Conscious of Turtle's scrutiny, brief as it had been, Di wished that she could inform her companions that this was
the man they had come to meet. However, such was her faith in Ole Devil and Tommy, she felt sure that such an explanation would not be necessary. She had described Turtle for their benefit while riding to the town. Men of their ability could be counted upon to keep their eyes open and wits about them under such trying conditions. So they were sure to have already seen him and made a correct identification.
While the Texian and the little Oriental were justifying the girl's faith in their powers of observation, having noticed that Turtle was present, they were not devoting their entire attention to him. Instead, once they had seen and recognized him, they were studying the other occupants of the room.
Some of the furnishings of the barroom, particularly the counter, left much to be desired in style and elegance and made one fitting seem out of place. Taken from a wrecked vessel—^which had gone aground on a local reef—having survived the impact and being brought ashore in a small boat, a large mirror was attached to the wall behind the bar. It was a fixture regarded with mixed feelings by the customers. However, as three men had already been killed because their behavior had been considered a menace to its existence and safety, it was now an accepted feature of the hotel.
While crossing the room, Ole Devil and Tommy were taking advantage of the mirror's most controversial and, to some of the clientele's way of thinking, objectionable qualities. Looking at the reflections on its surface, which was cleaned daily even though other parts of the establishment might not be, they were able to watch the people to their rear as well as keeping those in front and to either side under observation. They could tell that their arrival was a source of considerable interest and speculation, but that was only to have been expected. Strangers must be even rarer in San Phillipe since the struggle for independence had commenced than they had been in more peaceful times.
^ J. T. EDSON
However, in spite of their curiosity, the majority of the customers had no intention of attempting to satisfy it. Many of them were residents of the town and most of the remainder had visited the hotel often enough to be aware of its most stringently enforced rule. Not only did the tall young man look as mean as hell and might prove dangerous if riled, but the fact that he and one of his companions carried rifles was significant. It suggested that they were sufficiently trusted by Cole Turtle to have the right to be armed in such a manner. Visitors who were less favored were compelled by Chariie Slow-Down to leave outside all but the weapons upon their persons.
Four men, who were occupying a table to the left of the door, struck Ole Devil as being more than casually interested in his party's arrival. Dressed in the kind of clothing which would evolve into the attire of the Texas cowhand, they were unshaven and travel-stained. Empty plates, a coffeepot and cups in front of them implied that they had not been present for long. In fact, even as the Texian gave the quartet his attention, a giri with a tray arrived and cleared the table.
Although Ole Devil could not recollect the circumstances, he was certain that he had come into contact with at least one of the quartet recently. However, he was unable to make a more extensive examination. Seated with his back to the trio, the man had been looking over his shoulder. Then, turning his head to the front, he began to speak to his companions.
Before the Texiafi could decide whether he was correct in his assumption, he saw certain disturbing movements by the rest of the quartet. The man nearest to the door and the one at the far side of the table dropped their hands out of his range of vision. However, the behavior of the last man supplied a clue to what they might be doing. He reached across with his right hand and grasped the butt of the pistol which
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was thrust through the left side of his belt. Before he could draw the weapon, an angry comment from the fi
rst to have attracted Ole Devil's attention caused him to refrain. If the way in which he glared at the mirror was any guide, he had been warned that his actions might have been seen via its reflection. He did not appear to be too pleased with what he was told next, but scowled and spoke heatedly.
After a brief discussion, the man with his back to Ole Devil shoved aside his chair and stood up. The rest also rose, with the second and third of them taking care to keep their right hands concealed behind their backs. Throwing another brief look across the room, the first man strode out of the door.
Suddenly, Ole Devil's memory clicked. Unless he was mistaken, the man had been a member of Madeline de Moreau's gang of renegades and had fled with her when Company "C" had put in its appearance to rout them.
