Having made sure that the man was dead, Snap went in searchofhis companions. He found Severn and the ownerofthe XT at the entrance to the Cavern interrogating the man who had been stunned. He was a surly-looking ruffian and sullenly refused to give any information.
Severn turned away. "If he won't talk, string him up, Ridge," he said shortly. "We got no time to waste on fools."
The possibilityofanything but death had apparently not occurred to nhe captive, but at the foreman's words he looked up. "What was yu askin'?" he growled.
"Where is Miss Masters?" Severn said. "An' come clean, or yu'll die so quick hell won't be ready for yu."
"There was a gal here but they took her on to the other cache," the fellow replied.
"Where's that?" snapped the foreman.
"I dunno--never bin there," the prisoner returned. "I ain't throwed in with this crush long an' wish I'd never seen 'em."
"Who was the boss o' this outfit?" was the next question.
"Can't say. We took orders from a square-set chap by name o' Shadwell," the man answered. "Noneofus knew the others well 'cause mostly we had our mugs draped."
Somehow Severn believed that the outlaw was telling the truth. "Yu can take a hoss an' some grub an' beat it outa the country," he told him. "An' if yu got any regard for yore health, don't dawdle." The man slouched away and Severn turned to Ridge just as Lunt came up. "Someof'em musta got clear---there's a passage out to a ledge higher up the rock face. I'm thinkin' that hombre gave us the straight goods--the girl ain't here."
"Pity we missed that fella Shadwell," Ridge regretted. "We didn't," Snap said grimly, and passed on.
Ridge's glance followed him. "Don't waste no words, does he?" was his remark.
Severn smiled. "Point is, what we goin' to do now?"
"Leave a couple o' chaps to search out this other cache an' hike home," Ridge replied. "Nothin' else to do--yet."
Severn agreed. One cowboy from each outfit remained behind with instructions to comb the country and send word immediately they hit upon the second hide-out. The rest returned to their respective ranches.
Chapter XVI
THE daylight raid on the Lazy M ranch and the carrying offofits young mistress, coming so soon after the impudent despoilingofthe bank, aroused a wave of indignation in Hope, the universal opinion being that it was quite time the bandits were vigorously dealt with. But when the news came that this had been attempted, someofthe inhabitants found offence in that. This singular pointofview originated with the sheriff and was carefully fostered by him. He affected to regard the joint actionofthe two ranches as a direct slight, not only to himself and his office, but to the whole settlement.
Thus vindicated his face wore a smug, satisfied expression when he called at the Bar B the following morning. The big man's welcome was not flattering; he had a wholesome contempt for men who allowed him to use them, and did not always trouble to hide it.
"Yo're lookin' pretty pleased with yoreself this mornin'," he sneered. "What's the glad tidin's?"
"I put a crimp in Mister Severn," the sheriff gloated. "If he's expectin' a pat on the back for tacklin' them outlaws he's due for a disappointment, yu betcha."
"Fine," gibed the other. "That'll scare him most to death, o' course. What do yu reckon he'll do--leave the country?"
The complacency vanished from Tyler's face as though wiped away with a sponge. He wriggled uncomfortably in his seat and did not reply. Having thus reduced him to the stateofmind he required, Bartholomew delivered the next blow.
"Yo're a middlin' pore sheriff, ain't yu?" he began. "How long d'yu reckon yu'd keep yore job if I wasn't back o' yu?"
The visitor's puffy, crimson face took on a purplish tint at this home question.
"I know yu bin a good friend, Bart," he quavered. "I never forget it."
"Yu better not," Bart told him grimly. "I'm about the on'y one yu got. When yu goin' to arrest Severn?"
"Arrest him?" goggled Tyler. "Whaffor?"
"Pickin' flowers outa yore front garden, o' course," the big man said with savage irony. "For the murder o' Philip Masters, to begin with."
"But I ain't got a shred o' evidence," the officer protested.
"No, bein' sheriff, yu wouldn't have--others has to do yore job for yu," Bart retorted. "But yu needn't to worry about that; I've got a-plenty."
"Yu can prove he bumped off Masters?" gasped the astounded sheriff.
Bart nodded triumphantly. "He's as good as hanged," he said. "Climb yore cayuse an' I'll show yu."
