CHAPTER VI
"HANDS UP"
Melissy had been up the Can del Oro for wild poppies in her runabout andhad just reached the ranch. She was disposing of her flowers in ollas whenJim Budd, waiter, chambermaid, and odd jobs man at the Bar Double G,appeared in the hall with a frightened, mysterious face.
"What's the matter, Jim? You and Hop Ling been quarrelling again?" sheasked carelessly.
"No'm, that ain't it. It's wusser'n that. I got to tell you-all su'thin' Ihearn yore paw say."
The girl looked up quickly at him. "What do you mean, Jim?"
"That Mistah Norris he come back whilst you wus away, and him and yore pawwus in that back room a-talkin' mighty confidential."
"Yes, and you listened. Well?"
Jim swelled with offended dignity. "No'm, I didn't listen neither. I desnatcherally hearn, 'count of that hole fer the stovepipe what comesthrough the floor of my room."
"But what was it you heard?" she interrupted impatiently.
"I wus a-comin' to that. Plum proverdenshul, I draps into my room des asyore paw wus sayin', 'Twenty thousand dollars goin' down to the Fort onthe stage to-day?' 'Cose I pricks up my ears then and tuk it all in. Thisyere Norris had foun' out that Mistah Morse was shippin' gold from hismine to-day on the Fort Allison stage, and he gits yore paw to go in withhim an' hold it up. Yore paw cussed and said as how 't wus his gold anyhowby rights."
The girl went white and gave a little broken cry. "Oh, Jim! Are yousure?"
"Yas'm, 'cose I'm suah. Them's his ve'y words. Hope to die if they ain't.They wus drinkin', and when 't wus all fixed up that 't wus to be at themouth of the Box canyon they done tore an old black shirt you got for adust-rag and made masks out of it and then rode away."
"Which way did they go?"
"Tow'ds the Box canyon Miss M'lissy."
A slender, pallid figure of despair, she leaned against the wall tosupport the faintness that had so suddenly stolen the strength from herlimbs, trying desperately to think of some way to save her father fromthis madness. She was sure he would bungle it and be caught eventually,and she was equally sure he would never let himself be taken alive. Herhelplessness groped for some way out. There must be some road of escapefrom this horrible situation, and as she sought blindly for it the pathopened before her.
"Where is Hop?" she asked quickly.
"A-sleepin' in his room, ma'am."
"Go to the store and tend it till I come back, Jim. I may be an hour, ormebbe two, but don't you move out of it for a moment. And don't ever speakof any of this, not a word, Jim."
"No'm, 'cose I won't."
His loyalty she did not doubt an instant, though she knew his simple witsmight easily be led to indiscretion. But she did not stay to say more now,but flew upstairs to the room that had been her brother's before he lefthome. Scarce five minutes elapsed before she reappeared transformed. Itwas a slim youth garbed as a cowpuncher that now slipped along the passageto the rear, softly opened the door of the cook's room, noiselesslyabstracted the key, closed the door again as gently, and locked it fromthe outside. She ran into her own room, strapped on her revolver belt, andtook her empty rifle from its case. As she ran through the room below theone Jim occupied, she caught sight of a black rag thrown carelessly intothe fireplace and stuffed it into her pocket.
"That's just like Dad to leave evidence lying around," she said toherself, for even in the anxiety that was flooding her she kept her quietcommonsense.
After searching the horizon carefully to see that nobody was in sight,she got into the rig and drove round the corral to the irrigating ditch.This was a wide lateral of the main canal, used to supply the whole lowervalley with water, and just now it was empty. Melissy drove down into itssandy bed and followed its course as rapidly as she could. If she wereonly in time! If the stage had not yet passed! That was her only fear, thedread of being too late. Not once did the risk of the thing she intendedoccur to her. Physical fear had never been part of her. She had done thethings her brother Dick had done. She was a reckless rider, a good shot,could tramp the hills or follow the round-up all day without knowingfatigue. If her flesh still held its girlish curves and softness, themuscles underneath were firm and compact. Often for her own amusement andthat of her father she had donned her brother's chaps, his spurs,sombrero, and other paraphernalia, to masquerade about the house in them.She had learned to imitate the long roll of the vaquero's stride, themannerisms common to his class, and even the heavy voice of a man. Morethan once she had passed muster as a young man in the shapeless garmentsshe was now wearing. She felt confident that the very audacity of thething would carry it off. There would be a guard for the treasure box, ofcourse, but if all worked well he could be taken by surprise. Her riflewas not loaded, but the chances were a hundred to one that she would notneed to use it.
