by Hal Dunning
CHAPTER XXV
THE WOLF MAKES HIS KILL
The next morning the rays of the sun awakened Squint. He groaned andmoved uneasily. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared about inbewilderment, trying to recognize his surroundings. He sat up with aneffort and clasped his aching head in his hands. Once more he openedhis eyes and stared about.
"What the hell?" he cried, amazed.
He buried his head in his hands again and tried to think. The lastthing he remembered, he had been sitting in a back room of a saloon,and now he was in the country. He saw several things when he opened hiseyes again that he had missed the first time. His foot was securelybound by several strands of wire to the trunk of a tree. From the limbof another tree, near by, there dangled a noose with a neatly andexpertly made hangman's knot. Below it was a small boxlike arrangement.His jaw dropped open.
"Sorta looks as if some gent is goin' to get his neck stretched," hemumbled to himself.
He cast an uneasy glance about. There was no one in sight. Near him hesaw a plate of food and some water. He drank deeply and then feverishlybegan to tug at the wire that fastened his foot to the tree. He soondiscovered that the wire was fastened in such a way that he would needthe aid of a pair of wire clippers to free himself. He cast an uneasyglance at the dangling noose. As the moments passed a conviction grewthat the noose was intended for him.
Minutes slipped by, and then he saw four men approach through thetrees. He opened his mouth to shout at them, but shut it with a snapwhen he recognized Slivers Hart. Again he glanced at the noose andagain examined the wire.
The four walked by without speaking and seated themselves just out ofearshot. They soon began to eat a hearty breakfast. Squint glanced atthe plate of food near him, but his hangover and growing fears forbadehis eating.
Hours slipped by, then more hours. Anything was better than thisuncertainty, and Squint raised his voice and called to the four, butthey gave no sign that they heard him. A little later he mouthed atthem in anger.
"What yuh fellers goin' to do? Where am I?"
Again there was no answer. Apparently he did not exist for them. Heshouted vile curses. Always before him was that dangling noose. One ofthe men arose and walked away from the others, then called over hisshoulder:
"Don't worry, Slivers; the boss will be here soon."
Squint shivered and cast an apprehensive glance at the noose. The sunslowly went down behind the hills and the shadows lengthened.
The silence of those men and the sight of the dangling noose furtherupset Squint's already overwrought nerves. He shrieked curses andtugged at the wire until his hands were raw and bleeding. Theuncertainty of the whole thing sapped his courage until he was coweringon the ground, muttering meaningless words.
"Mebbe yuh heard tell of me--I'm Jim-twin Allen."
Squint Lane looked up with a start. He saw a small man who looked as ifhe might be a thousand years old. The man's face was covered withwrinkles; his strange eyes were unfathomable; his voice was flat,expressionless. There was something inhuman in the small man, for hisface showed neither cruelty, anger, nor hate.
Squint swallowed convulsively and then mumbled: "The Killer Wolf."
"Yuh heard tell of me?" Allen repeated.
Squint nodded.
"Who paid yuh to kill Iky Small?"
The wretched man had long passed the time when he could thinkcoherently.
"I didn't do it--he--I swear I----"
"Shut up; that's a lie. If yuh didn't, who did?"
Little by little, Allen drew the whole story from Squint. Squint hadbeen drunk at One-wing McCann's hotel for a week before the murder.Then Boston Jack had come to him and taken him away. Squint was orderedto wait for Slivers at the crossroads and send him back to his ownranch on a wild-goose chase. Squint swore he had known nothing aboutthe murder until afterward. He had once quarreled with Iky Small, andBoston Jack had threatened to hang the murder on him unless he ranaway. Lefty Simms had accompanied him part of the way on his trip.Lefty had been a friend of Iky Small's, and the two had decided, fromvarious things they had heard and known, that Spur Treadwell was theprincipal in the plot against Slivers. They had discussed ways oflevying blackmail on Spur after he was married to Dot.
Jim Allen was disappointed in the little information he had learnedfrom Squint, but it added one more link in the chain of evidenceagainst Spur Treadwell and definitely proved to him that Spur andBoston Jack were partners or at least closely associated. It alsolinked One-wing McCann with both Boston and Spur and made Allen at lastsee light in the tangled financial affairs of the ranch.
Resolving to pay a visit to Boston Jack's place that night, he brieflytold the others what he had learned from Squint and then mounted one ofhis gray horses. With the other one following, he started toward theHard Pan for another attempt to discover its secret.
"The aggravatin' little cuss! He don't tell no one nothin'," Sliversgrowled.
"Yeh, his trail is sure hard to follow," Jack Allen smiled.
All that night Jim Allen rode through the winding, twisting maze ofblind passages and cul-de-sacs in the Hard Pan. But even he, skillfultracker that he was, could find no trail in the flintlike surface.Toward morning, he circled the Hard Pan and reconnoitered Boston Jack'sranch. But here, also, he drew a blank--he could find nothing thatindicated rustling was going on at the ranch.