Half an hour later they rode into The Sink and turned up the little gully where Bartholomew had happened upon the clothesofthe missing rancher. When they reached the bush which concealed the hiding-place, the Bar B man pointed to it, and said :
"Take a peep for yoreself."
Thrusting aside the foliage the sheriff pulled out the wrinkled garments one by one, examining them closely. When he came to the hat his pig-like eyes widened.
"That's Masters' lid, shore enough--they must be his duds," he said. "Hello, what's this?"
Underneath the clothes, and half-hidden at the bottomofthe crack was a gleam of metal. The sheriff reached down and lifted the object into view--a Winchester repeater. The barrelofthe weapon was foul, not having been cleaned since last fired, and on the stock the initials "J.S." were rudely scratched. At sightofthese Tyler emitted a whoop of exultation.
"Them letters stands for Jim Severn, I reckon," he pronounced, with the airofone who has worked out a difficult problem.
"What a head yu got, Hen," Bart said, in anything but an admiring tone. "Allasame, it's possible they might mean John Smith."
The sheriff looked at him doubtfully. "Yu think it's his gun?" he asked.
"I know it is, yu fool," Bart assured him, and at his meaning look Tyler grinned with understanding. "Now, see here," the rancher continued, "put them things back as they was. I didn't find 'em, remember. Yu an' one o' yore deppities, ridin' through here, will notice the tracks, roller 'em up an' discover the duds. Savvy?"
The sheriff did, plainly enough, and his evil little eyes glittered. This would show some of those cheap-wits in Hope what sortofa sheriff they had. He well knew that his reputation badly needed a tonic, and here it was, "made and provided", like the statutes.
"Yu shorely have got brains, Bart," he said admiringly, as he replaced the articles.
As they turned their horses' heads again towards the Bar B Tyler asked, "Anythin' else to tell me 'bout Severn?"
"Yu can charge him with the bank robbery an' shootin' Rapson," Bartholomew replied coolly, and the sheriff fairly jumped in his saddle.
"Yu can prove that, too?" he cried incredulously.
"There'll be no need--he'll do that for yu hisself," the rancher told him."But I thought--" began the bewildered officer.
"Great mistake. Fella like yu shouldn't think--too big a strain on your intellects," sneered Bart. "Lemme do it for yu, Hen; yu'll find it safer."
The sheriff subsided like a burst bladder. He was well aware that he was wholly at the rnercy of this jeering devil, and must obey blindly, for though he knew a little, and suspected much, Bart had never admitted him to his confidence. He was a mere tool, to be used, rewarded or discarded at his master's whim.
"Whyfor did Severn want to abolish Masters?" he ventured. "I figure him an' Embley are after the Lazy M," Bartholomew explained. "An' with the girl outa the way, there don't seem to be much to stop 'em--barrin' me."
"But the White Masks took the gal an' he tried to git her back," Tyler argued.
"Men wearin' white masks, yu mean, same as when the bank was looted," the other corrected. "First off, I thought he was in with the Pinnacles' gang, but I can see now he's just used 'em. They didn't find the girl, did they? Oh, he's clever, damn him."
"What d'yu reckon they done with her?"
"Planted her, likely as not," lied the Bar B owner. "With noheirs--I never heard Masters mention any family--an' Embleyexecutor o' the will, why, it's pie
like mother used to make."
"The Judge has a name for bein' straight," Tyler offered. "The cleverest crook allus has," was Bart's caustic comment. When they parted at the Bar B ranch-house, the owner had afinal word :
"I hear Rapson is better an' is startin' up his bank again. Keep an eye on it; I've a hunch yu'll get yore chance there. Have a coupla yore men allus handy, but don't move till Severn gives yu the invite. I gotta take a little trip an' I'm leavin' this to yu. Bungle it, an' yu an' me take different trails. Savvy?"
The sheriff nodded and went away, the big man's eyes following him contemptuously.
"If I'd 'a' told him it was Sudden he'd gotta arrest he'd be p'intin' for Mexico right now," he soliloquised.
"An' I dunno as I'd blame him much at that," said another voice, and Bartholomew turned to find his foreman.
"Hello, Pent," he greeted. "How'd it go?"
