CHAPTER X
BUCK TAKES A HAND
Cowan's saloon, club, and place of general assembly for the town ofBuckskin and the nearby ranches, held a merry crowd, for it was pay-dayon the range and laughter and liquor ran a close race. Buck Peters,his hands full of cigars, passed through the happy-go-lucky,do-as-you-please crowd and invited everybody to smoke, which nobodyrefused to do. Wood Wright, of the C-80, tuned his fiddle anew and swunginto a rousing quick-step. Partners were chosen, the "women" wearinghandkerchiefs on their arms to indicate the fact, and the room shook andquivered as the scraping of heavy boots filled the air with a cloud ofdust. "Allaman left!" cried the prompter, and then the dance stopped asif by magic. The door had crashed open and a blood-stained man staggeredin and towards the bar, crying, "Buck! Red's hemmed in by 'Paches!"
"Good God!" roared the foreman of the Bar-20, leaping forward, thecigars falling to the floor to be crushed and ground into powder bycareless feet. He grasped his puncher and steadied him while Cowan slidan extra generous glassful of brandy across the bar for the wounded man.The room was in an uproar, men grabbing rifles and running out to gettheir horses, for it was plain to be seen that there was hard work to bedone, and quickly. Questions, threats, curses filled the air, thosewho remained inside to get the story listening intently to the jerkynarrative; those outside, caring less for the facts of an action pastthan for the action to come, shouted impatiently for a start to be made,even threatening to go on and tackle the proposition by themselves ifthere were not more haste. Hopalong told in a graphic, terse manner allthat was necessary, while Buck and Cowan hurriedly bandaged his wounds.
"Come on! Come on!" shouted the mounted crowd outside, angry, andimpatient for a start, the prancing of horses and the clinking of metaladding to the noise. "Get a move on! _Will_ you hurry up!"
"Listen, Hoppy!" pleaded Buck, in a furore. "Shut up, you outside!" heyelled. "You say they know that you got away, Hoppy?" he asked. "Allright--_Lanky!_" he shouted. "_Lanky!_"
"All right, Buck!" and Lanky Smith roughly pushed his way through thecrowd to his foreman's side. "Here I am."
"Take Skinny and Pete with you, an' a lead horse apiece. Strike straightfor Powers' old ranch house. Them Injuns'll have pickets out looking forHoppy's friends. You three get the pickets nearest the old trail throughthat arroyo to the southeast, an' then wait for us. We'll come along thehigh bank on the left. Don't make no noise doing it, neither, if you canhelp it. Understand? Good! Now ride like the devil!"
Lanky grabbed Pete and Skinny on his way out and disappeared into thecorral; and very soon thereafter hoof-beats thudded softly in the sandystreet and pounded into the darkness of the north, soon lost to the ear.An uproar of advice and good wishes crashed after them, for the game hadbegun.
"It's Powers' old shack, boys!" shouted a man in the door to therestless force outside, which immediately became more restless. "Hey!Don't go yet!" he begged. "Wait for me an' the rest. Don't be a lot ofidiots!"
Excited and impatient voices replied from the darkness, vexed, grouchy,and querulous. "Then get a move on--_whoa!_--it'll be light before weget there if you don't hustle!" roared one voice above the confusion."You know what _that_ means!"
"Come on! Come on! For God's sake, are you tied to the bar?"
"Yo're a lot of old grandmothers! Come on!"
Hopalong appeared in the door. "I'll show you the way, boys!" heshouted. "Cowan, put my saddle on yore cayuse--_pronto_!"
"Good for you, Hoppy!" came from the street. "We'll wait!"
"You stay here; yo're hurt too much!" cried Buck to his puncher, as hegrabbed up a box of cartridges from a shelf behind the bar. "Ain't yougot no sense? There's enough of us to take care of this without you!"
Hopalong wheeled and looked his foreman squarely in the eyes. "Red'sout there, waiting for me--I'm going! I'd be a fine sort of a coyote toleave him in that hell hole an' not go back, wouldn't I!" he said, withquiet determination.
"Good for you, Cassidy!" cried a man who hastened out to mount.
"Well, then, come on," replied Buck. "There's blamed few like you," hemuttered, following Hopalong outside.
"Here's the cayuse, Cassidy," cried Cowan, turning the animal over tohim. "_Wait_, Buck!" and he leaped into the building and ran out again,shoving a bottle of brandy and a package of food into the impatientforeman's hand. "Mebby Red or Hoppy'll need it--so long, an' goodluck!" and he was alone in a choking cloud of dust, peering through thedarkness along the river trail after a black mass that was swallowed upalmost instantly. Then, as he watched, the moon pushed its rim up overthe hills and he laughed joyously as he realized what its light wouldmean to the crowd. "There'll be great doings when _that_ gang cutsloose," he muttered with savage elation. "Wish I was with 'em. DamnInjuns, anyhow!"
Far ahead of the main fighting force rode the three special-duty men,reeling off the miles at top speed and constantly distancing theirfriends, for they changed mounts at need, thanks to the lead horsesprovided by Mr. Peters' cool-headed foresight. It was a race againstdawn, and every effort was made to win--the life of Red Connors hung inthe balance and a minute might turn the scale.