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  CHAPTER XVIII

  DEHORNED

  Miranda Bailey had offered to come in for Westlake with her car, but thetrain went early and he had refused. Molly drove him in the buckboard,his grips stowed behind, and Sandy saw them go with the old light backin his eyes. He gave Westlake a grip of the hand that made him wince.

  "Bring her out to the Three Star sometime," he told him. "Mind if I tellSam and Mormon, Westlake? They'll sure be tickled."

  "I'd like them to know. And we'll come, when we can. Maybe we'll findyou coupled by that time, Sandy. All three of you. And I hope we'll findMolly here."

  "I hope so." Sandy fancied the last sentence more than casual.

  "You can rely upon my information being correct," were Westlake's lastwords, spoken aside before he climbed into the buckboard and Mollyflirted the reins over the backs of the team shooting off at top speed.

  Sandy's mood had changed. He was in high fettle as he watched them go.The rider who was breaking horses for the Three Star surrendered his jobthat morning to the "old man."

  Molly came back a little before noon, her eyes wide with excitement.

  "Mr. Keith's in town," she said. "With Donald and his secretary, Mr.Blake. He asked me if Mr. Westlake had been here and he seemed annoyedwhen I told him I had just seen him off on the train. They all came fromCasey Town in the big car. Has there been any trouble between Mr. Keithand Mr. Westlake?"

  "The South American offer is a better chance than Casey Town," answeredSandy. "Mr. Keith may have been annoyed about that. His boy's along, yousay? Is he comin' oveh to the ranch?"

  "Yes. He wanted to come with me, to drive me out in the car, but I hadthe buckboard and I'd rather drive horses any day. So he'll be out alittle later to take up your invitation. Mr. Keith has some business inHereford. He and Mr. Blake will stay on their private car. He told me totell you he would be out to-morrow to see you. Oh, here's a telegram foryou."

  "Thanks." Sandy tucked the envelope in his pocket. "Hop out, Molly, an'I'll put up the team."

  "I'll help you. I haven't forgotten how to unhitch." Her nimble fingersworked as fast as Sandy's with buckles, coiling traces and loopingreins. She led the team off to the drinking trough and fed each anapple, with Sandy looking at her, registering the picture that made suchstrong appeal.

  "Goin' to take Donald Keith out fo' a real ride on a real hawss?" heasked her.

  "Yes. To-morrow. He's keen to go. You'll come. And Sam and Kate?"

  "I've got a hunch I'm goin' to be busy ter-morrer. Keith's comin', fo'one thing."

  "I forgot. I wish you could come." The passing shadow on her face wassunshine to Sandy. Molly went into the house and he opened the telegram.It was from Brandon, as he expected.

  Thanks. Coming immediately. Was starting anyway. That trap worked. May need horses for eight. Will you arrange?

  BRANDON.

  "It sure looks like a busy day ter-morrer," Sandy said half aloud."Keith and Brandon--which means roundin' up Jim Plimsoll. Sam don't getto any picnic, either. He'll have to 'tend to the hawsses."

  The Keith touring car arrived in mid-afternoon with young Keith at thewheel, the chauffeur beside him, grips in the tonneau. Donald Keithjumped out, affable, a little inclined to condescension at first towardeverything connected with the ranch, including Kate Nicholson. Theimperturbable driver left with the car. Young Keith's snobbery wore offas he inspected the corrals and the stock with eager interest and theriders with a certain measure of awe, which he transferred to Sandy onlearning that he had broken two colts that morning.

  "If they're broken, I must be all apart," he said, watching them plungewildly about the corral at the sight of visitors. "I'd hate to try toride one of them in Central Park. If I could stick on I'd be pinched forendangering the public. Wish I could have seen you bu'st them."

  "There'll be mo' of it befo' you leave," said Sandy. His mood of themorning held. His generosity of feeling toward Keith's boy did notlessen when he saw how much the elder of the two Molly appeared. Theyoungster was spoiled, probably selfish, but he was distinctly likable.

  "Know what time yore father expects to be out?" Sandy asked him, later.

  "He didn't say. He's got some business to attend to. Some time in theforenoon, I imagine. I know he's figuring on getting back to Casey Townto-night. Molly, you haven't taken me out to see your father's grave.Won't you? You promised to." Sandy liked the lad for that. But it didnot ameliorate his attitude toward the visit of Keith Senior.

  That worthy arrived after lunch had been cleared the next day. KateNicholson busied herself to wait deferentially upon him and hissecretary, the fox-faced Blake. Keith was brisk and brusk, breathingprosperity.

  "I was detained in Hereford, Bourke," he said. "I haven't much time foranything but a flying visit. I promised Mrs. Keith I'd come over thefirst opportunity, and I wanted to see you. Donald's out with Molly, yousay. I'll leave him with you on your invitation and pick him up when wego back east. That will be in about a week. Sooner than I expected. I'dlike to spare a day to look over the ranch. I've heard fine things aboutit."

  "Thanks," drawled Sandy laconically. "Glad to have a talk with you. Sam,Mr. Blake might like to see the hawsses gentled that came up thismo'nin'."

  Keith raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Leaving Blake, Sandy ledKeith to his office, rolled a cigarette, offered a chair to his visitorand smoked, waiting for the latter to open the talk.

  "There are some papers for you to examine, as Molly's guardian," saidKeith. "But Blake has them."

  "We'll take them up later. Anythin' else?"

  Keith looked sharply at Sandy's face. There was a certain grimness to itthat reminded the promoter of the first time he had seen it. His ownchanged to a mask, expressionless, save for his eyes, holding suspicionthat changed to aggressiveness. But the latter did not show in his voicewhich was smooth and ingratiating.

  "Nothing of great importance. I hear Westlake has been over here,Bourke. We had a misunderstanding. Sorry to lose him, since yourecommended him."