Even as Ole Devil was reaching his conclusions regarding the identity of the man who was leaving the San Phillipe Hotel, he became aware of something else. Instead of following Dodd, as he remembered having heard their companion called, the other three from the table were walking toward the bar. They might merely be intending to buy drinks, but he doubted it.
In fact, the young Texian felt sure that two of the approaching men were holding cocked pistols concealed behind their backs!
If that was so, there could be only one reason for the three renegades' actions!
YOU COULD SAY THEY'RE ON OUR SIDE
"What do you make of it, Mister Blaze?" asked the sentiy who was posted on top of the slope overlooking Santa Cristobal Bay, at about the time that—some fifteen miles to the north—Ole Devil Hardin was identifying the member of Madelme de Moreau's band of renegades in the San Phillipe Hotel. Holding his voice down, he peered through the darkness m an attempt to see the approaching riders who, as yet he could only hear. Failing to do so, he went on, "It can't be Cap'n Devil, Di 'n' Tommy. There's more 'n three of 'em and they're coming from the southwest."
"That's the living truth," Mannen Blaze conceded, sound-mg as if he was still more than half asleep. He had, however been sufficiently awake to pick up and fit a five shot maga-zme mto his Browning slide repeater rifle before leaving his blankets. "It's not them. You did right to call me."
"It might be some of your men from the mule train " Beauregard Rassendyll suggested, having been disturbed when the sentry had arrived to report to his superior that he had heard riders in the distance and had accompanied them to investigate.
"Only they ain't coming from the right direction for that, neither," the enlisted man pointed out, wondering somewhat irascibly why the dude—^whom he had not bothered to waken —had come with them. "On top of which, they've been told to stay put 'n' guard the mules. And Cap'n Devil don't take kindly to folks going again' his orders."
"Who do you think it can be, Mannen?" Rassendyll inquired, far from pleased at the sentry's faintly derisive attitude; which had not been in evidence while the man was addressing the burly redhead.
"I wouldn't know and couldn't even start to guess," Mannen admitted, in tones redolent of disinterest. From the way in which he was speaking, his only desire was to get back to his blankets and interrupted sleep. "Whoever they are, they're not trying to sneak up on us."
"Could be they're just passing by. Mister Blaze," the sentry offered, far from being fooled by the other's air of lethargy. "We haven't got no fire, nor nothing else to show we're here."
"Could be," Mannen grunted, still with nothing to show he found the subject other than a boring interference with the more important business of resting. "I only hope's that's all there is to it."
"You haven't heard anything to suggest they've come across the pickets in that direction, have you?" Rassendyll asked, holding his Croodlom and Co. "Duck Foot" Mob Pistol in his right hand and wondering if he would find use for its special qualities.*
* The Croodlom & Co. "Duck Foot" Mob Pistol and similar weapons had four barrels fixed side by side and splayed out in the form of a fan, so that its bullets would spread when leaving the muzzles. They were popular with prison guards and the officers of merchant ships as a means of quelling an unruly crowd at close quarters.
"A thing like that's not real likely to slip my remembering, mister," the sentry answered indignantly.
"By the Lord!" Rassendyll began furiously, being accustomed to more respectful treatment from members of the lower social orders. "I've had ab—"
"Might he's well if we all talk softer," Mannen put in almost sleepily, but there was a hard timbre underlying his words.
"Sorry, Mister Blaze, sir," the sentry grunted, his attitude vastly different from when he had addressed the former supercargo of the Bostonian Lady. "What do you want for us to do?"
Rassendyll had been on the point of directing some of his wrath and indignation at the burly redhead, but conmion sense took control. Instead, he refrained from speaking and looked at the other with considerable interest. Up to that moment, he had always regarded Mannen as an amiable, exceptionally strong, yet—if not exactly slow-witted—dull and lazy young man who took little notice of what was going on around him.
