CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Trendley Assumes Added Importance
That the rustlers were working under a well organized system wasevident. That they were directed by a master of the game was ceaselesslybeaten into the consciousness of the Association by the diversity, dashand success of their raids. No one, save the three men whom they haddestroyed, had ever seen them. But, like Tamale Jose, they had raidedonce too often.
Mr. Trendley, more familiarly known to men as "Slippery," was thepossessor of a biased conscience, if any at all. Tall, gaunt andweather-beaten and with coal-black eyes set deep beneath hairlesseyebrows, he was sinister and forbidding. Into his forty-five years ofexistence he had crowded a century of experience, and unsavory rumorsabout him existed in all parts of the great West. From Canada to Mexicoand from Sacramento to Westport his name stood for brigandage. Hisoperations had been conducted with such consummate cleverness that inall the accusations there was lacking proof.
Only once had he erred, and then in the spirit of pure deviltry and inthe days of youthful folly, and his mistake was a written note. Hewas even thought by some to have been concerned in the Mountain MeadowMassacre; others thought him to have been the leader of the band ofoutlaws that had plundered along the Santa Fe Trail in the late '60's.In Montana and Wyoming he was held responsible for the outrages of theband that had descended from the Hole-in-the-Wall territory and for overa hundred miles carried murder and theft that shamed as being weak themost assiduous efforts of zealous Cheyennes. It was in this last raidthat he had made the mistake and it was in this raid that FrenchyMcAllister had lost his wife.
When Frenchy had first been approached by Buck as to his going in searchof the rustlers he had asked to go alone. This had been denied by theforeman of the Bar-20 because the men whom he had selected to accompanythe scout were of such caliber that their presence could not possiblyform a hindrance. Besides being his most trusted friends they wereregarded by him as being the two best exponents of "gun-play" that theWest afforded. Each was a specialist: Hopalong, expert beyond beliefwith his Colt's six-shooters, was only approached by Red, whoseWinchester was renowned for its accuracy. The three made a perfectcombination, as the rashness of the two younger men would be under thecontrolling influence of a man who could retain his coolness of mindunder all circumstances.
When Buck and Frenchy looked into each other's eyes there sprang intothe mind of each the same name--Slippery Trendley. Both had spent thegreater part of a year in fruitless search for that person, the foremanof the Tin-Cup in vengeance for the murder of his wife, the blasting ofhis prospects and the loss of his herds; Buck, out of sympathy for hisfriend and also because they had been partners in the Double Y. Now thatthe years had passed and the long-sought-for opportunity was believedto be at hand, there was promised either a cessation of the outrages orthat Buck would never again see his friends.
When the three mounted and came to him for final instructions Buckforced himself to be almost repellent in order to be capable of coherentspeech. Hopalong glanced sharply at him and then understood, Red was allattention and eagerness and remarked nothing but the words.
"Have yu ever heard of Slippery Trendley?" Harshly inquired the foreman.
They nodded, and on the faces of the younger men a glint of hatredshowed itself, but Frenchy wore his poker countenance.
Buck continued: "Th' reason I asked yu was because I don't want yu tothink yore goin' on no picnic. I ain't shore it's him, but I've hadsome hopeful information. Besides, he is th' only man I knows of who'scapable of th' plays that have been made. It's hardly necessary for meto tell yu to sleep with one eye open and never to get away from yoreguns. Now I'm goin' to tell yu th' hardest part: yu are goin' to searchth' Staked Plain from one end to th' other, an' that's what no whiteman's ever done to my knowledge.
"Now, listen to this an' don't forget it. Twenty miles north from LastStand Rock is a spring; ten miles south of that bend in Hell Arroyo isanother. If yu gets lost within two days from th' time yu enters th'Plain, put yore left hand on a cactus sometime between sun-up an'noon, move around until yu are over its shadow an' then ride straightahead--that's south. If you goes loco beyond Last Stand Rock, follow th'shadows made before noon--that's th' quickest way to th' Pecos. Yu allknows what to do in a sand-storm, so I won't bore you with that. Repeatall I've told yu," he ordered and they complied.
"I'm tellin' yu this," continued the foreman, indicating the twoauxiliaries, "because yu might get separated from Frenchy. Now Isuggests that yu look around near the' Devils Rocks: I've heard thatthere are several water holes among them, an' besides, they might beturned into fair corrals. Mind yu, I know what I've said sounds damnedidiotic for anybody that has had as much experience with th' StakedPlain as I have, but I've had every other place searched for milesaround. Th' men of all th' ranches have been scoutin' an' th' Plain isth' only place left. Them rustlers has got to be found if we have to digto hell for them. They've taken th' pot so many times that they reckonsthey owns it, an' we've got to at least make a bluff at drawin' cards.Mebby they're at th' bottom of th' Pecos," here he smiled faintly, "butwherever they are, we've got to find them. I want to holler 'Keno."
"If you finds where they hangs out come away instanter," here his facehardened and his eyes narrowed, "for it'll take more than yu threeto deal with them th' way I'm a-hankerin' for. Come right back to th'Double Arrow, send me word by one of their punchers an' get all the restyou can afore I gets there. It'll take me a day to get th' men togetheran' to reach yu. I'm goin' to use smoke signals to call th' otherranches, so there won't be no time lost. Carry all th' water yu can packwhen yu leaves th' Double Arrow an' don't depend none on cactus juice.Yu better take a pack horse to carry it, an' yore grub--yu can shoot itif yu have to hit th' trail real hard."
The three riders felt of their accouterments, said "So long," andcantered off for the pack horse and extra ammunition. Then they rodetoward the Double Arrow, stopping at Cowan's long enough to spend somemoney, and reached the Double Arrow at nightfall. Early the next morningthey passed the last line-house and, with the profane well-wishes ofits occupants ringing in their ears, passed onto one of Nature's worstblunders--the Staked Plain.