  "He figgers he has a better job," answered Sandy.

  "I'm glad he thinks so. He is young and lacks experience. His opinionclashed with that of my engineer-in-charge, an expert of high standing.Westlake was hot-headed and would not brook being overruled. There is nodoubt but that he was mistaken. He is a valuable man, under a superior,but he is intolerant."

  "He didn't strike me that way," said Sandy. "Me, I set a good deal onhis opinion."

  "I didn't imagine you knew much about mining, Bourke." Keith looked athis watch. "I'll really have to be going as soon as you have looked overthose papers. Hadn't we better call Blake?"

  Sandy looked out of the window. He saw Miranda Bailey's flivver haltingby the big car, Mormon walking toward her, and wondered what had broughther over. So far he had not got the opening he wanted, unless he took updefense of Westlake more forcibly to introduce the matter. He wasinclined to suggest a trip for himself to Casey Town to inspect the minein company with Keith that night, but the coming of Brandon hamperedhim. He wanted to be on hand for that. Then he saw Mormon leave Mirandaand come toward the office, bowling along at top speed.

  "Excuse me a minute, Keith," he said. "My partner wants to see me."

  Keith's face wore a scowl as Sandy stepped outside. His conscience wasnot entirely clear and he did not like the general atmosphere of theoffice. He scented antagonism in this rancher who called him Keithwithout the prefix. It was all right for him to omit it, but.... He tookout a cigar, bit off the end savagely and lit it.

  "Mirandy wants to see you," panted Mormon. "She's found out somethin'about Keith that sure shows his play. He's been discardin'!"

  The Keith chauffeur had wandered off to the corrals where Sam wasshowing Blake around. Miranda handed Sandy a long envelope.

  "Hen Collins had an accident last night," she said. "Blew a tire on thebridge by our place an' smashed through the railin'. Bu'sted a rib ortwo an' was knocked out. We took him in. I'm sorry for Hen but
it surewas a lucky accident. You see, Keith told him to keep quiet but Hen wasgrateful to Ed fo' takin' him in an' puttin' him to bed an' sendin' fo'the doctor. Don't open that envellup, that Keith weasel might belookin'. I reckon you'll want to spring it on him sudden."

  "Sure," said Sandy. "Spring what?"

  "I'm flustered," admitted Miranda. "I usually talk straight. Now I'llstart to the beginnin'. When Keith arrived on this trip he held quite areception in his private car. Ed was there with the rest. He invitedthem up fo' cigars. Talked big about Casey Town an' gen'ally pattedhimself on the back. Said it was too bad all the stock of the Mollywasn't held in locally, but of co'se the pore promoter had to havesomethin' fo' his money. He was real affable. Ben Creel asked him if hedidn't want to sell some of his Molly stock an' they all laffed.

  "This time, when he come back yesterday, he brings up the subject ag'in.He, an' that secretary of his who looks like a coyote. I don't know howmany he saw or jest what he said, but this is what he told Hen. Afterhe'd got Hen to lead up to it, mind you. That Casey Town was boomin' bigan' that his own holdin's was nettin' him a heap. That he liked Henfine an' had picked him out as a representative citizen. With a lot mo'slush, the upshot of which was that he lets him have a hundred shares ofthe Molly Mine at par. Hen was to say nothin' about it because, saysKeith, if it got out he was sellin' stock, it would send down the priceof the shares an' hurt Casey Town in general, Hereford some, an' you-allat the Three Star in partickler. I reckon he was plausible enough. Henwas sure tickled. He w'udn't have said a word about it on'y Ed picksthese shares up out of the bed of the crick an' give them to Hen aftehhe'd been fixed up.

  "Ed went nosin' around Hereford this mo'nin'. He got eight men--theirnames is inside the envelope--Creel one of 'em--to admit they'd boughtsome shares. Mighty glad they was to have 'em. Ed didn't tell 'emanything different, but he come scootin' home at noon an' I borrowedHen's certificut, seein' he was asleep. An' here it is."

  "Mirandy," said Sandy, "I'll let Mormon tell you what we all think ofyou. You've sure dealt me an ace. Mormon, help Sam ride herd on thesecretary. I'll be callin' you in after a bit. You'll stay, Mirandy?"

  "I'll go visit with Kate Nicholson. I'm beginnin' to like her real well.Molly away?"

  Sandy left Mormon to tell her and returned to the office. Keith eyed theenvelope.

  "Blake coming?" he asked.

  "Not yet. When do we get another dividend from the Molly, Keith?"

  Keith laughed.

  "You're as bad as all the others," he said. "Sell a man stock, give hima dividend and he's like a girl eating candy. You had one just fourteenweeks ago."

  Sandy nodded.

  "I was askin' you about the _next_," he said, his voice still drawlingbut with a finer edge to it.

  "Needing some ready money?"

  "How about the dividend?"

  "Why, that depends upon the output." Keith's voice purred but his eyeshad narrowed. He watched Sandy like a card player who begins to thinkhis opponent superior to first impressions. "The output has been big.The Molly has been a bonanza, so far. I do not think it wise always topay dividends according to the immediate production, however. It isbetter, as a rule, to average it, generally to develop the mine as awhole rather than work the first rich veins."

  "That why you boarded up the stopes?"

  Keith's face grew dark. The veins twitched at his temples.

  "Look here, Bourke," he blustered. "You've been listening to some fooltalk from that cub, Westlake. I know my business. You've got some stockin the mine, twenty-five per cent. I've put money and brains into it andI've got forty-nine per cent. Molly...."

  "If you _had_ fo'ty-nine per cent. I wouldn't be worryin' so much."

  "What the devil do you mean?"

  "I took you fo' a betteh gambler than to git mad," said Sandy. "I'lljest ask you a question on behalf of myse'f an' partners' twenty-fiveper cent., an' Molly's twenty-six, me bein' her guardian. Plump an'plain, is the Molly pinched out?"