For the first time in his life the roan got the whip from his mistress.
"Git up, Bob. We've got to hurry. It's for dad," she cried, as they racedthrough the sand and sent it flying from the wheels.
The Fort Allison stage passed within three miles of the Lee ranch on itsway to Mesa. Where the road met in intersection with the ditch she hadchosen as the point for stopping it, and no veteran at the business couldhave selected more wisely, for a reason which will hereafter appear. Somefifty yards below this point of intersection the ditch ran through a groveof cottonwoods fringing the bank. Here the banks sloped down moregradually, and Melissy was able to drive up one side, turn her rig so thatthe horse faced the other way, and draw down into the ditch again in orderthat the runabout could not be seen from the road. Swiftly and skilfullyshe obliterated the track she had made in the sandy bank.
She was just finishing this when the sound of wheels came to her. Rifle inhand, she ran back along the ditch, stooping to pass under the bridge, andwaited at the farther side in a fringe of bushes for the coming of thestage.
Even now fear had no place in the excitement which burned high in her. Thegirl's wits were fully alert, and just in time she remembered the need ofa mask. Her searching fingers found the torn black shirt in a pocket and aknife in another. Hastily she ripped the linen in half, cut out eyeholes,and tied the mask about her head. With perfectly steady hands she pickedup the rifle from the ground and pushed the muzzle of it through thebushes.
Leisurely the stage rolled up-grade toward the crossing. The Mexicandriver was half asleep and the "shotgun messenger" was indolently rollinga cigarette, his sawed-off gun between his knees. Alan McKinstra was thename of this last young gentleman. Only yesterday he had gone to work forMorse, and this was the first job that had been given him. The stage neverhad been held up since the "Monte Cristo" had struck its pay-streak, andthere was no reason to suppose it would be. Nevertheless, Morse proposedto err on the side of caution.
"I reckon the man that holds down this job don't earn his salt, Jose. It'swhat they call a sinecure," Alan was saying at the very instant thesummons came.
"Throw up your hands!"
Sharp and crisp it fell on Alan's ears. He sat for a moment stunned, thehalf-rolled cigarette still between his fingers. The driver drew up hisfour horses with a jerk and brought them to a huddled halt.
"Hands up!" came again the stinging imperative.
Now, for the first time, it reached Alan's consciousness that the stagewas actually being held up. He saw the sun shining on the barrel of arifle and through the bushes the masked face of a hidden cowpuncher. Hisfirst swift instinct was to give battle, and he reached for the shotgunbetween his knees. Simultaneously the driver's foot gave it a push andsent the weapon clattering to the ground. Jose at least knew better thanto let him draw the road agent's fire while he sat within a foot of thedriver. His hands went into the air, and after his Alan's and those of thetwo passengers.
"Throw down that box."
Alan lowered his hands and did as directed.
"Now reach for the stars again."
McKinstra's arms went skyward. Without his weapon, he was helpless to d
ootherwise. The young man had an odd sense of unreality about the affair, afeeling that it was not in earnest. The timbre of the fresh young voicethat came from the bushes struck a chord in his memory, though for thelife of him he could not place its owner.
"Drive on, Jose. Burn the wind and keep a-rollin' south."
The Mexican's whip coiled over the head of the leaders and the broncossprang forward with a jump. It was the summit of a long hill, on the edgeof which wound the road. Until the stage reached the foot of it therewould be no opportunity to turn back. Round a bend of the road it swung ata gallop, and the instant it disappeared Melissy leaped from the bushes,lifted the heavy box, and carried it to the edge of the ditch. She flewdown the sandy bottom to the place where the rig stood, drove swiftlyback again, and, though it took the last ounce of strength in her, managedto tumble the box into the trap.
Back to the road she went, and from the place where the box had fallenmade long strides back to the bushes where she had been standing at themoment of the hold-up. These tracks she purposely made deep and large,returning in her first ones to the same point, but from the marks wherethe falling treasure box had struck into the road she carefullyobliterated with her hand the foot-marks leading to the irrigation ditch,sifting the sand in carefully so as to leave no impression. This tookscarcely a minute. She was soon back in her runabout, driving homewardfast as whip and voice could urge the horse.