It was toward dawn when he at last turned and headed back toward thecavvy. He was sure he had reached it without being seen, but in this hewas wrong. It was the two grays streaking through the pale morninglight that had betrayed him and told Lefty Simms who he was. AndLefty's agile brain was busy with plans to trap the Wolf as he headedback to the Double R.
W. A. Raine, the representative of the bank, had arrived at the DoubleR the day before and, accompanied by Spur Treadwell, Bill McAllister,and a dozen cowboys, had started to check the number of Double R cows.
As the day's work progressed, Raine's face grew grave, and BillMcAllister cursed. Where there had been once a thousand cows, therewere now a hundred. Late that evening, when they returned to the ranch,the punchers were already gossiping about the fact that the bankintended to foreclose its mortgage at once.
"Dot, things look mighty bad, but I ain't given up hope yet," Spur toldDot Reed that night.
Her face paled. With an effort she regained her composure. "It's notthe money--but dad loved this place, an' I hate to see it pass into thehands of a stranger."
"Listen, Dot, yuh know I've always loved yuh, an' if yuh'll marry me,some day we'll buy the ranch back again--for I'll work an'----" A shakeof her head stopped him. She looked up at him and asked herself why shecould not care for him--he was kind, handsome, a real man. Yet deepdown in her soul there was something that warned her against him.
"Yuh're still dreamin' of Slivers," he cried harshly. With an effort,he recovered himself. "I'm sorry. Do yuh--do yuh ever hear from him?"
"Yeh, I got a letter from him just the other day. He is goin' to provehe had nothin' to do with the murder of Iky Small an' that he wasn'tnear here when dad---- He has a friend who brought--I mean ishelpin'----" She came to a stumbling halt.
"Yuh mean he has a friend who is helpin' him look up proof. If hebrought yuh the letter, he must be now workin' on the ranch," he saidquickly.
She shook her head in denial, but the fear that had leaped to her eyestold him the truth.
"All right, Dot--I hope--an' yuh know I mean it--that this friend issuccessful," he said calmly, but it was only with a great effort thathe was able to keep his voice steady and not betray the seething hatethat was biting at his vitals.
He would smash her, find this Slivers, and hang him. To be spurned by achit of a girl! He, Spur Treadwell, to be spurned for a homelesscowboy! Instinctively he knew who Slivers' friend was--that boy, for hewas the only new arrival on the ranch. His mind leaped back to thatscene in the bunk house. They had been blind--both he and the twins.Well, it was
not too late to mend that. The twins were in town; hewould go there, start the wheels working that would pauperize Dot; andto-morrow the twins could attend to the boy.
With a savage haste, he saddled his horse and rode furiously towardtown. Dot Reed watched him go, and a growing terror seized her. Thatnight she tossed in her bed until long after midnight, trying to decidewhat was best to do. She remembered that one little slip Allen had madeon that first day when she fed him, and she resolved to speak to himthe first thing in the morning.
At dawn she was up and waiting impatiently for Allen to return from thecavvy. The sun had been up for an hour before she saw him riding towardthe corral. She tried to walk slowly, but her feet would run. He wasunsaddling when she reached him, and he turned and greeted her with abroad smile.
"Howdy, miss."
"Do yuh know Slivers Hart? Are yuh his friend?" she blurted out withoutany preliminary.
"Yep, I answers. Yes, twice. My name is Jim Allen," he answered simply,and then waited for her to go on.
She told him of what she had said to Spur the evening before and of herfears.
"Don't worry none, miss--mebbe I can fool 'em still," he said, grinningat her cheerfully.
"But yuh must go at once. He will bring those terrible twins back withhim--they'll kill yuh!"
"Not any. I'm so darn small I'm plumb hard to hit," he said cheerfully."If I has to run--yuh tell Bill McAllister to keep watch on Hog Butte,an' if he sees smoke rings, first one, then three, to get what men hecan trust an' meet me where the trail rounds Hard Pan toward BostonJack's. Now, don't yuh worry none," he told her, and then walked towardthe cookhouse.
"Where yuh goin'?"
"Me? I'm plumb starved an' I'm aimin' to get cookie to rustle me somegrub," he replied.
She watched him walk nonchalantly toward the cookhouse. She noted hewas wearing a gun in the holster by his side. This added to her fears,for it would give the twins an excuse to kill without any fear ofpunishment.
When Lefty Simms returned to the ranch, he had decided not to hurrythings. He also noticed Allen was wearing a gun. He intended to waituntil he caught Allen at a disadvantage and then, even while he calledAllen's name, he would fire. Thus the whole reward would be his, andhis name would sweep along the border like wildfire as the one who hadkilled the Wolf. He would be the most famous gunman of all time.
He lolled near the bunk house. Half an hour later, he saw Allen stepfrom the cookhouse, glance about and then roll a cigarette. Allensauntered toward the bunk house, where he started to joke with severalriders, who were loitering there waiting for Spur to return from town,when they would take up that day's work of checking the cattle on thenortheastern part of the range.