Suddenly, Rassendyll realized that he had been comparing the burly redhead with Ole Devil and other more obviously competent members of the Hardin, Fog and Blaze clan. Since being left alone with Mannen, he had grown increasingly aware that he might have made an incorrect judgment. Certainly, none of the detail who were guarding the consignment had shown any concern over Ole Devil's departure, or hesitated to carry out Mannen's orders. The sentry's attitude was further evidence that there was more to the redhead than met the eye. Such respect had to be earned and was not given merely because the recipient had had the good fortune to be bom into the right circles.
Having noticed the way Rassendyll had stiffened, then relaxed, but was still continuing to gaze at him in a speculative
fashion, Mannen guessed what had caused the behavior. He was more amused than annoyed by the Louisianan's reaction. If it came to a point, he felt just a mite flattered. While he had never imagined himself to be as briUiant as his cousin Devil, he knew that he was competent enough to carry out his duties without needing to have somebody hold his hand. Yet it was satisfying when others, particularly a smart and capable person like Rassendyll, also appreciated his good qualities.
However, there were more important matters than self-congratulation demanding Mannen's attention. As yet, the approaching riders were still only noises which came ever closer.
The questions which the burly Texian had to answer were, who they might be and, more important, how to deal with them.
Although Mannen did not reply to the sentry's request for orders immediately, indecision was not keeping him silent. Knowing the vitally important issues which were at stake, he wanted to consider the matter before committing himself and his men to any line of action.
Firstly, before any plans could be made, or orders given, there was the matter of the riders' identity to be taken into consideration.
The direction from which the party was coming suggested that they might be members of the Arizona Hopi Activos Regiment, but their apparent disregard for the need to travel silently argued against such a solution. Suspecting that there might be an enemy force in the vicinity, they would not be likely to move through the darkness with so much noise. Unless, of course, they had learned of the consignment and its location, so hoped their behavior would lull the guards into a sense of false security.
Other Mexican soldiers could also be expected to come
J. T. EDSON
from the southwest. If they had not made contact with the Activos, they might beheve that there were no Texians around and therefore see no need to take precautions.
Or they could be renegades. Not Madeline de Moreau's band, who would know better than attempt such a subterfuge. There were other gangs, any of whom would be only too wilhng to make a stab at snatching off such valuable loot if they learned about it.
On the other hand, the riders could be members of the Republic of Texas's Army who had been sent to reinforce Company "C" and increas
e the chances of delivering the consignment safely. They could even be engaged upon some unconnected mission. Knowing how certain sections of the army were conducting themselves, Mannen felt that the arrival of a party who were on the latter kind of assignment might prove a mixed blessing and could even be a disadvantage.
Lastly, they could be no more than a bunch of ordinary civilians running away from the advancing Mexican Army. Such people were likely to make for the coast so as to join the northbound trail. Except that did not explain why they were traveling after nightfall. If the need to do so had been caused by the presence of a hostile force nearby, they should at least have been attempting to move in a quieter fashion. The fact that there had been no warning from the pickets was not such a good sign as it might appear on the surface. There had not been sufficient men available to set out a ring of them through which it would be impossible for anybody to pass undetected. However, especially as the approaching party were not even trying to conceal their presence, they should have attracted at least one of the pairs of lookouts' attention. Once that had happened, following the orders they had been given, a man should have returned to announce that riders were coming. That such a message had not been
received aroused disturbing possibilities. If a picket had fallen into hostile hands, they might have been tortured into betraying their companions. In which case, the men who were coming might act in such a way as to lessen the chances of their true purpose being suspected.
All in all, Mannen found himself faced with one hell of a difficult problem.
"Damn it all!" the burly redhead told himself, with a certain doleful satisfaction which he had found helpful as a means of reducing his tension in times of stress. "Whatever I do about them is bound to come out wrong."
However, there was no sign of indecision in the way that Mannen addressed his companions. From various slight sounds beyond the rim, he guessed that Sergeant Dale had also been aroused when the sentry came to tell him about the riders and was acting in a sensible fashion.
Ole Devil and the caplocks Page 9