  Keith hesitated, struggled to control himself.

  "Save me a trip over to Casey Town, mebbe," Sandy added.

  "I got mad just now, Bourke, because of the interference of a man Ifired for lack of common sense, experience and recognition of hissuperiors. Westlake is a hot-head and I suppose he has some idea oftrying to get even with me by belittling me in your eyes and runningdown my management. I think I have shown my interests allied with yours.Mrs. Keith and I."

  "She don't come into this. You didn't answer my question, Keith. Howabout it?"

  "It's a damned falsehood."

  "Then why are you sellin' your stock?"

  The words came like bullets as Sandy whipped the certificate out of theenvelope and slapped it smartly on the desk. Keith whitened, flushedagain, recovered himself.

  "If I was not friendly to you, Bourke, I should take that as a directinsult. I can understand that you believe in Westlake and take stock inwhat he told you. But he is a discharged employee. He has everyreason...."

  Sandy held up his hand.

  "He's a friend of mine," he said. "Keith, I may not know the minin'game--as you play it. In some ways it's gamblin', like playin' poker.I've played that a heap. I can tell pritty well when a man's bluffin'.Mebbe you're losin' some of yore nerve lately. You show it in yore face.Yore eyes flickered when you said it was a 'damned falsehood.' I don'thanker to insult a man but--I don't believe you. An' here's this stockyou sold. I've got the names of more you sold it to. Why?"

  "A man in my position," said Keith slowly, "swings many big deals andsometimes he is pushed for ready money."

  "I reckon that's the reason," said Sandy dryly. "Well, you've got to gitit some other way. You've got to buy these stocks back, Keith. I controlthe big end of the stock in the Molly. If I have to go to the bother ofgittin' an expert of my own, an' goin' to Casey Town to look back ofthose stopes, you're goin' to be sorry fo' it."

  "I have a right to sell my stock."

  "You ain't goin' to exercise that right, Keith. You may make a businesssellin' chances to folks who like to buy 'em, but you can't sellHerefo'd folks paper when they think they're buyin' gold. I won't buncomy neighbors an' I ain't goin' to 'low you to do it with any propositionI'm interested in. You'll give me the money you got fo' the shares witha list of the men you sold 'em to an' I'll tell 'em the Molly is pinchedout--as it is."

  "You must be crazy, man! They wouldn't believe you. If you went roundwith a statement like that you'd lose every cent of your own and yourward's. You have no right...."

  "Trouble is with you, you don't know the meanin' of that last word,"said Sandy. "Right is jest what I aim to do. We'll put it up to Mollyan' you'll see where she stands. We don't do business out west the wayyou do. We don't rob our friends or even try an' run a razoo onstrangehs. I reckon the folks'll believe me. If they don't I'll give 'emstock of ours, share fo' share, to convince 'em until it's known theMolly has flivvered."

  "You'll ruin the whole camp."

  "Not to my mind. They'll git out what gold's left The Molly'll shutdown. I'll git you to give me a statement 'long with the money an' thelist fo' me to check up, sayin' you've jest had news the vein haspetered out sudden--like it has. That's lettin' you down easy. They'llthink you an honorable man 'stead of a bunco-steerer. I'm doin' this'count of the fact you folks have looked out fo' Molly. An' I'm tellin'you, Keith, that, if Herefo'd folks knew you'd deliberately sold themrotten stock, you an' yore private car might suffer consid'rable damagebefo' you got away. Out west folks still git riled over trick plays an'holdouts, hawss-stealin' an' otheh deals that ain't square. I'd sureadvise you to come across."

  Keith looked into the face of Sandy and, briefly, into his eyes, hard assteel. He made one more attempt.

  "Let's talk common sense, Bourke. You're quixotic. The Molly iscapitalized for a quarter of a million dollars. The stock can be sold atpar if it's done quietly. I can dispose of it for you. There is nocertainty that the mine will not produce richly when we strike throughthe second level
of porphyry. There are plenty of people willing to buyshares on that chance after the showing already made. I tried to sayjust now that you have no right to throw away your ward's money, and youare a fool to throw away your own. People buy stock as a gamble."

  "No sense in you talkin' any mo' that way, Keith. Mebbe you sell paperto folks who gamble on it, an' on what you tell 'em about the chances,makin' yore story gold-colored. Folks may like to git somethin' fo' nex'to nothin', but I won't sell 'em nothin' fo' somethin', neitheh will mypartners, neitheh will Molly Casey. She's a western gel. Above all, Iwon't gold-brick my friends. I know the mine is petered out. You won'tcall my play about havin' an expert examine it, which same is no bluff.I believe in Westlake's report. We've had our share of the gold in itan', we won't sell the dirt. No mo' w'ud Pat Casey, lyin' out there bythe spring, if he was alive."

  "Suppose I refuse?" asked Keith, his square face obstinate. "I've donenothing outside the law."

  "To hell with that kind of law! We make laws of our own out here once ina while. Justice is what we look fo', not law. We aim to trail straight.I reckon you'll come through. Fo' one thing I expect to have yore boyvisit with us till you do."

  The promoter's face twisted uglily and he lost control of himself.

  "Kidnapping? A western method of justice. Not the first time you've beenmixed up in it either, from what I hear. You don't dare...."

  Keith stopped abruptly. Sandy had not moved, but his eyes, fromresembling orbs of chilled steel, seemed suddenly to throw off the blazeand heat of the molten metal.

  "Fo' a promoter yo're a mighty pore judge of men," he said. "I'm warnin'you not to ride any further along that trail. Yore son can stay here, orwe can tell the Herefo'd folk what you've tried to hand to them. Yo'reapt to look like a buzzard that's fallen into a tar barrel after theygit through with you, Keith. Trouble with you is that you've beenbullin' the market an' havin' it yore own way too long. Now you see ab'ar on the horizon, you don't like the view.