She thought she could reason out what McKinstra and the stage-driver woulddo. Mesa was twenty-five miles distant, the "Monte Cristo" mine seventeen.Nearer than these points there was no telephone station except the one atthe Lee ranch. Their first thought would be to communicate with Morse,with the officers at Mammoth, and with the sheriff of Mesa County. To dothis as soon as possible they would turn aside and drive to the ranchafter they reached the bottom of the hill and could make the turn. It wasa long, steep hill, and Melissy estimated that this would give her a startof nearly twenty minutes. She would save about half a mile by followingthe ditch instead of the road, but at best she knew she was drawing itvery fine.
She never afterward liked to think of that drive home. It seemed to herthat Bob crawled and that the heavy sand was interminable. Feverishly sheplied the whip, and when at length she drew out of the ditch she sent herhorse furiously round the big corral. Though she had planned everything tothe last detail, she knew that any one of a hundred contingencies mightspoil her plan. A cowpuncher lounging about the place would have ruinedeverything, or at best interfered greatly. But the windmill clicked oversunlit silence, empty of life. No stir or movement showed the presence ofany human being.
Melissy drove round to the side door, dumped out the treasure-box, raninto the house, and quickly returned with a hammer and some tacks, thenfell swiftly to ripping the oilcloth that covered the box which stoodagainst the wall to serve as a handy wash-stand for use by dustytravellers before dining. The two boxes were of the same size and shape,and she draped the treasure chest with the cloth, tacked it in place,restored to the top of it the tin basin, and tossed the former wash-standamong a pile of old boxes from the store, that were to be used forkindling. After this she ran upstairs, scudded softly along the corridor,and silently unlocked the cook's door, dropping the key on the floor tomake it appear as if something had shaken it from the keyhole. Presentlyshe was in her brother's room, doffing his clothes and dressing herself inher own.
A glance out of the window sapped the color from her cheek, for she sawthe stage breasting the hill scarce two hundred yards from the house. Shehurried downstairs, pinning her belt as she ran, and flashed into thestore, where Jim sat munching peanuts.
"The stage is coming, Jim. Remember, you're not to know anything about itat all. If they ask for Dad, say he's out cutting trail of a bunch of hillcows. Tell them I started after the wild flowers about fifteen minutesago. Don't talk much about it, though. I'll be back inside of an hour."
With that she was gone, back to her trap, which she swung along a trailback of the house till it met the road a quarter of a mile above. Heractions must have surprised steady old Bob, for he certainly never beforehad seen his mistress in such a desperate hurry as she had been this dayand still was. Nearly a mile above, a less well defined track deflectedfrom the main road. Into this she turned, following it until she came tothe head-gates of the lateral which ran through their place. The maincanal was full of water, and after some effort she succeeded in openingthe head-gates so as to let the water go pouring through.
Returning to the runabout, the girl drove across a kind of natural meadowto a hillside not far distant, gathered a double handful of wild flowers,and turned homeward again. The stage was still there when she came insight of the group of buildings at the ranch.
As she drew up and dismounted with her armful of flowers, Alan McKinstrastepped from the store to the porch and came forward to assist her.
"The Fort Allison stage has been robbed," he blurted out.
"What nonsense! Who would want to rob it?" she retorted.
"Morse had a gold shipment aboard," he explained in a low voice, and addedin bitter self-condemnation: "He sent me along to guard it, and I nevereven fired a shot to save it."
"But--do you mean that somebody held up the stage?" she gasped.
"Yes. But whoever it was can't escape. I've 'phoned to Jack Flatray and toMorse. They'll be right out here. The sheriff of Mesa County has alreadystarted with a posse. They'll track him down. That's a cinch. He can't getaway with the box without a rig. If he busts the box, he's got to carry iton a horse and a horse leaves tracks."
"But who do you think it was?"
"Don't know. One of the Roaring Fork bunch of bad men, likely. But I don'tknow."
The young man was plainly very much excited and disturbed. He walkednervously up and down, jerking his sentences out piecemeal as he thoughtof them.
"Was there only one man? And did you see him?" Melissy askedbreathlessly.
He scarcely noticed her excitement, or if he did, it seemed to him onlynatural under the circumstances.
"I expect there were more, but we saw only one. Didn't see much of him. Hewas screened by the bushes and wore a black mask. So long as the stage wasin sight he never moved from that place; just stood there and kept uscovered."
"But how could he rob you if he didn't come out?" she asked in wide-eyedinnocence.