A minute later, Lefty Simms grinned evilly. Allen had squatted on hisheels against the bunk-house wall. It was practically impossible forhim to draw with any speed while in that position. Lefty loosened hisgun in his low-hung holster and walked slowly toward the outlaw. Hestopped before him and looked down at the small, tattered figure, thengrinned, for the thing was now sure. Allen was in the act of rolling acigarette and had both hands raised before him.
"So yuh're the Wolf!" Lefty said thinly.
The grin left Allen's face. To the left of Simms, he saw three horsemenpounding toward the ranch from the direction of town. He knew theriders were Spur Treadwell and the twins, and something told him thattheir haste was due to him. He made no attempt to deny Lefty'saccusation, for he was going to have to flee, anyway.
"I ain't denyin' it," he replied flatly.
The riders scrambled away and watched the two. From somewhere in thefront of the house, Dot screamed. She also divined Lefty's purpose.From the direction of the corral, Bill McAllister pounded toward thetwo. His gun was in his hand. He realized that the little outlaw hadbeen caught in a fatal position.
"Yuh lost any trouble?" Allen asked, looking up at Lefty.
Not a muscle in his body moved; he still held the cigarette paper andtobacco in his hands. Lefty crouched, his hand hovering like a clawabove his gun.
"I always swore to kill the Wolf on sight," he snarled.
There came a spurt of orange flame, a whirl of smoke, a thunderousreport, and Lefty sagged at the knees and sank to the ground. Evenbefore the cigarette paper that Allen had held in his hand fluttered tothe ground, he had sprung to his feet and was running toward hissaddled horse.
The spectators were still staring in stupefied amazement at Lefty'shuddled body, when there came a thunder of hoofs and Allen flashedalong the corral fence and vanished behind some outbuildings.
"Gosh, he fooled Lefty clean--got a gun out with his left hand from ashoulder holster!" a rider cried in awe.
"Fooled him, hell! He outspeeded him. Lefty was standing all set, andlook--he didn't even get his gun out of the holster!"
"Who is the little runt?" still another asked.
Spur Treadwell and the twins swung into the lane and brought theirhorses to a sliding stop at the group by the bunk house. A babble ofexplanations greeted them.
"That's the Wolf, Jim-twin Allen!" Spur roared. "Go get him! There'sten thousan' on his head, an' I'll clap another five on that to the manwho brings me his scalp."
Men flung themselves on horses and streamed away in pursuit, but allsave Spur's gunmen soon gave up the chase.
The grim-faced killers, however, heavily armed, followed that trailuntil far into the night.
Days passed, and Bill McAllister's eyes were glued on the Hog Butte,but there came no signal from Allen. The bank representative completedhis tally and returned to town. Dot knew that his report would beunfavorable.
At last, the grim-faced killers gave up the chase, and came back to theranch. They reported that they had followed the outlaw's trail as faras the Nations.
Then, just as both Dot and McAllister had decided that Allen had givenup in despair, they saw smoke rings slowly travel upward in the heavy,overcast sky high above Hog Butte. It had rained all day, and the oldhorse wrangler was wet and tired, but when he saw those signs he raisedhis voice in a joyful whoop and then broke into song.
Just at dusk that night, Snoots Stevens and Flat-foot led two graystoward the trail to Boston Jack's that skirted the Hard Pan.
When they reached the place where the trail skirted the Hard Pancountry, Bill McAllister and three other Double R punchers joined them.
"Yuh boys use your ears an' button your tongues, 'cause yuh're apt torun into a bunch of gents what not only outnumber yuh but can fight ahell of a lot better," Bill McAllister warned them.
Just as night fell, it started to rain, a soft, steady drizzle. The menswore philsophically, turned up their coat collars, and rode steadilythrough the night. A little later, they were joined by three other menwho were strangers to them all, except Bill McAllister. The oldwrangler had a short whispered conversation with one of the three, aheavily bearded man, and the little troop plodded on again through thenight.
They rode silently, with no sound save the creaking of the leather andthe occasional clank of a shod hoof against the flint rock. Theytraveled in single file, and the blackness of the night was so deepthat each one could see only the blurred figure of the rider whopreceded him. Somewhere a cougar called, and a little later a heavycrashing in the brush and the nervousness of the horses told them ofthe passing of a bear.
"We're gettin' close. My ol' place is about a mile an' a half to theleft," a whisper came from one of the men riding in the lead.
"Gosh, that's Slivers Hart!" Flat-foot cried.
"I'm sure gettin' curious about this party," Snoots whispered back.
A short distance farther on, Jim Allen loomed out of the darkness andcalled to his brother, Jack. The two whispered together, and then allrode on again. When they were within three hundred yards of BostonJack's place, they pulled up.