"Easy as takin' a drink," replied Penton. "No trouble a-tall. Yu got the sheriff primed up?"
"Shore, but hang around town in case he wants help," Bart said. "Things is shapin' up right for us, an' I don't want any fool blunders."
**In a rude but strongly-built log shack, hidden in a clump of wind-whipped, stunted pines on the slopesofthe second Pinnacle, was Phil Masters. From the moment when, in the hallway at the Lazy M, masked men had flung a blanket over her head, carried her out and tied her on the backofa horse, her mind had been in a stateofnumbed bewilderment. She was consciousofhaving been jolned about like a helpless sack on the back of a pony through an interminable ride. After the first hour the stifling blanket which muffled her head had been removed and she was able to breathe freely again and look about.
There were four men with her, two riding in front and two behind, well-armed, dressed in ragged range costume and masked. The towering peak far ahead told her that they were pointing for the mysterious region she had once expressed a desire to explore. Her escort took no notice of her, and, if they spoke, did so in whispers she could not hear; it was like riding with the dumb.
Hour after hour they plodded on, and at last, when they were beneath the shadow of the first Pinnacle, a halt was called. The men got down, lifted Phil from her saddle, and the journey was continued on foot up a narrow cliff pathway. She had guessed,ofcourse, that she was in the handsofthe dreaded White Masks, and she now recognised the place from the description Larry had given her. As she toiled up the steep slope she found herself wondering if Severn would come to her rescue.
She spent a sleepless night sitting on a blanket in a black hole adjoining the main cave. In the morning oneofher captors brought bread, bacon and coffee.
"We start in half an hour," he said gruffly.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, but got no answer.
The hot, strong liquid put a little heart into her, but she could not touch the food. Presently the fellow returned and, taking the lantern he had left, motioned her to follow him. Passing through a long, dark tunnel, they climbed a flight of rude steps. Here another man was waiting and, despite her protests, they fastened her wrists together and tied a handkerchief over her eyes. Then came a repetition of the previous day's discomfort. Unable to see the trail ahead, she was entirely at the mercyofher mount, and was jerked and bumped about in the saddle until every bone in her body ached. She had no conception as to where she was being conducted, but she guessed they were still in the mountains, because of the keenness of the morning air and the fact that every slope they descended was followed by a corresponding rise. Greatly to her relief the journey proved shorter than thatofthe day before. It ended at the hut in the pines.
An examinationofher prison promised little prospect of escape. The wallsofstout, untrimmed logs, embedded in a flooroftightly-packed earth, and a massive door secured by a heavy padlock, made the place ideal for the purpose to which it was being put. A mere hole a foot square admitted light and air; from it the prisoner could see only a gloomy curtainofpine branches. The furniture consisted of a pileofspruce tops covered by a dubious blanket, a bench, and a table constructed out of a packing-case which had once contained tinned goods. Phil shuddered as she remembered her own trim little bedroom at the Lazy M. A clang of metal at the door warned her that someone was coming in, and she seated herself on the bench and prepared to present as brave a front as possible. The man who entered was not one of the four who had captured her; he was taller andofslighter build. He did not trouble to remove his slouched hat, and through the slits in his mask she saw ruthless, covetous eyes devouring her.
"Why have I been brought here?" the girl demanded, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.
"Yu'll know that--later," he replied. "All I'm goin' to say now is that yu got one chance, an' on'y one. There's a visitor comin' to see yu an' he'll put a proposition. Agree to that an' yu go free."
"And if I refuse?" Phil inquired, and saw a hateful gleam in his eyes.
"I'm shore hopin' yu will," he chuckled, "for then me an' the boys will have to draw lots to see whichofus yu come an' keep house for--first."
The blood drained from her face as she realised his meaning.
"When is this--visitor--coming?" she asked.
"Oh, he'll be along," the man replied casually, and went out, leaving her a prey to emotions in which fear predominated.
Mingled with it was curiosity as to the identity of the "visitor". This, she decided, must be Severn. All the doubts Bartholomew had instilled came back, and, added to what she herself had discovered, almost convinced her that the foreman, scheming to obtain the Lazy M, was coming to bargain with her. Bitterly she regretted her break with the Bar B owner. Her chief remaining doubt centred about Larry; she could not bring herself to believe that he was in the plot against her.
