CHAPTER VII
MR. CASSIDY COGITATES
While Hopalong tried to find his horse, Ben Ferris pushed forward,circling steadily to the east and away from the direction of Hoyt'scorners, which was as much a menace to his health and happiness as thetown of Grant, twenty miles to his rear. If he could have been certainthat no danger was nearer to him than these two towns, he would havefelt vastly relieved, even if his horse was not fresh. During the lasthour he had not urged it as hard as he had in the beginning of hisflight and it had dropped to a walk for minutes at a stretch. This wasnot because he felt that he had plenty of time, but for the reason thathe understood horses and could not afford to exhaust his mount so earlyin the chase. He glanced back from time to time as if fearing what mightbe on his trail, and well he might fear. According to all the traditionsand customs of the range, both of which he knew well, somewhere betweenhim and Grant was a posse of hard-riding cow-punchers, all anxious andeager for a glance at him over their sights. In his mind's eye hecould see them, silent, grim, tenacious, reeling off the miles on thatdistance-eating lope. He had stolen a horse, and that meant death ifthey caught him. He loosened his gaudy kerchief and gulped in fear,not of what pursued, but of what was miles before him. His own saddle,strapped behind the one he sat in, bumped against him with each reach ofthe horse and had already made his back sore--but he must endure it fora time. Never in all his life had minutes been so precious.
Another hour passed and the horse seemed to be doing well, much betterthan he had hoped--he would rest it for a few minutes at the next waterwhile he drank his fill and changed the bumping saddle. As he rounded aturn and entered a heavily grassed valley he saw a stream close at handand, leaping off, fixed the saddle first. As he knelt to drink he caughta movement and jumped up to catch his mount. Time after time he almosttouched it, but it evaded him and kept up the game, cropping a mouthfulof grass during each respite.
"All right!" he muttered as he let it eat. "I'll get my drink while youeat an' then I'll get you!"
He knelt by the stream again and drank long and deep. As he paused forbreath something made him leap up and to one side, reaching for hisColt at the same instant. His fingers found only leather and he sworefiercely as he remembered--he had sold the Colt for food and kept therifle for defence. As he faced the rear a horseman rounded the turn andthe fugitive, wheeling, dashed for the stolen horse forty yards away,where his rifle lay in its saddle sheath. But an angry command and thesharp hum of a bullet fired in front of him checked his flight and hestopped short and swore.
"I reckon the jig's up," remarked Mr. Cassidy, balancing the up-raisedColt with nicety and indifference.
"Yea; I reckon so," sullenly replied the other, tears running into hiseyes.
"Well, I'm damned!" snorted Hopalong with cutting contempt. "Crying likea li'l baby! Got nerve enough to steal my cayuse, an' then go an'beller like a lost calf when I catch you. Yo're a fine specimen of ahoss-thief, I don't think!"
"Yo're a liar!" retorted the other, clenching his fists and growing red.
Mr. Cassidy's mouth opened and then clicked shut as his Colt swung down.But he did not shoot; something inside of him held his trigger fingerand he swore instead. The idea of a man stealing his horse, being caughtred-handed and unarmed, and still possessed of sufficient courage tocall his captor a name never tolerated or overlooked in that country!And the idea that he, Hopalong Cassidy, of the Bar-20, could not shootsuch a thief! "Damn that sky pilot! He's shore gone an' made me loco,"he muttered, savagely, and then addressed his prisoner. "Oh, you ain'tcrying? Wind got in yore eyes, I reckon, an' sort of made 'em leak alittle--that it? Or mebby them unholy green roses an' yaller grass onthat blasted fool neck-kerchief of yourn are too much for _your_ eyes,too!"
"Look ahere!" snapped the man on the ground, stepping forward, one fistupraised. "I came nigh onto licking you this noon in that gospel sharp'stent for making fun of that scarf, an' I'll do it yet if you get anysmart about it! You mind yore own business an' close yore fool eyes ifyou don't like my clothes!"
"Say! You ain't no cry-baby after all. Hanged if I even think yo're areal genuine hoss-thief!" enthused Mr. Cassidy. "You act like a twinbrother; but what the devil ever made you steal that cayuse, anyhow?"
"An' that's none of yore business, neither; but I'll tell you, just thesame," replied the thief. "I had to have it; that's why. I'll fightyou rough-an'-tumble to see if I keep it, or if you take the cayuse an'shoot me besides: is it a go?"
Hopalong stared at him and then a grin struggled for life, got it, andspread slowly over his tanned countenance. "Yore gall is refreshing!Damned if it ain't worse than the scarf. Here, you tell me what made youtake a chance like stealing a cayuse this noon--I'm getting to like you,bad as you are, hanged if I ain't!"
"Oh, what's the use?" demanded the other, tears again coming into hiseyes. "You'll think I'm lying an' trying to crawl out--an' I won't doneither."