"Yuh gents stay put, an' if yuh hear shootin' come a-runnin'," JimAllen ordered them briefly. Then he and Jack, Toothpick, and Sliversdismounted and vanished in the darkness toward the ranch
houses.
Breathless, the men waited behind. Minutes slipped by, and they beganto handle their guns nervously. Then a voice came through the darkness.
"All right. Come on!"
The horses were unsaddled and then turned into the corral. A guard wasset, and the rest trooped into the ranch house. The main room in thehouse was large and square. At one side, there was a big, blazing fire,and the place was lighted by a stable lantern swung from the ceiling.It showed the untidy, dirty traces of several men.
Those who knew Slivers swarmed about him and greeted him.
"Darn my ol' bones, I'm sure glad to see yuh!" Flat-foot cried, as hewrung the boy's hand.
"Say, spill what this here is about," Snoots begged.
"I ain't kiddin' yuh--I don't know. The twins is runnin' this show,"Slivers replied.
Slivers briefly told them how he had been framed and that, while theydid not have sufficient evidence to prove it legally, they werepositive that Spur Treadwell was the instigator of the plot.
"Sure he was--'cause of Dot. Where we goin' now?"
"I dunno. Yuh got to ast the twins; they're runnin' this show," Sliverssaid, grinning at them.
"Them McGills!"
"Not any! Jim an' Jack Allen."
The two swung about and stared at the famous sheriff and the even morefamous outlaw. Then, moved by a common impulse, they drifted toward thefire to have a closer look.
"I ain't sayin' Spur an' Boston didn't rustle Double R cows, but howdid they get 'em out?" Bill McAllister asked. "Disposin' of severalthousan' cows is a darned hard job."
Allen took a large piece of rawhide from a package and laid it outwhere the light from the fire would play on it. They all leaned forwardand stared. It had been taken from a Crossbar Double A cow. Theyfrowned and looked questioningly at Allen, who only grinned at them.
"Shucks, that's a blotted brand. Darned if it ain't an ol' Double R!"cried Snoots excitedly.
"Sure is--plain as the nose on your face!" Bill McAllister exclaimed.
"Sure it is--now yuh look at it!"
"If them Crossbar Double A cows was supposed to have come from a ranchnear here, every one of yuh boys would have spotted them blotted brandspronto," Jim Allen explained. "But seein' they was supposed to havecome from an outfit close to three hundred miles to the east of us, an'the cows bein' vented proper, yuh never thinks nothin' about it. An' ifyour eye did catch anythin' funny, yuh wouldn't have bothered to lookclose, 'cause yuh was sartin they couldn't be blotted Double R cows."
"The skunks!" cried Snoots. "They steal Double R cows, blot the brands,then sell 'em back to the Double R. Pretty slick, I calls it."
"That's why we couldn't get track of any big herds bein' sold that wassuspicious," Bill McAllister said in disgust. He frowned for a momentand then asked a question: "But we buys only twelve hundred head, an'four times that many was stolen. How does that figger out?"
"I'm aimin' to show yuh the rest to-morrow," Jim Allen said.
"Ain't yuh afraid Boston will be comin' a-tearin' back here?" some oneasked.
"Not any. He an' his whole gang left here just afore yuh gents arrived,an' where they was a-goin' is a good fifteen mile from here, so I don'tfigger they'll be back to-night," Allen explained. "I figgered it wasworth the chance for yuh to sleep dry to-night, 'cause yuh sure aregoin' to do a lot of scrappin' to-morrow."
For some time further, the punchers discussed the various phases of therustling, and then they followed Allen's example and curled up by thefire.
Before dawn the following morning, Allen aroused them, and they saddledtheir horses and, after eating a hasty breakfast, took the trail. Theytraveled almost due east. On their left was the Hard Pan country, andon the right the barren stretches that led to the Nations. Just as thefirst light touched the distant hills, Allen stopped and pointed to thesheer bluffs that marked the boundaries of the Hard Pan country.
"Yuh know, I bet I traveled a thousan' mile tryin' to find a trailthrough the darn Hard Pan. But I didn't have no luck, 'cause thereain't none. So I circles aroun' here an' tries the back door, an' fin'show they get in. Yuh see them trees along the base of that bluff?That's where they goes through," he explained.
The men stared at the trees and shook their heads. It seemed as if thebluff continued on in an unbroken line behind the trees. But one amongthem exclaimed in wonder, for the bluff was cut by a smooth slide thatreached clear to the top.
"Shucks, a million cows has come by here," Snoots cried out, andpointed to the chips that carpeted the ground.
Acting as an advance guard, the Allen twins pushed on up the slide; theothers followed a hundred yards behind. At the crest, the trail againdipped sharply and wound its way between the familiar buttes, whichslowly flattened out. Presently, the twins dismounted and waited forthe others to arrive.
"Jack, suppose yuh take Toothpick an' sorta circle to the left, an'I'll wander to the right an' see if they has a guard set. Snoots, yuhcome with me."