  "When we bring up stock fo' shipment we sometimes have trouble with thelonghorns. We've got a dehornin' machine fo' them. That's yore trubble,so fur as this locality is concerned. You need dehornin'. I can find outwho you sold stock to easy enough, but I don't care to waste the time.An' if I do there'll be more publicity about it than you'd care fo'.Might even git back to New Yo'k. I'm givin' you the easy end of it,Keith, 'count of Molly. You an' me can ride into town in yore car an'clean this all up befo' the bank closes. We'll leave the money withCreel of the Herefo'd National. Then you can come back an' git yoreboy."

  "I don't remember the names. Blake took the record of them," said Keithsullenly.

  "Then we'll have him in."

  Sandy went to the door and hailed Sam and Mormon. They came to theoffice escorting Blake, whose fox-face moved from side to side withfurtive eyes as if he smelled a trap.

  "We want the list of the folks you unloaded Molly stock to," said Sandy.

  Blake looked at his employer who sat glowering at his cigar end, lickedhis lips and said nothing.

  "Speak up," said Sandy.

  "There's a fine patch of prickly pear handy," suggested Sam. "Fine fo'restorin' the voice. Last time we chucked a tenderfoot in there they hadto peel the shirt off of him in strips." He took the secretary by oneelbow, Mormon by the other, both grinning behind his back as he shookwith a sudden palsy in the belief that they meant their threat.

  "Tell him, you damned fool!" grunted Keith.

  "The stubs are in the car at Hereford depot," said Blake. "In the safe."

  "Money there too? I suppose you cashed the checks?"

  "I deposited them to my own account," said Keith. "Come on, let's getthis over with since you are determined to throw away your own and yourpartners' good money, to say nothing of the girl's. She could bring suitagainst you, Bourke, with a good chance of winning."

  He glanced hopefully at Mormon and Sam. They kept on grinning.

  "Round up that chauffeur, Sam, will you?" asked. Sandy. "Tell him we'restartin' fo' Herefo'd right off. You an' me can go over those accountsof Molly's same time we attend to the other business, Keith."

  They went outside, Blake looking anxious and a trifle bewildered, Keiththrowing away his cigar and lighting a new one, his face sullen with therage he dammed. Kate Nicholson and Miranda Bailey were on theranch-house veranda.

  "Could I ask you to mail these letters, Mr. Keith? Two of Molly's andone of my own." Kate Nicholson advanced toward him, the letters in hand.With a spurt of fury Keith snatched at the letters and threw them on theground.

  "To hell with you!" he shouted, his face empurpled. "You're fired!" Allof his polish stripped from him like peeling veneer, he appeared merelya coarse bully.

  Sam came up the veranda in two jumps and a final leap that left him withhis hands entwined in Keith's coat collar. He whirled that astoundedperson half around and slammed him up against the wall of theranch-house, rumpled, gasping, with trembling hands that lifted beforethe menace of Sam's gun.

  "I oughter shoot the tongue out of you befo' I put a slug through yorehead," said Sam, standing in front of the promoter, tense as a jaguarcouched for a spring, his eyes glittering, his voice packed with venom."You git down on yo' knees, you ring-tailed skunk, an' apologize tothis lady. Crook yo' knees, you stinkin' polecat, an' crawl. I'll makeyou lick her shoes. Down with you or I'll send you straight tojudgment!"

  "No, Sam, Mr. Manning--it isn't necessary," protested Kate Nicholson."Please...."

  Sam looked at her cold-eyed.

  "This is my party," he said. "It'll do him good. I'll let him offlickin' yo' shoes, he might spile the leather. But he'll git themletters he chucked away, git 'em on all-fours, like the sneakin',slinkin', double-crossin' coyote he is. Crook yo' knees first an'apologize! I'll learn you a lesson right here an' now. You stay rightwhere you are, Kate. Let him come to you."

  Sam fired a shot and the promoter jumped galvanically as the bullet torethrough the planking of the ranch-house between his trembling knees.

  "I regret, Miss Nicholson," he commenced huskily, "that I let my temperget the better of me. I was greatly upset. In the matter of yourservices I was--er--doubtless hasty. It can be arranged."

  He shrank at the tap of Sam's gun on his shoulder, wilting to his knees.

  "She w'udn't work fo' you fo' the time it takes a rabbit to dodge arattler," said Sam. "She never did work fo' you. It was Molly's moneypaid her. Kate's goin' to stay right here as long as she chooses an'I...."

  Catching Kate Nicholson's gaze, the admiring look of a woman who hasnever before been championed, conscious of the fact that he had blurtedout her Christian name and disclosed the secret of that touch ofintimacy between them, Sam grew crimson through his tan. KateNicholson's face was rosy; both were embarrassed.

  "Thank you, Mr. Manning," she said. "Please let him get up, and put awayyour pistol."

  "Git up," said Sam, "an' go pick up them letters."

  Keith, humiliated before his secretary and his chauffeur, the lattergazing wooden-faced but making no attempt at interference, gathered upthe envelopes and presented them, with a bow, to the governess. He hadrecovered partial poise and his face was pale as wax, his eyes evil.

  "I'll mail them, Miss Nicholson," said Sandy. "Let's go." He took Samaside as the car swung round and up to the porch. "I'm obliged to you,Sam," he said. "It was sure comin' to him an' I've been havin' hard workto keep my hands off him. I've a notion he'll trail better now. IfBrandon arrives befo' we git back, look out fo' him. Mormon'll help youentertain."

  "Seguro," replied Sam. "Look at Keith. He looks like a rattler with hisfangs pulled. I'll bet he c'ud spit bilin' vitriol right now."