Consumed with impatience, she disobeyed the injunctionofthe tall outlaw, and was often peeping outofthe apology for a window. But only one man passed, a short, stoutish fellow, under whose pulled-down hat brim she could see a grey beard and the edgeofa black patch which covered one eye. In a flashshe remembered him as the pedesnrian Bartholomew had savagely assaulted in Hope the morning she spoke so plainly. With hunched shoulders he slouched past, not even glancing towards the hut.
Chapter XVII
SOLITARY confinement is the most dreadedofall prison punishments, and after forty-eight hours the girl's nerves were in a pitiable state. During that time she had seen only the man who brought her food, and from him she failed to extract a syllable. Then, on the third morning, when she had almost given up hopeofthe expected visitor, she heard footsteps and the welcome rattleofthe padlock chain. The door opened, and she sprang out with outstretched hands; the man who stood there was Bartholomew.
"You?" she cried. "Oh, thank God ! I was afraid it would be--someone else."
The big man looked down at her, an odd smile on his thin lips; this was a moment for which he had waited long. Perching himself on the makeshift table he rolled a cigarette.
"'Lo, Phil," he said easily. "Pretty mess yu got yoreself into, eh, through trustin' strangers an' turning down old friends."
The girl flushed; she felt the rebuke was merited. "I can't understand it all," she said miserably.
"It's as plain as the biggest kind o' print an' just as I suspected an' warned yu first off," he replied. "Embley an' yore foreman mean to get the Lazy M. These scum here are in Severn's pay an' yu are his prisoner. What he's aimin' to do with yu, I dunno, but my idea is that they mean to force yu to marry that pup, Barton. That'll give 'em yore property, an' if an accident happens to yu--"
He broke off suggestively and the girl gazed at him with horror. "I can't believe that men could be so vile," she faltered.
"Yu don't know 'em, Phil," he assured her. "Mebbe it'll surprise yu to hear that Severn killed yore dad--it's been proved now--robbed the bank an' shot Rapson."
The girl wilted under the blow. She had long given up hopeofseeing her father again, but to learn definitely that he had been wantonly slain was a severe shock.
"An' if I'm
figurin' wrong," continued Bart, watching her narrowly, "what's Embley doin' in this camp?""Judge Embley--here?" she cried in amaze.
Bartholomew contented himself with a nod. Phil tried to think, to find some reason for the presence of her father's friend in this den of thieves, but she could not; the Bar B rancher must be right, she concluded.
"But you'll take me away, won't you?" she asked eagerly. "I'm afraid--horribly afraid."
The man's cunning eyes gleamed with satisfaction; this was the frameofmind he wanted her in.
"Can't say as I blame yu," he returned. "As for gettin' yu away, that won't be easy; it'll depend on yu."
"On me?" she queried.
"Shore," Bartholomew smiled. "Now, here's the point : these fellas are tough, but they ain't anxious to tangle with Black Bart. In other words, they won't interfere with anythin' or anybody belongin' to me. Savvy?"
"I'm afraid T don't," she said doubtfully.
"I'm proposin', Phil," he smiled. "Not, I reckon, in the way a girl likes to have it done, but yu gotta admit the position is a mite peculiar. On'y as my wife will these rogues let me take yu away. The Judge is here to tie the knot, an' if Severn's gamblin' on makin' yu marry his sidekicker, won't it be a jar to find yu got a husband already, huh?"
Phil listened with a sinking heart. However guilty the foreman and his friend might be, she did not want to wed Bartholomew. Yet there seemed to be nothing else to do. Slumped against the wall of the hut she strove to compose her thoughts.
"The Judge rnay not be willing," she temporised.
"When I've had a talk with him, I figure he will be," Bart said grimly. "I know more'n he thinks."
The girl closed her eyes wearily, and in sheer desperation was about to consent when a sibilant whisper reached her ears. "He's lyin'. Don't give in; play for time."
Her start of surprise passed unnoticed by the rancher, who was awaiting her answer with a smileofexpectant triumph. Though she had no idea who the mysterious adviser might be, she was ready to clutch at any hope, and the thoughtofa possible friend gave her courage.
"You must let me have time to consider," she said.
Sudden Law o The Lariat (1935) Page 14