Snoots hastily swung from his horse and, after thumbing his nose atthose who were to be left behind, followed Allen through the brushalong the slope to the right. Then, suddenly, Snoots drew his breathand swore softly to himself, for there before them lay a long, widevalley in the very center of the Hard Pan, and there were hundreds ofcows in sight, contentedly munching on the heavy grass.
"If that ain't a rustler's paradise, I hope I never see one," hewhispered.
Allen silenced him with a gesture and pointed to a man about fifty feetbelow them to their right.
"A guard," he breathed.
They watched the man who was squatting in a bit of shade and who wasengaged in some occupation that he found highly amusing. He would burstinto chuckles and then yank at a piece of cord. They could not see whatwas attached to the other end, but Snoots swore angrily.
"What's he doin' to that rabbit?"
Allen flashed a glance at him and then seemed to busy himself studyingthe lay of the land immediately surrounding the guard. Momentarilysilenced by what he saw in the outlaw's face, Snoots aroused himselfwhen he saw Allen start to crawl off to the right.
"Let me go; I'm bigger. I can take him silently," Snoots murmured.
"He ain't goin' to be took prisoner!"
Before Snoots could voice a further objection, Allen had crawledsilently and as rapidly as a lizard behind a projecting rock andvanished. Snoots stared stupidly at the rock a moment and then coveredthe man on guard with his rifle.
Twenty minutes later, they rejoined the other men. Making their way tothe south of the gully, they rode silently to another break in thevalley that led to an obvious cul-de-sac. Concealing their poniesthere, they reached points of vantage above the valley and studied theterrain before them. About a half mile to their right, and almost inthe center of the valley, were two rough huts, in front of which stoodseveral saddled horses. About the same distance to their left, threeother horsemen were driving several hundred cows toward the hut. Midwaybetween these, there was a lone man on a buckskin pony heading for thegully Snoots and Allen had just left.
"He's goin' to relieve the guard," Snoots said.
"He's goin' to join the guard," Allen laughed. Then he added: "Yuh boysstay put an' let 'em all get in afore yuh starts shootin'." Before anyone could raise any objection, he vanished, and presently they saw himadvance coolly toward the lone rider.
"I dunno, but I'm sayin' I'm plumb tickled that I ain't ridin' abuckskin hoss, 'cause that little runt is sure mad an' awful homicidal.
"I ain't sayin' that guard wasn't treatin' that rabbit scandalous, butafter Allen knifed him an' he's coughin' blood, Allen don't pay noattention, but looks broodin'like at that bunny. An' when he picks itup an' sees that its leg is broke, he goes white, an' I'll swear thereis tears in his eyes when he regretfully uses his sticker to end itsmisery."
Snoots stopped, took a chew of tobacco, and then added reflectively:"Damn a knife, I say; it sure ain't no white man's weapon. Yet, Idunno. Some one had to stop that feller from yap
pin', an' a shot wouldsure have mussed up our plans. But he ought to have paid more attentionto the feller he knifed than to the rabbit."
"Sure, he ought to have begged his pardon for stickin' him," Flat-footscoffed.
"Aw, shut up!" Slivers growled.
They sank into silence and watched Allen ride directly toward the manon the buckskin, until he was within two hundred yards. The littleoutlaw made no effort at concealment, but suddenly swung his pony andheaded toward the ranch house. The man on the buckskin fired two shotsand then started in pursuit. At the sound of the reports, several menran from the hut, threw themselves on their ponies, and started to cutoff Allen, now circling to the left.
Still swinging to the left in a wide circle, the outlaw ended bypointing directly toward the riders with the cattle, who were ridingpell-mell to intercept him. Again he swung sharply to the left and,driving forward with the utmost speed, headed toward the gully wherethe cow-punchers lay hidden. Soon after he passed between the twoconverging groups of horsemen, they met and scattered up the gullybehind him.
"He bunched 'em like I would cows," Toothpick said admiringly. "Pickyour man an' let's go."
Thinking they had Allen in a trap, the rustlers pulled their ponies upand were dismounting, when the cowboys' devastating volley took them atpoint-blank range. The rustlers were all desperate men. In spite of thesurprise, they stood their ground and attempted to fight back. Buttheir enemies were concealed, and the rustlers were subjected to adeadly cross-fire, so, at last, what was left of them broke and fled.
Jack Allen, mounted on his big black stallion, and Jim Allen, onHoneyboy, dashed, side by side, after the rustlers. Their horses leapedthe mound of fallen men and ponies in the entrance. The rest of thecow-punchers streamed out from the cul-de-sac after the twins.
"Goshamighty! see that black horse go!" Flat-foot cried.
"Black, hell! Look at that gray! He runs with his belly touchin' thegroun'!" Snoots screamed.
Side by side, faster and faster, the twins overtook their quarry. Thenthey commenced to fire, first with their right and then with theirleft-hand gun. The rustlers started to drop and then scattered. Twojerked their horses to a standstill and held up their hands. The Allensswept by these and rode down the rest like greyhounds after rabbits.One man, and one man alone, reached the huts, and he slumped to hisknees, as he dropped from his horse and tried to gain the house.