  "His cud ain't jest what he most fancies, this minute," said Sandydryly. "Sorter bitter to chew an' hard to swaller. Sammy," Sandy's voicechanged to affection, his eyes twinkled, "I didn't sabe you an' MissNicholson was so well acquainted."

  Sam looked his partner in the eyes and used almost the same words forwhich he had just tamed Keith. But
he said them with a smile.

  "You go plumb to hell!"

  * * * * *

  Creel, president of the Hereford National Bank, a banker keen at abargain, shot out his underlip when Keith, with Sandy in attendance,tendered him the money for all shares of the Molly Mine sold inHereford, including his own.

  "You say the mine has petered out?" he asked Keith, with palpablesuspicion. Keith glanced swiftly at Sandy sitting across the table fromhim in the little directors' room back of the bank proper. Sandy satsphinx-like. As if by accident, his hands were on his hips, the fingersresting on his gun butts. Keith did not actually fear gunplay, but hewas not sure of what Sandy might do. Sam's bullet, that had undoubtedlybeen sped in grim earnest, had unnerved him. Sandy Bourke held thewinning hand.

  "That is the news from my superintendent," said Keith. "I wish I coulddoubt it. Under the circumstances, consulting with Mr. Bourke, whorepresents the majority stock, we concluded there was no other actionfor us to take but to recall the shares although the money had actuallypassed. Naturally, in the refunding, which I leave entirely to you, itwould be wiser not to precipitate a general panic and to treat thematter with all possible secrecy."

  "Humph!" Keith's suavity did not appear entirely to smooth down Creel'schagrin at losing what he had considered a good thing. He smelt a mousesomewhere. "There are only two reasons for repurchasing such stock," hesaid crisply. "The course you take is rarely honorable and suggestsgreat credit. The second reason would be a strike of rich ore ratherthan a failure."

  "I will guarantee the failure, Creel," said Sandy. "If, at any time, astrike is made in the Molly, I shall be glad to transfer to youpersonally the same amount of shares from my own holdin's. I'll put thatin writin', if you prefer it."

  "No," said Creel, "it ain't necessary." He glumly made the retransfer.Sandy viseed Keith's accounts and took Keith's check for the balance,placing it to a personal account for Molly. The check was on theHereford Bank and it practically exhausted Keith's local resources.

  As they left the bank a cowboy rode up on a flea-bitten roan that waslathered with sweat, sadly roweled and leg-weary. Astride of it wasWyatt, riding automatically his eyes wide-opened, red-rimmed, owlishwith lack of sleep and overmuch bad liquor. Afoot he could hardly havenavigated, in the saddle he seemed comparatively sober. He spurred overto the big machine as Sandy and Keith got in to return to the ranch,sweeping his sombrero low in an ironical bow.

  "Evenin', gents," he greeted them, his voice husky, inclined tohiccough. "This here is one hell of a town, Bourke! They've took away myguns an' told me to be good, they're sellin' doughnuts an' buttermilkdown to Regan's old joint, popcorn an' sody-water over to PapGleason's! Me, I tote my own licker an' they don't take that off 'n myhip. You don't want a good man out to the Three Star, Bourke?"

  "I never saw a real good man the shape you're in, Wyatt. Sober up an'I'll talk to you."

  Wyatt leaned from the saddle and held on to the side of the machine withone hand, his alcohol-varnished eyes boring into Sandy's with the fixityof drink-madness.

  "Why in hell would I sober up?" he demanded. "Plimsoll, the lousy swine,he stole my gal, God blast him! He drove me off'n the Waterline, him an'the ones that hang with him. I'd like to see him hang. I'd like to seethe eyes stickin' out of his head an' his tongue stickin' out of hislyin' jaws! I'm gettin' even with Jim Plimsoll fo' what he done to me."Wyatt's eyes suddenly ran over with tears of self-pity. "Blast him tohell!" he cried. "Watch my smoke!" He withdrew his hand and galloped upthe street as Keith's car started.

  The powerful engine made nothing of the few miles between Hereford andthe Three Star and it was only mid-afternoon when they arrived. Mollyand Donald Keith were still absent, there was no sign of Brandon. Sandyfancied that any wait would not be especially congenial to Keith, butthe promoter was firm in his determination to take away his son from theranch. While his resentment could find no outlet, it was plain that heand his were through with any one connected with the Three Star brand.

  Acting without any thought of this, save as it simmered subconsciously,Sandy rejoiced that Molly would now stay. He intended to give her openchoice--there was money enough left, aside from the capital used on theThree Star, to send her back east for a completion of education. Or topay Miss Nicholson for remaining as educator. He surmised that Sam wouldpersuade Kate Nicholson to stay in any event. Molly, returned, appearedso much the woman, that the question of further schooling seemedsuperfluous to Sandy. He felt that it would to her, especially after hehad told her all that had occurred since morning. That she would approvehe had no doubt. Molly was true blue as her eyes. Altogether, Sandyconsidered the petering out of the Molly Mine far from being a disaster.And, if Molly stayed west--for keeps--?

  * * * * *

  Keith stayed in his car, smoking, ignoring the very existence of theranch and its people. The afternoon wore on with the sun droppinggradually toward the last quarter of the day's march. At four o'clockone of the Three Star riders came in at a gallop, carrying double.Behind him, clinging tight, was Donald Keith, woebegone, almostexhausted, his trim riding clothes snagged and soiled, his shiningputtees scuffed and scratched. He staggered as he slid out of the saddleand clung to the cantle, head sunk on arms until Sandy took him by thearm. Keith sprang from his car and came over. Sam and Mormon hurried up.

  "What's this?" demanded Keith angrily, suspicion rife in his voice.

