheel to the right and headed in the opposite direction. One of the men was Brick Fenwick.
A bullet struck a back wheel fender and caromed off to lodge in the trunk of a cottonwood. A second missed Arnold's neck by inches.
'Get your head down,' Hal snapped.
'They must have men posted ahead of us,' Arnold said. 'Do we give her the gas and try to run the gantlet?'
On each side of them was a solid block of stores. At the next intersection they could turn right or left and get off the main business street. But if they did this, the road would not take them out of town, since it ran only through the residence district.
Already they could see men racing toward them. Arnold became aware that the car was losing speed rapidly.
'What's the matter?' he asked.
'Engine not getting any gas.' Hal glanced at the register. 'Tank empty.'
He cut to the left and jammed on the hand brake. They flung themselves out of the car and ran down the side street. Halfway down the block were some lots filled with used automobiles. Arnold bolted through the gate to find cover. An old sedan carried a sign chalked on its windshield,' For Sale, $250.' He tried to wrench open the door, but found it locked. They crouched between two lumbering limousines of ancient vintage.
The lots were enclosed by high adobe walls on three sides. A plank fence was the front boundary. Back of the rear wall stood a rooming house which faced the adjoining street. One glance showed that there was no exit except the one through which they had come.
'This looks like one of the better mouse traps,' Hal drawled. 'I hope too many men won't beat a path to the door this morning.'
It was odd, Arnold thought later, that with danger pressing so closely there should jump to his mind a memory of old football games when Hal would drop whimsical remarks as he was being dragged up from the mud with the ball after half the opposing team had tackled him.
By craning forward, Hal could see four or five men gathered around the car at the intersection. Raised voices came to him.
'They ran down this street!' one cried.
'No time for them to reach the next corner,' another answered. 'They must be in the used car lot.'
There was the slap of running feet. Another man joined the group.
'We've got 'em cornered,' the first speaker told him. 'They can't get away.'
A derisive laugh followed. Fenwick, Hal guessed. A moment later he knew he was right. 'If you've got them sewed up so nice, go in and collect them, Ed,' his gibing voice suggested.