"Reckon we bagged the lot," Jack Allen said soberly, and methodicallyreloaded his gun.
"Yeh, an' that feller over by the hut that Jim plugged last is BostonJack himself," Bill McAllister said.
They gathered up the wounded and dead and laid them in rows in theshade of the huts. There were six dead, three mortally wounded and fiveothers injured. Boston Jack had been shot through a lung, and his woundwas fatal. He stared unblinkingly at his captors.
"Yuh aimin' to nuss these here bimbos back to health or are yuh goin'to string 'em up pronto?" Toothpick asked jokingly.
"Now--pronto!" Silent Moore said briefly.
"Naw, let's keep 'em to show Spur," Slivers jested.
The expression on Boston Jack's face changed. His fevered eyes caughtAllen's.
"What's that about Spur?"
"Nothin'--but we're aimin' to keep yuh gents to show Spur afore westring yuh up--to sorta show Spur we----"
Caught by something in Boston Jack's eyes, Allen hastily laid a hand onSlivers' arm.
"Spur--he's comin'? He sent yuh gents here?" Boston Jack asked.
"Sure did," Allen replied easily.
Boston Jack was silent for a moment, then his lips opened and a stringof curses poured forth.
"The dirty double crosser! He'd double cross his own mother! Damn him,tryin' to hog it all! I'd cook his goose, only yuh're his men an'----"He stopped suddenly.
"Naw, we ain't his men. This here is Jack-twin Allen, the Wyomingsheriff," Jim said, beckoning Jack forward.
Boston Jack stared with fevered eyes, then he nodded.
"Yeh, yuh sure is him. An' I knows yuh ain't working for no skunk likeSpur. Come closer, an' I'll tell yuh somethin' that will cut thatdouble crosser's horns," Boston muttered.
Jack Allen knelt beside the dying outlaw, who whispered to him. Hisvoice grew fainter and fainter, and Jack Allen stooped lower and lower,until his ear was close to the dying man's lips. Then Boston sighed andstraightened out. Jack Allen arose to his feet and looked down on thedead man.
"Did he finish?" Jim asked.
"He told me enough to hang Spur a dozen times," Jack answered, "an' Ireckon there'll be others who'll be willin' to save their necks bycorroborating what he said. Usually, crooks will talk to save their ownnecks, so guard these wounded men carefully," Jack said.
Bill McAllister and three men were left as guards, and the rest startedon the return trip to the Double R Ranch. It was not until they hadreached Boston's ranch that Jack Allen told them of what the outlaw hadconfessed. When he had finished, they were all silent for a time, forit was a terrible tale of murder and treachery.
"But even if yuh hang Spur--that won't save Dot her ranch if she signsthem papers this afternoon," Slivers cried suddenly.
"Sign this afternoon?" Jack Allen exclaimed sharply.
"Yep, Bill McAllister tol' me she was goin' to town to-day to see thebank man," Slivers said.
"But she's not to sign until to-morrow--that was the plan Boston andSpur agreed on," Jack countered.
"Hell," Jim Allen cried, "the kid's plumb correct. I'm bettin' thatSpur is figgerin' on doin' just what we made Boston believe he done an'he fixed the signin' a day ahead."
"Then let's get goin'--an' the first man there tell Dot she's gotthousands of cows in that valley all wearin' the Double R brand, an'there ain't no use of her sellin' the outfit!" Jack yelled as he rantoward his horse.
Flat-foot, Snoots, and Slivers were off first. They were followed byJack Allen on his big black, Toothpick on the dun and Jim Allen last onHoneyboy, followed by Princess. For the first two miles, the threeleaders made a terrific pace and drew rapidly ahead. Then, step bystep, they fell back. The big black passed them easily, one by one;then the dun sent her nose ahead. For several miles, Jack and Toothpickled Jim Allen, but at last the two grays rapidly drew abreast and thenahead. They were running like machines.
"Dang me, look at the little runt change hosses! If he does that, nowonder they can run all day!" Slivers cried as Jim Allen, withoutstopping the machinelike gallop of his horses, lightly sprang fromHoneyboy to Princess.
The black pulled abreast of the grays.
"Dang yuh, Jim, don't yuh go tearin' into town by your lonesome," Jackstormed.
"Get that elephant of yorn goin' then," Jim taunted.
Side by side, they raced on for another mile or two, then Jack felt hisblack commence to falter, and Princess shot ahead with Honeyboypounding along behind her.
"No, yuh don't!" Jack cried with a laugh.
And when Honeyboy came abreast of him, he leaned forward, grasped thegray's mane, and swung to his back. Jim saw him and grinned joyfully.
"All right, we'll bust into town like we usta afore yuh was a famousman an' me a disreputable character," he cried.
