Gunsight Pass: How Oil Came to the Cattle Country and Brought a New West
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CHAPTER XVIII
DOBLE PAYS A VISIT
"Hello, the Jackpot!"
Out of the night the call came to the men at the bunkhouse.
Bob looked at his companion and grinned. "Seems to me I recognize thatmelojious voice."
A man stepped from the gloom with masterful, arrogant strides.
"'Lo, Hart," he said. "Can you lend me a reamer?"
Bob knew he had come to spy out the land and not to borrow tools.
"Don't seem to me we've hardly got any reamers to spare, Dug," drawledthe young man sitting on the porch floor. "What's the trouble? Got a kinkin yore casin'?"
"Not so you could notice it, but you never can tell when you're goin' torun into bad luck, can you?" He sat down on the porch and took a cigarfrom his vest pocket. "What with losin' tools and one thing an' 'nother,this oil game sure is hell. By the way, how's yore fishin' job comin'on?"
"Fine, Dug. We ain't hooked our big fish yet, but we're hopeful."
Dave was sitting in the shadow. Doble nodded carelessly to him withoutrecognition. It was characteristic of his audacity that Dug had walkedover impudently to spy out the camp of the enemy. Bob knew why he hadcome, and he knew that Bob knew. Yet both ignored the fact that he wasnot welcome.
"I've known fellows angle a right long time for a trout and not catchhim," said Doble, stretching his long legs comfortably.
"Yes," agreed Bob. "Wish I could hire you to throw a monkey wrench inthat engine over there. Its chuggin' keeps me awake."
"I'll bet it does. Well, young fellow, you can't hire me or anybody elseto stop it," retorted Doble, an edge to his voice.
"Well, I just mentioned it," murmured Hart. "I don't aim to rile yorefeelin's. We'll talk of somethin' else.... Hope you enjoyed that reunionthis week with yore old friend, absent far, but dear to memory ever."
"Referrin' to?" demanded Doble with sharp hostility.
"Why, Ad Miller, Dug."
"Is he a friend of mine?"
"Ain't he?"
"Not that I ever heard tell of."
"Glad of that. You won't miss him now he's lit out."
"Oh, he's lit out, has he?"
"A li'l bird whispered to me he had."
"When?"
"This evenin', I understand."
"Where'd he go?"
"He didn't leave any address. Called away on sudden business."
"Did he mention the business?"
"Not to me." Bob turned to his friend. "Did he say anything to you aboutthat, Dave?"
In the silence one might have heard a watch tick, Doble leaned forward,his body rigid, danger written large in his burning eyes and clenchedfist.
"So you're back," he said at last in a low, harsh voice.
"I'm back."
"It would 'a' pleased me if they had put a rope round yore neck, Mr.Convict."
Dave made no comment. Nobody could have guessed from his stillness howfierce was the blood pressure at his temples.
"It's a difference of opinion makes horse-races, Dug," said Bob lightly.
The big ex-foreman rose snarling. "For half a cent I'd gun you here andnow like you did George."
Sanders looked at him steadily, his hands hanging loosely by his sides.
"I wouldn't try that, Dug," warned Hart. "Dave ain't armed, but I am. Myhand's on my six-shooter right this minute. Don't make a mistake."
The ex-foreman glared at him. Doble was a strong, reckless devil of afellow who feared neither God nor man. A primeval savagery burned inhis blood, but like most "bad" men he had that vein of caution in hismake-up which seeks to find its victim at disadvantage. He knew Hart toowell to doubt his word. One cannot ride the range with a man year in,year out, without knowing whether the iron is in his arteries.
"Declarin' yoreself in on this, are you?" he demanded ominously, showinghis teeth.
"I've always been in on it, Dug. Took a hand at the first deal, the dayof the race. If you're lookin' for trouble with Dave, you'll find it goesdouble."
"Not able to play his own hand, eh?"
"Not when you've got a six-shooter and he hasn't. Not after he has justbeen wounded by another gunman he cleaned up with his bare hands. You andyore friends are lookin' for things too easy."
"Easy, hell! I'll fight you and him both, with or without guns. Any time.Any place."
Doble backed away till his figure grew vague in the darkness. Came thecrack of a revolver. A bullet tore a splinter from the wall of the shackin front of which Dave was standing. A jeering laugh floated to the twomen, carried on the light night breeze.
Bob whipped out his revolver, but he did not fire. He and his friendslipped quietly to the far end of the house and found shelter round thecorner.
"Ain't that like Dug, the damned double-crosser?" whispered Bob. "Ireckon he didn't try awful hard to hit you. Just sent his complimentskinda casual to show good-will."
"I reckon he didn't try very hard to miss me either," said Dave dryly."The bullet came within a foot of my head."
"He's one bad citizen, if you ask me," admitted Hart, without reluctance."Know how he came to break with the old man? He had the nerve to startbeauin' Miss Joyce. She wouldn't have it a minute. He stayed right withit--tried to ride over her. Crawford took a hand and kicked him out.Since then Dug has been one bitter enemy of the old man."
"Then Crawford had better look out. If Doble isn't a killer, I've nevermet one."
"I've got a fool notion that he ain't aimin' to kill him; that maybe hewants to help Steelman bust him so as he can turn the screws on him andget Miss Joyce. Dug must 'a' been makin' money fast in Brad's company.He's on the inside."
Dave made no comment.
"I expect you was some surprised when I told Dug who was roostin' on thestep so clost to him," Hart went on. "Well, I had a reason. He was due tofind it out anyhow in about a minute, so I thought I'd let him know wewasn't tryin' to keep him from knowin' who his neighbor was; also that Iwas good and ready for him if he got red-haided like Miller done."
"I understood, Bob," said his friend quietly.