The Coyote

by James Roberts

  CHAPTER XV

  THE WELCOME

  The afternoon wore on as Rathburn followed the road at an easy jog. Hequickened his pace somewhat when he passed through aisles in thicktimber, and, despite his careless attitude in the saddle, he kept asharp lookout at all times. For Rathburn was carrying some gold andbills in a belt under his shirt--which had been examined and returnedto him at the order of the deputy--and he had no intention of beingwaylaid. Moreover, the man's natural bearing was one of constantalertness. He rode for more than two hours without seeing any one.

  "Strange," he observed aloud. "This road is used a lot, too. Maybe themorning's ceremonies has scared all the travelers into the brush."

  But, as he turned the next bend in the road, he saw a small cabin in alittle clearing to the right.

  Spurred by a desire to obtain some much-needed information, he turnedfrom the road into the clearing and rode up to the cabin. He doffedhis broad-brimmed hat in haste as he saw a girl.

  "Ma'am, I'm a stranger in these woods an' I'm looking for an honestman or woman to guide me on my way," he said with a flashing smile.

  Instead of returning his smile with a gracious word of greeting, thegirl regarded him gravely out of glowing, dark eyes.

  "Pretty!" he thought to himself. "Limping lizards, but she's pretty!"

  "Where are you from?" the girl asked soberly.

  "From yonder mountains, an' then some," he answered with a sweepinggesture.

  "You rode down this morning?"

  "I rode down this morning. Down from the toppermost top of the dividewith the wind singing in my whiskers an' the birds warbling in myears." He laughed gayly, for he appreciated her puzzled look. "I waswondering two things," he continued solemnly.

  "What might they be?" she asked doubtfully.

  "First: Why isn't there more travel on this good road?" he said. "Ihaven't seen a soul except yourself and a--a party in an automobile.Now on a road like this----"

  "Where did you meet the automobile?" she asked in a voice which heinterpreted as eager.

  "Two hours an' some minutes back--and up. Near a truck which had hadsome trouble in the road. Perhaps you heard about it? Turned over onits side in collapse after some free-thinking gents turned their smokewagons toward it."

  It was plain she was interested.

  "Did--is the automobile still there?" she inquired with a breathlesscatch in her voice.

  "Oh, no. After some of the passengers had had a little disrespectfulconversation with me, it went on up the road. Are they scarce aroundhere, ma'am--automobiles?"

  "Not exactly," she replied with a frown. "They truck ore and men andsupplies to and from the mine every day. The reason you've seen so fewpeople to-day is because it's Sunday."

  "Thank you," he said gallantly. "That answers my first question. Youremember, I was wondering _two_ things?"

  Her lips trembled with a smile, but her eyes flashed with suspicion.

  "You will observe, ma'am, that I am not followed by any pack horses orheavily-laden burros," he went on gravely, although his eyes sparkledwith good humor. "Nor is there anything much to speak of in thisslicker pack on my saddle. I need some new smoking tobacco, some newshaving soap, some new hair cut, a bath, a dinner, and a bed--afterI've put up my hoss."

  This time the girl laughed, and Rathburn was rewarded by the flashinggleam of two rows of pearls and eyes merry with mirth. But herreciprocating mood of cheerfulness was quickly spent.

  "You are only a mile and a half from High Point," she said hurriedly."You can get what you want there."

  She retreated into the doorway, and Rathburn saw that the chanceinterview was at an end.

  "_Gracias_, as they say in the desert country," he said, saluting ashe turned away. "It means thanks, ma'am."

  He looked back as he touched the mustang with his steel and saw herlooking after him with a strange look in her eyes.

  "That gal looks half like she was scared, hoss," he reflected. "Iwonder, now, if she got me wrong. Dang it! Maybe she thought I wastrying to flirt with her. Well, maybe I was."

  He thrust a hand in a pocket and fingered the two objects he hadpicked up in the road at the scene of the holdup. Then he pulled hishat a bit forward over his eyes and increased his pace. The town, ashe had half expected, came suddenly into sight around a sharp bend inthe road.

  High Point consisted of some two-score structures, and only a cursoryglance was needed to ascertain that it was the source of supplies andrendez-vous for entertainment of the several mines and all the minersand prospectors in the neighboring hills. Several fairly good roadsand many trails led into it, and from it there was a main road oftravel to the railroad on the edge of the desert in the east.

  Before he entered the dusty, single street, lined with small buildingsflaunting false fronts, Rathburn recognized the signs of a foothilltown where the hand of authority rested but lightly.

  He rode directly to the first hotel, the only two-story structure intown, and around to the rear where he put up his horse and left hissaddle, chaps and slicker pack in the care of the barn man.

  He received instructions as to the location of the best barber shopand speedily wended his way there. He found Sunday was not observed inthe barber shop, nor in the resort which adjoined it.

  "Any chance to get a bath here?" he asked one of the two barbers witha twinkle in his gray eyes.

  He expected a snort of astonishment and a sarcastic reply.

  "Sure. Want it first or after?"

  Rathburn eyed the barber suspiciously. Was the man poking fun at him?Well, he was not a stranger to repartee.

  "First or after what?" he asked, scowling.

  "Your shave and hair cut."

  Rathburn laughed. "I'll take it first--if you have it. An' if youhave, I'll say this is a first-class barber shop."