  "I picked him up three mile' back, hoofin' it. He was headin' fo' BitterFlats but he wanted the ranch," said the cowboy to Sandy, ignoringKeith. "We burned wind an' leather comin' in, seein' Jim Plimsoll an'some of his gang have made off with Miss Molly!"

  "Where'd this happen?" demanded Sandy. "Sam, go git Pronto fo' me an'saddle up."

  "That's the hell of it," said the rider. "The pore damn fool don't know.Plumb loco! Scared to death. Been wanderin' round sence afore noon."

  Donald Keith sagged suddenly and Sandy picked the lad up in his arms.Weariness and fright, thirst, the changed altitude, had overtoiled hisendurance. Sandy strode with him to the car and laid him on thecushions.

  "Git some water," he ordered Keith. "We've got no licker on the ranch.Here's one of the times Prohibition an' me don't hitch."

  Keith bent, opened a shallow drawer beneath the seat and produced asilver flask. He unscrewed the top and poured some liquor into it. Itwas Scotch whisky of a pre-war vintage. The aroma of the stuff dissolvedin the rare air, vaguely scenting it. The nose of the wooden-facedchauffeur wrinkled. Sandy raised the boy's head and lifted the whisky tohis pallid lips, gray as his face where the flesh matched the powderyalkali that covered it.

  "Pinch his nose," he said to Keith. "He's breathin' regular. Stroke histhroat soon as I git the stuff back of his teeth. So. Now then."

  The cordial trickled down and Donald's eyes opened. Almost immediatelycolor came back into his cheeks and lips and he tried to sit up. Sandyhelped him.

  "Now, sonny," he said. "Tell us about it. How'd this happen an' where?An' when, if you can place that?"

  Donald nodded.

  "Just a second," he whispered and closed his eyes. They were bright whenhe raised the lids again.

  "Whisky got me going," he said. "I'd have given a whole lot for thatflask two or three hours ago, Dad."

  "Never mind the whisky, where did you leave Molly?" demanded Sandy.

  "I don't know just where. I wasn't noticing just which way we rode. Shedid the leading. I don't know how I ever got back."

  "Didn't she tell you where you were makin' fo'?"

  "She didn't name it. It was a little lake in some canyon where Molly saidthere used to be beavers."

  "Beaver Dam Canyon," said Sandy exultantly. "You left here 'bout seven.How fast did you trail?"

  "We walked the horses most of the time. It was all up-hill. And I lookedat my watch a little before it happened. It was a quarter of eleven.Molly said we'd be there by noon."

  "Where were you then? What kin
d of a place? Near water?"

  "We'd just crossed a stream."

  "Willer Crick, runs out of Beaver Dam Lake. You c'udn't foller that up,'count of the falls. Now, jest what happened?"

  "We saw some men ahead of us. Molly wondered who they could be. Thenthey disappeared. We were riding in a pass and two of them showed again,coming out of the trees ahead of us. One of them, on a big black horse,held up his hand."

  "Jim Plimsoll!"

  "Yes. Molly recognized him and she spoke to him to get out of the trail.It was brush and cactus either side of us and we'd have had to crowd in.Grit was trailing us. Plimsoll wouldn't move. I heard more horses backof us and I turned to look. Two more men were coming up behind. They hadrifles. So did the man with Plimsoll. He had a pistol under his vest. Wecouldn't go back very well and I could see from the way Plimsoll grinnedthat he was going to be nasty. Molly spurred Blaze on and cut atPlimsoll with her quirt. He grabbed her hand with his left. Grit sprangup at him and he got out his gun from the shoulder sling and shot him."

  "Shot the dawg? Hit him?"

  "Yes, in the leg. He fired at him again, but Grit got into the brush."

  "Jest what were you doin' all the time?" Sandy knew the lad was atenderfoot, knew he would have been small use on such an occasion, butthe thought of Grit rising to the rescue, falling back shot, brought thetaunt.

  "The two men behind told me to throw up my hands," said young Keith, hisface reddening. "What could I do?"

  "Nothin', son. You c'udn't have done a thing. Go on."

  "Plimsoll twisted Molly's wrist so that the quirt fell to the ground.The man who was with him tossed his rope over her and they twisted itround her arms. I had the muzzle of a rifle poked into my ribs. Theymade me get off my horse. And they made me walk back along the trail.They fired bullets each side of me and laughed at me when I dodged. Theytold me if I looked back they'd shoot my damned head off." Donald's eyeswere filled with tears of self-pity and the remembrance of his helplessrage. "They kept firing at me until I'd passed the stream. I hid in thewillows, but I couldn't see anything. I couldn't even see the men whohad been firing at me.

  "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't rescue Molly without a horse. Ionly had a revolver against their rifles and I'm not much of a shot. Itried to get back here but it was hard to find the way. I knew it waseast but the sun was high and I wasn't sure which way the shadows lay. Iwas all in when your man found me."

  "All right, my son. Keith, I'm goin' to borrow that flask of yores.Might need it."

  He jumped from the car, flask in hand, and ran to the ranch-house. KateNicholson met him as he entered. "Has anything happened to Molly?" shegasped.

  "That's what I'm goin' to find out," Sandy answered. "Mormon, git me mycartridge belt an' some extry shells fo' my rifle."

  "I got to go git me my hawss," demurred Mormon who had followed him in."Becos' I'm goin' on this trail."

  "You can come erlong with Sam when the Brandon outfit shows. Or, if theydon't show, you can bring erlong our own boys soon's they come in. ButI'm hittin' this alone."

  As he spoke he rummaged in a drawer and brought out the first-aid kit healways kept handy.

  "You ain't takin' Sam?" asked Mormon, returning with the cartridge belt,Sandy's rifle and a box of shells. "I know you're goin' to ride hard an'fast, Sandy, but you got to go slow after you git tryin' to cut sign.Plimsoll's likely taken her over to the Waterline range country. Theygot a place over there somewhere they call the Hideout. It's where theyhide their hawsses when they want 'em out of sight an' I reckon it'shard to find. I c'ud keep within' sight of you till you start cuttin'sign, Sandy, an' then catch up."