"He didn't rob _us_ any. He must 'a' heard of the shipment of gold, andthat's what he was after. After he'd got us to rights he made me throw thebox down in the road. That's where it was when he ordered us to move onand keep agoing."
"And you went?"
"Jose handled the lines, but 't would 'a' been the same if I'd held them.That gun of his was a right powerful persuader." He stopped to shake afist in impotent fury in the air. "I wish to God I could meet up with himsome day when he didn't have the drop on me."
"Maybe you will some time," she told him soothingly. "I don't think you'rea bit to blame, Alan. Nobody could think so. Ever so many times I've heardDad say that when a man gets the drop on you there's nothing to do butthrow up your hands."
"Do you honest think so, Melissy? Or are you just saying it to take thesting away? Looks like I ought to 'a' done something mor'n sit there likea bump on a log while he walked off with the gold."
His cheerful self-satisfaction was under eclipse. The boyish pride of himwas wounded. He had not "made good." All over Cattleland the news would bewafted on the wings of the wind that Alan McKinstra, while acting asshotgun messenger to a gold shipment, had let a road agent hold him up forthe treasure he was guarding.
"Very likely they'll catch him and get the gold back," she suggested.
"That won't do me any good," he returned gloomily. "The only thing thatcan help me now is for me to git the fellow myself, and I might just aswell look for a needle in a haystack."
"You can't tell. The robber may be right round here now." Her eyes,shining with excitement, passed the crowd moving in and out of the store,for already the news of the
hold-up had brought riders and ranchmenjogging in to learn the truth of the wild tale that had reached them.
"More likely he's twenty miles away. But whoever he is, he knows thiscounty. He made a slip and called Jose by his name."
Melissy's gaze was turned to the dust whirl that advanced up the road thatran round the corral. "That doesn't prove anything, Alan. Everybody knowsJose. He's lived all over Arizona--at Tucson and Tombstone and Douglas."
"That's right too," the lad admitted.
The riders in advance of the dust cloud resolved themselves into thepersons of her father and Norris. Her incautious admission was alreadytroubling her.
"But I'm sure you're right. No hold-up with any sense would stay aroundhere and wait to be caught. He's probably gone up into the Galiuros tohide."
"Unless he's cached the gold and is trying to throw off suspicion."
The girl had moved forward to the end of the house with Alan to meet herfather. At that instant, by the ironic humor of chance, her glance fellupon a certain improvised wash-stand covered with oilcloth. She shook herhead decisively. "No, he won't risk waiting to do that. He'll make sure ofhis escape first."
"I reckon."
"Have you heard, Daddy?" Melissy called out eagerly. She knew she mustplay the part expected of her, that of a young girl much interested inthis adventure which had occurred in the community.
He nodded grimly, swinging from the saddle. She observed with surprisethat his eye did not meet hers. This was not like him.
"What do you think?"
His gaze met that of Norris before he answered, and there was in it somehint of a great fear. "Beats me, 'Lissy."
He had told the simple truth, but not the whole truth. The men had waitedat the entrance to the Box canyon for nearly two hours without the arrivalof the stage. Deciding that something must have happened, they startedback, and presently met a Mexican who stopped to tell them the news. Tosay that they were dazed is to put it mildly. To expect them to believethat somebody else had heard of the secret shipment and had held up thestage two miles from the place they had chosen, was to ask a credulity toosimple. Yet this was the fact that confronted them.
Arrived at the scene of the robbery both men had dismounted and hadexamined the ground thoroughly. What they saw tended still more tobewilder them. Neither of them was a tenderfoot, and the little table atthe summit of the long hill told a very tangled tale to those who had eyesto read. Obvious tracks took them at once to the spot where the bandit hadstood in the bushes, but there was something about them that struck bothmen as suspicious.
"Looks like these are worked out on purpose," commented Lee. "The guy'sleaving too easy a trail to follow, and it quits right abrupt in thebushes. Must 'a' took an airship from here, I 'low."
"Does look funny. Hello! What's this?"
Norris had picked up a piece of black cloth and was holding it out. Astartled oath slipped from the lips of the Southerner. He caught the ragfrom the hands of his companion and studied it with a face of growingastonishment.
"What's up?"
Lee dived into his pocket and drew forth the mask he had been wearing.Silently he fitted it to the other. The pieces matched exactly, both inlength and in the figure of the pattern.
When the Southerner looked up his hands were shaking and his face ashen.