Side by side, they thundered into town. As they raced down the street,Jim Allen spotted the twins coming slowly from the hotel. MiserJimpson's house was almost directly opposite the livery stable, and so,when Jack flung himself from Honeyboy and hastily ran up the path tothe house, Jim quietly turned into the livery yard and waited for thetwins.
Jack Allen threw open the door and entered old Miser Jimpson's. Hefound several people there. Dot Reed was sitting at a table with apaper in her hand. W. A. Raine was standing beside her. On the oppositeside of the table sat old Miser, while behind him Spur Treadwelltowered above One-wing McCann.
They all turned and stared at the dusty, bewhiskered little man whoentered so unceremoniously. Spur marked his two low-hung guns andlonged for the presence of the twins.
"Who are yuh?" old Miser squealed.
"Me--I'm Jack-twin Allen."
"I've heard of you, Mr. Allen. You did some work for my bank once,"Raine said.
"Is my word good?" Allen asked.
"I would take it," Raine replied promptly.
"Then, Miss Reed, yuh can believe me when I say yuh don't have to signthat paper," he said, smiling at the girl.
She flushed and looked in bewilderment from one face to the other.
"I don't understand! Every one--Mr. Raine, dad's old friend, thedoctor--every one says I must sign or lose everything!"
Spur Treadwell cocked his ears and listened for the coming of theMcGill twins. He saw that old Miser Jimpson had grown pale, thatOne-wing was fidgeting. All knew that the end had come for them, unlessthey could stop this man's tongue or have the twins stop it for them.
Briefly Jack Allen sketched how Jim Allen had returned with SliversHart to help him clear his name, how little by little they had piecedvarious clews together. Then he went on to the events of that day andof what Boston Jack had told him.
Spur Treadwell knew that the little man would utterly damn him inanother minute. He seized the moment when he thought Allen was notwatching to snatch out his gun. There was a crashing roar, and the gunclattered to the floor, while he nursed a broken hand.
As if in echo to his shot, there came a volley from outside. When thelast echo had died and silence again reigned, those in the room sawthat Jack Allen's face had grown white and strained. He knew from thoseshots that his brother had met the twins.
The twins, Sandy and Mac McGill, saw Jack and Jim Allen flash down thestreet on the two grays and pull up before old Miser Jimpson's house.They watched Jack run up the path into the house and Jim lead the twohorses into the livery-stable yard.
The same thought flashed into their minds. They were not sure of Jack,but they now knew the Wolf. Here was the chance to settle that questionwhich had been argued so fiercely for years. Their eyes met, then,without speaking a word, they turned and walked slowly down the streettoward the livery stable.
Gunmen, such as the McGill twins, were insanely proud of theirreputation. This pride did more to rid the West of bad men than all thesheriffs and gallowses put together. Every man must admit that he wasking or fight. There was no place on the throne for two kings. Gunmenwent about with chips on their shoulders and said to all rivals: "AdmitI am the best or go for your gun." A gun fight meant the eliminationfor all time of either the champion or challenger; no one had a chanceto promote a return engagement.
For years it had been argued as to which was the faster, the McGilltwins or Jim Allen. So Mac and Sandy McGill marched down the street toprove definitely to themselves and to the world that they were quickerthan the Wolf.
Their faces were always sinister and cruel, but now they wereexpressionless masks. People took one glance at them, hastily moved outof the way, and then followed them at a safe distance. Every onerecognized the look of the killer and knew the town was soon to havegun play.
When Jim Allen entered the stable yard, the hostler stepped from thebarn to help him loosen the cinches. His mouth opened in an amused grinwhen he saw the two big guns strapped to the slender legs. His eyestook in the tattered little figure as well as the homely, freckled face.
"Don't yuh get tired packin' them two big guns?" he asked with a broadsmile.
Jim Allen grinned good-naturedly at him, but made no reply.
"Say, kid, why for do you pack them guns? There's some real bad men inthis here town, and they might take you seriously and you'd get hurt,"he warned, for he had sudden liking for this boy.
"Maybe so," Allen said with another of his broad, loose grins. "No,don't go takin' the saddle off--'cause I figger I'll be leavin' in ahurry pronto."
"Hell and damnation!" the hostler exclaimed.
Sandy and Mac McGill had turned into the yard and were walking slowlytoward them. The hostler rightly read the look on their faces andseized Allen by the arm.
"Quick, kid, get into the barn! Them devils has lost a peck of troubleand is huntin' for it," he said hurriedly.
Jim Allen turned and shook off the hostler's detaining hand.
"Yuh fool, they'll kill you!" the hostler cried in warning.
Then he thrilled, as he caught sight of the yellow flare in Allen'seyes and heard his low laugh, as he walked forward to meet the twins onstiff legs, like a fighting wolf. The hostler stared with open mouth;he had heard tales about those yellow, flaring eyes, and knew the ownerof them.
"Gosh, the kid's the Wolf!" he exclaimed.