  The barber led the way to a room in the rear of the place with apleased grin.

  An hour or so later Rathburn, with the lower part of his face a shadepaler than the upper half, his dark hair showing neatly under hisbroad-brimmed hat, his black riding boots glistening, and a satisfiedsmile on his face, sauntered out of the barber shop into the resortnext door.

  A man was lighting the hanging lamps, and Rathburn looked aboutthrough a haze of tobacco smoke at a cluster of crowded gaming tables,a short bar, cigar counter, and at the motley throng which jammed thesmall room.

  He grinned as he read the sign over the cash register:

  FREE DRINKS TO-MORROW

  "Swiped in broad daylight from the grand old State of Texas," hemurmured aloud to himself.

  Then he noticed a small restaurant in the rear of the place, separatedfrom the main room by a partition, the upper part of which was glass.

  He made his way back, passed through the door, and took a seat at thecounter which afforded him a view of the resort through the glass. Heordered a substantial meal and, while waiting for it to be served,studied with calculating eyes the scene in the next room.

  The men were mostly of the hills--miners constituting the majority. Ofprofessional gamblers there were many, and there was also a plentifulsprinkling of that despicable species known as "boosters" whosebusiness it is to sit in at the games in the interest of "the house;"to fleece the victims who occupy the few remaining seats.

  But now he saw a man who apparently was not a miner, or a prospector,nor yet a member of the professional gambling tribe. This was a tallman, very dark, sinewy. He wore a gun.

  At first Rathburn thought he might be a cow-puncher, for he woreriding boots, and had something of the air and bearing of a cowman;but he finally decided that this classification was inaccurate. Anofficer at one of the mines, perhaps; a forest ranger--no, he didn'twear the regalia of a ranger--Rathburn gave it up as his dinner wasput before him on the counter.

  He fell to his meal eagerly, for he had had nothing to eat since earlymorning when he had broken camp high in the mountains to westward.Steak and French "fries" began quickly to disappear, along with manyslices
of bread and two cups of steaming coffee. Then Rathburn lookedup, and to his surprise saw that the tall, dark man was standing nearthe glass, studying him intently out of scowling, black eyes.

  Rathburn looked at him coolly and steadily for a few moments andresumed his meal. But the other was inquisitive and Rathburn sensed,without again looking up, that he was being watched. Was this man,then, an aide of Mannix, the deputy? He doubted it.

  He finished his meal, paid his score with an added cheery word for thecounter jumper, rose, entered the main room of the resort, and walkeddirectly up to the dark man who still was observing him.

  "Was you thinking I was an old acquaintance of yours?" he askedpleasantly.

  The other's eyes narrowed, and Rathburn thought he detected a glow ofrecognition and satisfaction.

  "Did you have your bath?" sneeringly inquired the man.

  Rathburn's brows lifted. Then he smiled queerly. "I sure did. Why? DidI maybe keep you waiting? Was you next?"

  The other's eyes blazed with wrath. "Let me give you a tip, my friend;you ain't right well acquainted in this here locality, are you?"

  Rathburn now noted that they had attracted immediate attention. Thetall, dark man, then, was a personage of importance. He noted anotherthing, too--rather, he realized it by instinct as well as by certainmannerisms. The man before him knew how to use the weapon which hunglow on his right thigh.

  "If you mean was I born here, or do I live here, I'd say no," Rathburndrawled; "but I happen to be here at this precise time so I'd say I'mright well acquainted with it."

  A hush had come over the place. Interested faces were turned in theirdirection, and Rathburn sensed an ominous tremor of keen expectancy.The fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes tightened a bit.

  "This is a poor time for strangers to be hanging around," said thedark man in a loud voice. "The Dixie Queen pay-roll has been takingwings too often."

  The implication and the murmur from the spectators was not lost uponRathburn. His lips tightened into a fine, white line.

  "Whoever you are, you've got more mouth than brains!" he said crisplyin a voice which carried over the room.

  The effect of his words was electric. There was a sharp intaking ofbreath from the spectators. The dark man's face froze, and his eyesdarted red. His right hand seemed to hang on the instant for the swoopto his gun. Rathburn appeared to be smiling queerly out of his eyes.Then came a sharp interruption.

  "Just a minute, Carlisle!"

  Rathburn recognized the voice of Mannix, and a moment later the deputystepped between them.

  "What's the idea?" he asked coolly.

  "This gentleman you just called Carlisle seems to have appointedhimself a reception committee to welcome me into the enterprising townof High Point," drawled Rathburn, with a laugh.

  Mannix turned on Carlisle with a scowl, and Carlisle shruggedimpatiently, his eyes still glaring balefully at Rathburn.

  The deputy again confronted Rathburn. "Had your supper?" he asked.

  "Best steak I've had in two months," Rathburn replied cheerfully.

  "Horse taken care of?"

  "First thing." There was a note of derision in Rathburn's tone."Service at the hotel barn is high grade."

  Mannix's eyes hardened before he spoke again. He hesitated, but whenhis words came they were clear-cut and stern.

  "Then come with me an' I'll show you where to sleep."

  "You mean in jail?" queried Rathburn.

  Mannix nodded coldly.

  "Sheriff," said Rathburn, in a peculiar tone, addressing the deputybut looking over his shoulder directly into Carlisle's eyes; "ifthere's one thing I'm noted for, it's for being a good guesser!"