"For God's sake, Phil, what does this mean?" he cried hoarsely.
"Search me."
"It must have been--looks like the hold-up was somebody--my God, man, weleft this rag at the ranch when we started!" the rancher whispered.
"That's right."
"We planned this thing right under the nigger's room. He must 'a' heardand---- But it don't look like Jim Budd to do a thing like that."
Norris had crossed the road again and was standing on the edge of thelateral.
"Hello! This ditch is full of water. When we passed down it was empty," hesaid.
Lee crossed over and stood by his side, a puzzled frown on his face."There hadn't ought to be water running hyer now," he said, as if tohimself. "I don't see how it could 'a' come hyer, for Bill Weston--he'sthe ditch rider--went to Mesa this mo'ning, and couldn't 'a' got back toturn it in."
The younger man stooped and examined a foot-print at the edge of theditch. It was the one Melissy had made just as she stepped into the rig.
"Here's something new, Lee. We haven't seen this gentleman's track before.Looks like a boy's. It's right firm and deep in this soft ground. I'll beta cooky your nigger never made that track."
The Southerner crouched down beside him, and they looked at it together,head to head.
"No, it ain't Jim's. I don't rightly _savez_ this thing at all," the oldman muttered, troubled at this mystery which seemed to point to hishousehold.
"By Moses, I've got it! The guy who did the holding up had his horse downhere. He loaded the sack on its back and drove off up the ditch. All wegot to do is follow the ditch up or down till we come to the place wherehe climbed out and struck across country."
"That's right, Phil. He must have had a pardner up at the head-gates. Theyhad some kind of signal arranged, and when Mr. Hold-up was ready down comethe water and washed out his tracks. It's a blame' smooth piece ofbusiness if you ask me."
"The fellow made two bad breaks, though. That piece of shirt is one. Thisfoot-print is another. They may land him in the pen yet."
"I don't think it," returned the old man with composure, and as he spokehis foot erased the telltale print. "I 'low there won't anybody go to thepen for he'pin himself to Mr. Morse's gold dust. I don't give a cuss whoit was."
Norris laughed in his low, easy way. "I'm with you, Mr. Lee. We'll make athorough job while we're at it and mess up these other tracks. After thatwe'll follow the ditch up and see if there's anything doing."
They remounted their broncos and rode them across the tracks severaltimes, then followed the lateral up, one on either side of the ditch,their eyes fastened to the ground to see any evidence of a horse havingclambered over the bank. They drew in sight of the ranch house withoutdiscovering what they were looking for. Lee's heart was in his mouth, forhe knew that he would see presently what his eye sought.
"I reckon the fellow went down instead of up," suggested Norris.
"No, he came up."
Lee had stopped and was studying wheel tracks that ran up from the ditchto his ranch house. His face was very white and set. He pointed to themwith a shaking finger.
"There's where he went in the ditch, and there's where he came out."
Norris forded the stream, cast a casual eye on the double track, andnodded. He was still in a fog of mystery, but the old man was alreadyfearing the worst.
He gulped out his fears tremblingly. For himself, he was of a flawlessnerve, but this touched nearer home than his own danger.
"Them wheel-tracks was made by my little gyurl's runabout, Phil."
"Good heavens!" The younger man drew rein sharply and stared at him. "Youdon't think----"
He broke off, recalling the sharp, firm little foot-print on the edge ofthe ditch some miles below.
"I don't reckon I know what to think. If she was in this, she's got somegood reason." A wave of passion suddenly swept the father. "By God! I'dlike to see the man that dares mix her name up in this."
Norris met this with his friendly smile. "You can't pick a row with meabout that, old man. I'm with you till the cows come home. But that ain'tquite the way to go at this business. First thing, we've got to wipe outthese tracks. How? Why, sheep! There's a bunch of three hundred in thatpasture. We'll drive the bunch down to the ditch and water them here._Savez?_"
"And wipe out the wheel-marks in the sand. Bully for you, Phil."
"That's the idea. After twelve hundred chisel feet have been over thissand I reckon the wheel-tracks will be missing."
They rode up to the house, and the first thing that met them was thecandid question of the girl:
"Have you heard, Daddy?"
And out of his troubled heart h
e had answered, "Beats me, 'Lissie."
"They've sent for the officers. Jack Flatray is on the way himself. So isSheriff Burke," volunteered Alan gloomily.