  "Sam ain't comin'," said Sandy, filling his rifle magazine and breech,stowing away extra clips. "I'm goin' in alone. Mo'n one 'ud be likely tospoil sign, Mormon, mo'n one is likely to advertise we're comin'.They're liable to leave a lookout. Know we'll miss Molly some time.Figgered young Keith might git back some time. Plimsoll's clearin' outof the country an' I'm trailin' him clean through hell if I have to. Efhe's harmed Molly I'll stake him out with a green hide wrapped round himan' his eyelids sliced off. I'll sit in the shade an' watch him frizzlean' yell when the hide shrinks in the sun. This is my private play,Mormon. You an' Sam can back it up, but I'm handlin' the cards. I'llleave sign plain fo' you to foller from Willer Crick. They must havecrossed at the ford below the big bend."

  He left the room and they saw him covering the ground in a wolf trot towhere Sam, astride his own favorite mount, held Pronto ready saddled.They saw Sam's protest, Sandy's vigorous overruling of it, and thenSandy was up-saddle and away at a brisk lope with Sam gazing after himdisconsolately. Keith's car was turning for the trip to Hereford,spurning the dust of the Three Star Ranch forever--and not lamented.

  "Ain't it jest plumb hell--beggin' yore pardon, marm--but that's what itis--plain hell!" cried Mormon. Tears of mortification were in his eyes,his voice was high-pitched and his chagrin was so much like that of anovergrown child that Kate Nicholson felt constrained to laugh despitethe seriousness of the situation. "Me, I been punchin' cows, ridin' ahawss fo' a livin' fo' nigh thirty years," said Mormon. "I ain't whatyou'd call sooperannuated yit, if I am bald. I'm healthy as a woodchuck.But I'm so goldarned, hunky-chunky, hawg-fat I can't ride a hawss nomo'--not faster 'n a walk or further than two mile', fo' fear ofbreakin' his back. So I git left home to sit in a damn rockin' chair!Hell and damnation!"

  "You're going to follow him, aren't you?"

  "That was jest Sandy's way of lettin' me down easy. Sam'll go, but I'llstay to home. I'm goin' to give away my guns an' learn milkin'. Sandy'sgot about three hours of daylight. He'll go 'cross lots on the hawss,fur as he reckons the sign shows safe, an' no man can read sign better'nSandy. Then he'll play snake an' he can beat an Indian at takin' cover.He'll drift over open country 'thout bein' spotted an', up there in therange, they'll never see, smell or hear him till he's on top of 'em an'his guns are doin' the talkin'. You ought to see him in action. I'vedone it. I've been in action with him, me an' Sam. Now all I'm good fo'is a close quarters ra'r an' tumble. He w'udn't take Sam erlong fo' fearof hurtin' my feelin's though even Sam 'ud be some handicap to Sandy onthis trip of scoutin'.

  "Sam can't take cover extra good, though he shoots middlin'. Sandy, heshoots like lightnin' fast an' straight."

  "But there are four against him, at least."

  "Fo' what?" asked Mormon with a look of scorn. "Plimsoll an' three ofhis cronies. Mebbe one or two mo' chucked in fo' good measure. What ofit? Yeller, all of 'em, yeller as the belly of a Gila River pizenlizard. On'y way the odds 'ud be even w'ud be fo' them to git the dropon Sandy an' it can't be done. He's got his fightin' face on an' thatmeans hands an' heart an' eyes an' brain an' every inch of him lined upto win. Sandy fights with his head an' he's got the heart to back it.Hell's bells, marm, beggin' yo' pardon ag'in, I ain't worryin' noneerbout Sandy! I ain't seen him lose out yet. I'm cussin' about_me_--warmin' an armchair an' waddlin' round like a fall hawg."

  Mormon slammed his hat on the floor and jumped on it and Miss Nicholsonfled, a little reassured by Mormon's eulogy, anxious to talk it overwith Sam.

  Sandy, his eyes like the mica flakes that show in gray granite, hishumorous mouth a stern line, little bunches of muscles at the junctionof his jaws, held the pinto to a steady lope that ate up the ground,drifting straight and fast across country for the opening in the mesathat he had marked as the short-cut to the spot described by DonaldKeith. Through gray sage and ferny mesquite Pronto moved, elastic ofevery sinew, springy of pastern, without fret or fuss though he had notbeen ridden for two days. Even as the man fitted the saddle,counterbalanced every supple movement of his steed, so Sandy's willdominated that of Pronto, making his mood his master's, telling him theoccasion was one for best efforts with no place for wasted energy.

  "We're goin' to cross a hard country, li'l' hawss," said Sandy. "But Ifigger we can make it. Got to make it, Pronto. An' we're sure goin' to.Doin' it fo' her."

  Every now and t
hen he talked his thoughts aloud, as the lonely riderwill and, if the pinto could not understand, he listened with prickedears.

  "Grit must have been hurt pritty bad, I'm afraid. Still he might havetrailed her 'stead of comin' back. Sun's gettin' to'ards the no'th."

  He glanced at the luminary, slowly descending. "But the moon's upalready an' she's full." He looked to where a wan plate of batteredsilver hung in the east. "We got some luck on our side, Pronto, afterall.

  "Wonder who the three were with Plimsoll? They've gone to the Hideoutan' we got to find it, li'l' hawss. Some job, I reckon. But Plimsoll'sgoin' to be mighty sorry fo' himse'f befo' long."