"_I_ didn't say _you_ was a liar," replied Hopalong. "It was the otherway about. Reckon you can try me, anyhow; can't you?"
"Yes; I s'pose so," responded the other, slowly, and in a milder toneof voice. "An' when I called you that I was mad and desperate. I washasty--you see, my wife's dying, or dead, over in Winchester. I wasriding hard to get to her before it was too late when my cayuse steppedinto a hole just the other side of Grant--you know what happened. I shotthe animal, stripped off my saddle an' hoofed it to town, an' droppedinto that gospel dealer's layout to see if he could make me feel anybetter--which he could not. I just couldn't stand his palaver aboutdeath an' slipped out. I was going to lay for you an' lick you for theway you acted about this scarf--had to do something or go loco. But whenI got outside there was yore cayuse, all saddled an' ready to go. Ijust up an' threw my saddle on it, followed suit with myself an' wasten miles out of town before I realized just what I'd done. But therealizing part of it didn't make no difference to me--I'd 'a' doneit just the same if I had stopped to think it over. That's flat, an'straight. I've got to get to that li'l woman as quick as I can, an' I'dsteal all the cayuses in the whole damned country if they'd do me anygood. That's all of it--take it or leave it. I put it up to you. That'syore cayuse, but you ain't going to get it without fighting me for it!If you shoot me down without giving me a chance, all right! I'll cut athroat for that wore-out bronc!"
Hopalong was buried in thought and came to himself just in time to coverthe other and stop him not six feet away. "Just a minute, before youmake me shoot you! I want to think about it."
"Damn that gun!" swore the fugitive, nervously shifting his feet andpreparing to spring. "We'd 'a' been fighting by this time if it wasn'tfor that!"
"You stand still or I'll blow you apart," retorted Hopalong, grimly. "Aman's got a right to think, ain't he? An' if I had somebody here to mindthese guns so you couldn't sneak 'em on me I'd fight you so blamed quickthat you'd be licked before you knew you was at it. But we ain't goingto fight--_stand still_! You ain't got no show at all when yo're dead!"
"Then you gimme that cayuse--my God, man! Do you know the hell I've beenthrough for the last two days? Got the word up at Daly's Crossing an'ain't slept since. I'll go loco if the strain lasts much longer! Sheasking for me, begging to see me: an' me, like a damned idiot, wastingtime out here talking to another. Ride with me, behind me--it's onlyforty miles more--tie me to the saddle an' blow me to pieces if you findI'm lying--do anything you wants; but let me get to Winchester beforedark!"
Hopalong was watching him closely and at the end of the other's outburstthrew back his head. "I reckon I'm a plain fool, a jackass; but I don'tcare. I'll rope that cayuse for you. You come along to save time,"Hopalong ordered, spurring forward. His borrowed rope sailed out,tightened, and in a moment he was working at the saddle. "Here, you; I'mgoing to swamp mounts with you--this one is fresher an' faster." He hadhis own saddle off and the other on in record time, and stepped back."There; don't stand there like a fool--wake up an' hustle! I mightchange my mind--that's the way to move! Gimme tha
t neck-kerchief fora souveneer, an' get out. Send that cayuse back to Dave Wilkes, atGrant--it's hissn. Don't thank me; just gimme that scarf an' ride likethe devil."
The other, already mounted, tore the kerchief from his throat and handedit quickly to his benefactor. "If you ever want a man to take you out ofhell, send to Winchester for Ben Ferris--that's me. So long!"
Mr. Cassidy sat on his saddle where he had dropped it after making theexchange and looked after the galloping horseman, and when a distantrise had shut him from sight, turned his eyes on the scarf in his handand cogitated. Finally, with a long-drawn sigh he arose, and, placingthe scarf on the ground, caught and saddled his horse. Riding gloomilyback to where the riot of color fluttered on the grass he drew his Coltand sent six bullets through it with a great amount of satisfaction. Notcontent with the damage he had inflicted, he leaned over and swoopedit up. Riding further he also swooped up a stone and tied the kerchiefaround it, and then stood up in his stirrups and drew back his arm withcritical judgment. He sat quietly for a time after the gaudy missile haddisappeared into the stream and then, wheeling, cantered away. But hedid not return to the town of Grant--he lacked the nerve to face DaveWilkes and tell his childish and improbable story. He would ride on andmeet Red as they had agreed; a letter would do for Mr. Wilkes, and afterhe had broken the shock in that manner he could pay him a personal visitsometime soon. Dave would never believe the story and when it was toldHopalong wanted to have the value of the horse in his trousers pocket.Of course, Ben Ferris _might_ have told the truth and he might returnthe horse according to directions. Hopalong emerged from his reverielong enough to appeal to his mount:
"Bronc, I've been thinking: am I or am I not a jackass?"