He crouched down against the barn and watched and waited. He saw Allen,hands swinging close to his guns, body loose and swaying, head straightfor the twins, who, moving like two machines and side by side, advancedto meet him. When a scant ten feet separated them, they halted.
They stood there, silent, staring, for a time that seemed to thehostler to be hours.
"Gents, I'm countin' three," Allen said softly.
At that all three went for their guns.
Six big Colts roared together. The barn walls caught and tossed backthe echoes of the reports. As quickly as the uproar started, it hushed.
Mac McGill's hands had flashed faster than the eye could follow to thebutts of his black-handled Colts. But, fast as he was, he was not fastenough. Before his guns came level, destruction smashed against hischest. Both of his guns exploded and the bullets sent up a shower ofgravel at Allen's feet. Then he staggered and sank to the ground.Desperately he raised himself and fired again, then when another slugtore through his neck, he slumped back and lay still.
Sandy McGill's speed had been the equal of Allen's, but as the outlawwent for his guns, he had ducked and leaped to one side. One ofMcGill's bullets tore through Allen's right sleeve, the other creasedhim on the side of the head. Allen's first shot took Sandy in the pitof the stomach; he staggered backward, and again his guns exploded. Buthis eyes were dimming and could not follow the figure that leaped firstto one side and then to the other. Again and again his guns roared; acontinuous stream of fire flashed from the barrels. But each time theyroared and missed, a heavy slug tore into his body. At last, his bodysagged and crushed to the ground. He was dead on his feet before hefell.
Silence settled over everything.
The Wolf stood there peering through the smoke, then he commenced tolaugh--strange laughter that bit into the hostler's ears and left himshuddering--mocking yet mirthless.
Slowly the hostler recovered his senses. He saw Allen stuff freshshells into his guns, then drop them into the holsters. After that hewalked quickly to Honeyboy, tightened the cinch, swung into the saddle,and vanished out the back of the livery stable.
People ran to the livery yard, peered in and then, seeing nothing butthose still bodies, they gained courage and crowded forward. A man,mounted on a dun, swung from his saddle, pushed through the crowd,glanced at the bodies, and gave a sigh of relief.
"The Wolf made his kill," he said grimly. Then catching sight of thehostler, he grinned at him and added: "What yuh think of Jim now?"
"He ain't human," the hostler said. "He was laughin' horrible--jumpin'about like a grasshopper, and his guns goin' so fast I couldn't see'em. No, sir, he ain't no man, nor wolf, neither, 'cause he ain't likenothin' possible."
Jack Allen turned his prisoners over to the local sheriff and then toldthe story as told to him by Boston Jack. This was later corroborated bytwo of the wounded rustlers.
It had been Boston Jack who had discovered that hidden valley. SpurTreadwell had refused to go with him unless things were so arrangedthat no one, except Boston Jack and One-wing McCann, knew of hisconnection with the rustling. They had blotted the Double R brands,driven the stolen cattle into the Nations, then swung them about andsold them back to old man Reed. Slivers Hart's ranch was too close tothe secret entrance to the valley, so Boston and Spur Treadwell framedhim for murder, drove him from the country, and later bought his ranch.
After that things were easy. Men each night kept the cattle d
riftingfrom the south of the range to the north, so it was easy for therustlers to drive fifty or a hundred head each night into the hiddenvalley. Later, after Dot Reed had been forced to sell and the three hadbought the ranch through an agent, they planned to return the cattlefrom the hidden valley to the open range. It was arranged that the dayafter Dot Reed signed away her ranch, Spur was to collect a number ofhonest punchers and raid the valley, wipe out the rustlers, and thusremove all men who even suspected his dishonesty. Boston Jack, ofcourse, would not be there. But Boston Jack, when the valley was raidedby Allen's men, believed that Spur had tried to double cross him andget rid of him at the same time he removed the rustlers. Hence, he hadtold what he knew.
"An' who killed old man Reed?" Slivers asked.
"The twins," said Jack. "Then they killed the two rustlers, who, theythought, knew too much, and so they downed two thirds with onestone--got rid of Mr. Reed and silenced two tongues."
Dot Reed, her arm around Slivers, had listened in silence.
"And where is the--the Jim Allen now? I want to thank him," she said.
"I'm goin' to join him pronto--but he won't come back here, I reckon,"Toothpick said, with a grin at the sheriff.
"You know where he is?" the sheriff asked sharply.
"Yuh figurin' on arrestin' him?" Toothpick asked sarcastically.
"Yuh is a fool if yuh does," the hostler warned. "'Cause your familywill sure wear crape if yuh starts after him. I tells yuh the littledevil ain't human."
"Of course, it's my duty--but I've only been married a couple ofmonths, so I reckon I'll let the Wolf live a while," the sheriff saidwith a grin. He turned and looked at Spur Treadwell and One-wing McCann.
"Reckon I'll rest content puttin' the rope around these gents' necks,"he added after a moment.
Six weeks later he did.
THE END.