"Getting right busy, ain't they?" Norris sneered.
Again Lee glanced quickly at Norris. "I reckon, Phil, we better drive thatbunch of sheep down to water right away. I clean forgot them thismo'ning."
"Sure." The younger man was not so easily shaken. He turned to McKinstranaturally. "How many of the hold-ups were there?"
"I saw only one, and didn't see him very good. He was a slim fellow in ablack mask."
"You don't say. Were you the driver?"
Alan felt the color suffuse his face. "No, I was the guard."
"Oh, you were the guard."
Alan felt the suave irony that covered this man's amusement, and heresented it impotently. When Melissy came to his support he was the moregrateful.
"And we all think he did just right in using his common sense, Mr.Norris," the girl flashed.
"Oh, certainly."
And with that he was gone after her father to help him water the sheep.
"I don't see why those sheep have to be watered right now," she frownedto Alan. "Dad _did_ water them this morning. I helped him."
Together they went into the store, where Jose was telling his story forthe sixth time to a listening circle of plainsmen.
"And right then he come at you and ree-quested yore whole outfit to poke ahole in the scenery with yore front feet?" old Dave Ellis asked just asMelissy entered.
"_Si, Senor._"
"One of MacQueen's Roaring Fork gang did it, I'll bet," Alan contributedsourly.
"What kind of a lookin' guy was he?" spoke up a dark young man known asBob Farnum.
"A big man, _senor_, and looked a ruffian."
"They're always that way until you run 'em down," grinned Ellis. "Neverknew a hold-up wasn't eight foot high and then some--to the fellow at thewrong end of the gun."
"If you mean to say, Dave Ellis, that I lay down to a bluff----" Alan wasbeginning hotly when the old frontiersman interrupted.
"Keep your shirt on, McKinstra. I don't mean to say it. Nobody but a darnfool makes a gun-play when the cards are stacked that-a-way. Yore bad playwas in reaching for the gun at all."
"Well, Jack Flatray will git him. I'll bet a stack of blues on that,"contributed a fat ranchman wheezily.
"Unless you mussed up the trail coming back," said Ellis to thestage-driver.
"We didn't. I thought of that, and I had Jose drive clear round the place.Jack will find it all right unless there's too much travel before he getshere," said Alan.
Farnum laughed malevolently. "Mebbe he'll get him and mebbe he won't.Jack's human, like the rest of us, if he is the best sheriff in Arizona.Here's hoping he don't get him. Any man that waltzes out of the cactus andappropriates twenty thousand dollars belonging to Mr. Morse is welcome toit for all of me. I don't care if he is one of MacQueen's bad men. I wishit had been forty thousand."
Farnum did not need to explain the reasons for his sentiments. Everybodypresent knew that he was the leader of that bunch of cattlemen who hadbunched themselves together to resist the encroachments of sheep upon therange. Among these the feeling against Morse was explosively dangerous. Ithad found expression in more than one raid upon his sheep. Many of themhad been destroyed by one means or another, but Morse, with the obstinacycharacteristic of him, had replaced them with others and continuallyincreased his herds. There had been threats against his life, and one ofhis herders had been wounded. But the mine-owner went his way with quietfearlessness and paid no attention to the animosity he had stirred up. Thegeneral feeling was that the trouble must soon come to a head. Nobodyexpected the rough and ready vaqueros, reckless and impulsive as theywere, to submit to the loss of the range, which meant too the wiping outof their means of livelihood, without a bitter struggle that would be bothlawless and bloody.
Wherefore there was silence after Farnum had spoken, broken at length bythe amiable voice of the fat ranchman, Baker.
"Well, we'll see what we'll see," he wheezed complacently. "And anyways Igot to have some horseshoe plug, Melissy."
The girl laughed nervously as she reached for what he wanted. "You're asafe prophet, Mr. Baker," she said.
"He'd be a safe one if he'd prophesy that Jack Flatray would have Mr.Hold-up in the calaboose inside of three days," put in a half-grown lad inleathers.
"I ain't so sure about that. You'll have to show me, and so will Mr.Deputy Sheriff Flatray," retorted Farnum.
A shadow darkened the doorway.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen all--and Miss Lee," a pleasant voice drawled.
The circle of eyes focused on the new-comer and saw a lean, muscular,young fellow of medium height, cool and alert, with the dust of the deserton every sunbaked inch of him.
"I'm damned if it ain't Jack here already!" gasped Baker.