  As they neared the foot-hills of the range he lapsed to silence. He wastaking chances, crossing country this fashion. He knew it fairly well,and he guessed at what lay behind the visible contours from theexperience of years. Deep barrancas might crop up in their path, massedthickets of cactus that had to be ridden around for loss of time. Themesa, looking like a solid block of rock at a distance, was, he knewwell, broken into tortuous ravines and canyons, eroded into wild thrustsof the mother rock, its central part eaten away by time and weather.

  Part of the Three Star range, shared by two ranches, ran over thesouthern part of the mesa and it was close to its boundary fence thatSandy was heading. Then came the range of Plimsoll's Waterline, a roughcountry, unknown to Sandy, with scant food for many cattle, but sweetgrass enough for a horse herd and containing pockets where theslicktails sometimes came.

  Sandy struck the first rise. He was now a crucible filled with glowingwhite fury. Thoughts of what Plimsoll might achieve in insult and injuryto Molly could not be kept out of his mind and they but added fuel. Itwas not Sandy Bourke of the Three Bar, riding his favorite pinto, but adesperate man on a horse infected with the same grim determination, aman with a face that, despite the fiery heat within, blazing from hiseyes, would have chilled the blood of any meeting him.

  He did not spare Pronto nor did Pronto attempt to spare himself, goingat the task set before him with all the superb coordination of muscleand tendon and bone that he possessed. They slid down the sides ofravines that were almost as steep as a wall, the pinto squatting on itstail; they climbed the opposing banks with the surety of a mountaingoat, a rush, a scramble of well-placed hooves, a play of fetlocks;then, with a heave of spreading ribs and hammer-strokes of a gallantheart under Sandy's lean thighs, they were over the top and away, withSandy's eyes searching the land for the shortest, most practical way.

  The place it had taken Molly and young Keith nearly three hours to reachin leisurely fashion, Sandy gained in one, splashing through theshallows of Willow Creek at the ford below the big bend and givingPronto the chance to cool his fetlocks and rinse out his mouth in thecold water.

  Ahead lay the chimney ravine that led around into Beaver Dam Lake, inwhich Molly and the boy had been attacked. Sandy viewed the chaparral,the trees that covered the lesser slopes, the stark cliffs above. Partof this lay in the Waterline territory. The chances that Plimsoll hadleft some one on guard were not to be slighted. But he rode on down thenarrow trail. Once in a while he broke a branch and left it swinging asa guide to Sam when he should follow with the riders from the ranch.They would be coming in now and in a few minutes would start onremounts. Perhaps Brandon had come? Sandy wasted little time on surmise.

  The tracks of Molly's Blaze and the horse Donald had been riding wereplain as print to Sandy. He even noticed the slot of Grit's pads hereand there in softer soil. He had picked them up at the coming-out placeof the ford. Two more sets of hoofs came out of the chaparral and fromthere on the sign was badly broken. But Sandy knew the story and theinterpretation was sufficient.

  The shadows were getting longer, half the eastern side of the ravine wasin shadow that steadily crept down as if to obliterate the telltaleimprints. The moon was slowly brightening. Sandy's eyes, burningsteadily, were untroubled by doubt.

  The place of the struggle was plain. The brush was trampled. To one sideof the trail there was a clot of blood, almost black, with flies buzzingattention to it. It must have come from Grit. He caught sight of anotherfleck of it on some leaves where Grit had raced into the brush out ofthe way of the crippling fire.

  "I'll score one fo' you, Grit, while I'm about it," muttered Sandy as hedismounted and carefully surveyed the sign. He even picked up Donald'sreturning shoemarks. Six horses had gone on, one led.

  Sandy swung up the heavy stirrups and tied them above the saddle seat.He stripped the reins from the bridle and pulled down Pronto's wisehead.

  "Hit the back-trail fo' home, li'l' hawss," he said. "If I need me amount to git back I'll borrow one. I got to go belly-trailin' prittysoon."

  He gave the pinto a cautious slap on the flank and Pronto started offdown the trail. So far Sandy believed he had not been seen. If he had, arifle-shot would have been the first warning. With the experience of aman who has seen shooting before, he had chanced a miss, knowing theodds on his side. It was twenty to one Plimsoll and his men had hurriedoff to the Hideout.

  A buzzard hung in the early evening sky, circling high and then suddenlydropping in a swoop.

  "Looks like Grit's cashed in," thought Sandy. "That bird was a latecomer, at that."

  But it was not Grit.

  The ravine curved, forked. One way led to Beaver Dam Lake, the otherrifted deep through rocky outcrop, leading to the Waterline Range. Theboundary fence crossed it. Two posts had been broken out, the wireflattened. Through the gap led the sign that Sandy followed. He carriedhis rifle with him and he moved cautiously but swiftly through the halflight, for the cleft was in shadow. The walls lowered, the inclineended, became a decline, leading down. The clouds were assembling forsunset overhead, the moon just topped the eastern cliffs, beginning tosend out a measure of reflected light. A beam struck a little cylinder,the emptied shell of a thirty-thirty rifle. There was another close by.And scanty soil was marked with more hoofs. Sandy halted, wondering thekey to the puzzle. Did it mean a quarrel between Plimsoll's men?Altogether he figured there had been a dozen horses over the ground. Itwas only a swift guess but he knew it close to the mark. Had Plimsollbeen joined or attacked? And...?

  His practised eyes, roving here and there, saw still more cartridgeshells. Walking cat-footed, he made no sound but suddenly three buzzardsrose on heavy wings and he went swiftly to where they had beensquatting. A dead man lay up against the cliff, a saddle blanket thrownover his face. This had held off the carrion birds. The body was limpand still warm, it had been a corpse only a short time. Sandy took offthe blanket.

  It was Wyatt! Wyatt, whom he had seen not much more than four hoursbefore, riding on the main street in Hereford, threatening vengeance onPlimsoll. A bullet had made a small hole in his skull by the righttemple and crashed out through the back of his head in a bloody gap!