The Two-Gun Man

  CHAPTER II

  THE STRANGER SHOOTS

  The stranger seemed taller on the ground than in the saddle and anadmirable breadth of shoulder and slenderness of waist told eloquentlyof strength. He could not have been over twenty-five or six. Yetcertain hard lines about his mouth, the glint of mockery in his eyes,the pronounced forward thrust of the chin, the indefinable force thatseemed to radiate from him, told the casual observer that here was aman who must be approached with care.

  But apparently the shooter saw no such signs. In the first glance thathad been exchanged between the two men there had been a lack ofordinary cordiality. And now, as the rider slid down from his pony andadvanced toward the center of the street, the shooter's lips curled.Writhing through them came slow-spoken words.

  "You runnin' sheep, stranger?"

  The rider's lips smiled, but his eyes were steady and cold. In themshone a flash of cold humor. He stood, quietly contemplating hisinsulter.

  Smiles appeared on the faces of several of the onlookers. The tall manwith the grave face watched with a critical eye. The insult had beendeliberate, and many men crouched, plainly expecting a serious outcome.But the stranger made no move toward his guns, and when he answered hemight have been talking about the weather, so casual was his tone.

  "I reckon you think you're a plum man," he said quietly. "But if youare, you ain't showed it much--buttin' in with that there wiseobservation. An' there's some men who think that shootin' at a man ismore excitin' than shootin' at a can."

  There was a grim quality in his voice now. He leaned forward slightly,his eyes cold and alert. The shooter sneered experimentally. Againthe audience smiled.

  But the tall man now stepped forward. "You've made your play,stranger," he said quietly. "I reckon it's up to you to make good."

  "Correct," agreed the stranger. "I'm goin' to show you some realshootin'. You got another can?"

  Some one dived into the Silver Dollar and returned in a flash withanother tomato can. This the stranger took, removing the label, as theshooter had done. Then, smiling, he took a position in the center ofthe street, the can in his right hand.

  He did not draw his weapon as the shooter had done, but stood looselyin his place, his right hand still grasping the can, the left swingingidly by his side. Apparently he did not mean to shoot. Sneers reachedthe faces of several men in the crowd. The shooter growled,"Fourflush."

  There was a flash as the can rose twenty feet in the air, propelled bythe right hand of the stranger. As the can reached the apex of itsclimb the stranger's right hand descended and grasped the butt of theweapon at his right hip. There was a flash as the gun came out; a gaspof astonishment from the watchers. The can was arrested in the firstfoot of its descent by the shock of the first bullet striking it. Itjumped up and out and again began its interrupted fall, only to stopdead still in the air as another bullet struck it. There was aninfinitesimal pause, and then twice more the can shivered and jumped.No man in the crowd but could tell that the bullets were striking true.

  The can was still ten feet in the air and well out from the stranger.The latter whipped his weapon to a level, the bullet striking the canand driving it twenty feet from him. Then it dropped. But when it waswithin five feet of the ground the stranger's gun spoke again. The canleaped, careened sideways, and fell, shattered, to the street, thirtyfeet distant from the stranger.

  Several men sprang forward to examine it.

  "Six times!" ejaculated the tall man in an awed tone. "An' he didn'tpull his gun till he'd throwed the can!"

  He approached the stranger, drawing him confidentially aside. Thecrowd slowly dispersed, loudly proclaiming the stranger's ability withthe six-shooter. The latter took his honors lightly, the mocking smileagain on his face.

  "I'm lookin' for a man who can shoot," said the tall man, when the lastman of the crowd had disappeared into the saloon.

  The stranger smiled. "I reckon you've just seen some shootin'," hereturned.

  The tall man smiled mirthlessly. "You particular about what you shootat?" he inquired.

  The stranger's lips straightened coldly. "I used to have that habit,"he returned evenly.

  "Hard luck?" queried the tall man.

  "I'm rollin' in wealth," stated the stranger, with an ironic sneer.

  The tall man's eyes glittered. "Where you from?" he questioned.

  "You c'n have three guesses," returned the stranger, his eyes narrowingwith the mockery that the tall man had seen in them before.

  The tall man adopted a placative tone. "I ain't wantin' to butt intoyour business," he said. "I was wantin' to find out if any one aroundhere knowed you."

  "This town didn't send any reception committee to meet me, did they?"smiled the stranger.

  "Correct," said the tall man. He leaned closer. "You willin' to workyour guns for me for a hundred a month?"

  The stranger looked steadily into the tall man's eyes.

  "You've been right handy askin' questions," he said. "Mebbe you'llanswer some. What's your name?"

  "Stafford," returned the tall man. "I'm managin' the Two Diamond, overon the Ute."

  The stranger's eyelashes flickered slightly. His eyes narrowedquizzically. "What you wantin' of a gun-man?" he asked.

  "Rustler," returned the other shortly.

  The stranger smiled. "Figger on shootin' him?" he questioned.

  Stafford hesitated. "Well, no," he returned. "That is, not until I'msure I've got the right one." He seized the stranger's arm in aconfidential grip. "You see," he explained, "I don't know just whereI'm at. There's been a rustler workin' on the herd, an' I ain't beenable to get close enough to find out who it is. But rustlin' has gotto be stopped. I've sent over to Raton to get a man named NedFerguson, who's been workin' for Sid Tucker, of the Lazy J. Tuckerwrote me quite a while back, tellin' me that this man was plum slick atnosin' out rustlers. He was to come to the Two Diamond two weeks ago.But he ain't showed up, an' I've about concluded that he ain't comin'.An' so I come over to Dry Bottom to find a man."

  "You've found one," smiled the stranger.

  Stafford drew out a handful of double eagles and pressed them into theother's hand. "I'm goin' over to the Two Diamond now," he said."You'd better wait a day or two, so's no one will get wise. Come rightto me, like you was wantin' a job."

  He started toward the hitching rail for his pony, hesitated and thenwalked back.

  "I didn't get your name," he smiled.

  The stranger's eyes glittered humorously. "It's Ferguson," he saidquietly.

  Stafford's eyes widened with astonishment. Then his right hand wentout and grasped the other's.

  "Well, now," he said warmly, "that's what I call luck."

  Ferguson smiled. "Mebbe it's luck," he returned. "But before I goover to work for you there's got to be an understandin'. I c'n shootsome," he continued, looking steadily at Stafford, "but I ain't runnin'around the country shootin' men without cause. I'm willin' to try an'find your rustler for you, but I ain't shootin' him--unless he goes tocrowdin' me mighty close."

  "I'm agreein' to that," returned Stafford.

  He turned again, looking back over his shoulder. "You'll sure beover?" he questioned.

  "I'll be there the day after to-morrow," stated Ferguson.

  He turned and went into the Silver Dollar. Stafford mounted his ponyand loped rapidly out of town.