CHAPTER XXIII
TEX EWALT HUNTS TROUBLE
Not more than a few weeks after the Bar-20 drive outfit returned to theranch a solitary horseman pushed on towards the trail they had followed,bound for Buckskin and the Bar-20 range. His name was Tex Ewalt and hecordially hated all of the Bar-20 outfit and Hopalong in particular. Hehad nursed a grudge for several years and now, as he rode south to ridhimself of it and to pay a long-standing debt, it grew stronger until hethrilled with anticipation and the sauce of danger. This grudge had beenacquired when he and Slim Travennes had enjoyed a duel with HopalongCassidy up in Santa Fe, and had been worsted; it had increased when helearned of Slim's death at Cactus Springs at the hands of Hopalong; and,some time later, hearing that two friends of his, "Slippery" Trendleyand "Deacon" Rankin, with their gang, had "gone out" in the Panhandlewith the same man and his friends responsible for it, Tex hastened toMuddy Wells to even the score and clean his slate. Even now his faceburned when he remembered his experiences on that never-to-be-forgottenoccasion. He had been played with, ridiculed, and shamed, until he fledfrom the town as a place accursed, hating everything and everybody. Itgalled him to think that he had allowed Buck Peters' momentary sympathyto turn him from his purpose, even though he was convinced that theforeman's action had saved his life. And now Tex was returning, not toMuddy Wells, but to the range where the Bar-20 outfit held sway.
Several years of clean living had improved Tex, morally and physically.The liquor he had once been in the habit of consuming had been reducedto a negligible quantity; he spent the money on cartridges instead,and his pistol work showed the results of careful and dogged practice,particularly in the quickness of the draw. Punching cows on a remotenorthern range had repaid him in health far more than his old game ofliving on his wits and other people's lack of them, as proved by hisclear eye and the pink showing through the tan above his beard; whilehis somber, steady gaze, due to long-held fixity of purpose, indicatedthe resourcefulness of a perfectly reliable set of nerves. His low-hungholster tied securely to his trousers leg to assure smoothness indrawing, the restrained swing of his right hand, never far from thewell-worn scabbard which sheathed a triggerless Colt's "Frontier"--theseshowed the confident and ready gun-man, the man who seldom missed."Frontiers" left the factory with triggers attached, but the absence ofthat part did not always incapacitate a weapon. Some men found that theregular method was too slow, and painstakingly cultivated the art ofthumbing the hammer. "Thumbing" was believed to save the split secondso valuable to a man in argument with his peers. Tex was riding with theset purpose of picking a fair fight with the best six-shooter expert ithad ever been his misfortune to meet, and he needed that split second.He knew that he needed it and the knowledge thrilled him with a peculiarelation; he had changed greatly in the past year and now he wanted an"even break" where once he would have called all his wits into play toavoid it. He had found himself and now he acknowledged no superior inanything.
On his way south he met and talked with men who had known him, the oldTex, in the days when he had made his living precariously. They did notrecognize him behind his beard, and he was content to let the oversightpass. But from these few he learned what he wished to know, and he wasglad that Hopalong Cassidy was where he had always been, and that hisgun-work had improved rather than depreciated with the passing of time.He wished to prove himself master of The Master, and to be hailed assuch by those who had jeered and laughed at his ignominy several yearsbefore. So he rode on day after day, smiling and content, neitherunder-rating nor over-rating his enemy's ability with one weapon, buttrying to think of him as he really was. He knew that if there was anydifference between Hopalong Cassidy and himself that it must be veryslight--perhaps so slight as to result fatally to both; but if that wereso then it would have to work out as it saw fit--he at least would haveaccomplished what many, many others had failed in.