"Did you cross any herd tracks after you left me?" asked Hopalong.
"No; why?"
"An' we didn't cross any before you left," said Hopalong. "If there's been any to see runnin' east an' west we'd 'a' found 'em. That was all hard ground; an' there was th' wind. There wasn't none to find."
"Huh!" snorted Red, and after a moment's thought he looked up. "Mebby that feller found th' cow all swelled up with snakebite, away off from water as he thought, an' just put an end to its misery?"
"Then why did he cut out th' brand?" snapped Hopalong.
"What are you askin' me for?" demanded Red, truculently. "How'd I know? You shore can ask some darn fool questions!"
"Yo're half-baked," growled his companion. "I will be, too, before I get any answer to what I'm askin' myself. I'm aimin' to squat behind a rise north of that water-hole an' wait for my answer if it takes a month. I can get a good view from up there."
Red, whose hatred for deserts was whole-hearted, looked through the darkness in disgust at his friend. "You've picked out a fine job for us!" he retorted. "If yo're right an' they did drive a herd across to th' other side it'll shore be a wait. Be more'n a week, an' mebby two."
"They've got to drive hard between waters," replied Hopalong. "They'll waste no time; an' they won't waste time comin' back again, when they won't have th' cows to hold 'em down. There's one thing shore: They won't be back tomorrow or th' next day, an' we both can ride down an' see th' Kid, an' mebby McCullough. It's too good a lead to throw away. But before we meet Johnny we're goin' to have a better look around, 'specially south an' east."
"All right," agreed Red. "How'd you come to find th' hole?"
"Rode up on a ridge an' saw somethin' green, an' knowin' it wasn't you I went for it," answered his friend. "If it had been made for us it couldn't be better. With water, an' grass enough for night grazin', an a good ridge to look from, it's a fine place for us. We'll take turns at it, for it won't feed two cayuses steady. Th' off man can ride west to grass, mebby back to our camp, an' by takin' shifts at it we can mebby save most of th' grass at th' hole."
"An' mebby get spotted while we're ridin' back an' forth?"
"Th' ridge will take care of that, an' I reckon when it peters out there'll be others to hide us. I'm dead set on this: I'm so set that I'll stick it out all alone rather than pass it by. I tell you I got a feelin'."
"I ain't quittin'," growled Red; "I ain't got sense enough to quit. Desert or no desert I'm aimin' to do my little gilt-edged blamedest; but I'm admittin' I'll be plumb happy when it's my time off. We'll get supplies an' more canteens from th' Kid tomorrow, an' be fixed so we can foller any other lead that sticks up its head. I shore can stand more than ridin' over a desert if it'll give us anythin' on them fellers."
"Here we are," grunted his companion, swinging from the saddle. "Finest, coldest water you ever drunk. I'm puttin' double hobbles on my cayuse tonight, just to make shore."
"Me, too," said Red, dismounting.
In the morning they rode up for a look along the ledge, found that it would answer their requirements and then went southeast, curving further into the desert, and it was not long before Red's roving glance caught something which aroused his interest and he silently rode off to investigate, his companion going slowly ahead. When he returned it was by another way and he rode with his eager eyes searching the desert beneath and ahead of him. Reaching his friend, who had stopped and also was scanning the desert floor with great intentness, he nodded in quiet satisfaction.
"Think you see 'em, too?" he smilingly inquired. "They're so faint they can't hardly be seen, not till you look ahead, an' then it's only th' difference between this strip of sand that we're on an' th' rest of th' desert. It's a cattle trail, Hoppy; I just found another water-hole, a big one. Th' bank was crowded with hoof marks, cattle an' cayuses. Looks like they come from th' west, bearin' a little north. Th' only reason we didn't see 'em when we rode down was because they was on hard ground. That shore explains th' dead cow."
"An' in a few hours more," said his companion, "this powdery dust will blot 'em out. If they was clearer I'd risk follerin' them, even if we only had a canteen apiece. We can ride as far between waters as they can drive a herd, an' a whole lot farther. It's only fearin' that th' trail will disappear that holds me back."
"We don't have to risk it yet," said Red, grimly. "We've found out where they cut in an' how they start across; an' all we got to do is to lay low up there an' wait for 'em to come back, or start another herd across, to learn who they are."
"If we wait for their next drive we can foller 'em on a fresh, plain trail, an' be a lot better prepared," supplemented Hopalong. "I reckon we're shore goin' to fatten our comeback!"
"It's pickin' up fast," gloated his friend. "All we got to do is watch that big water-hole' an' we got 'em. There ain't so many water-holes out on this skillet that they can drive any way they like. We'll camp at th' little one, of course, but we can lay closer to th' big one nights."
"An' from th' ridge up yonder th' man on day watch can see for miles."
"Yes; an' fry, an' broil, an' sizzle, an' melt!" muttered Red. "Blast 'em!"
Hopalong had wheeled and was leading the way into the southwest as straight as he could go for the meeting with Johnny, and Red pushed up past him and bore a little more to the west. They had seen all they needed to see for the day, and they had made up their minds.
At last after a long, hot ride they reached the bluffs marking the side of the plateau and soon were winding down a steep-walled arroyo which led to the plain below, and the country began to change with such insensible gradations that they hardly noticed it. Sage and greasewood became more plentiful and after an hour had passed an occasional low bush was to be seen and the ground sloped more and more in front of them. A low fringe of greenery lay along the distant bottom, where Sand Creek or some other hidden stream came close to the top of the soil, later to issue forth and become the stream into which the Question-Mark's creek later emptied. They crossed this and breasted an opposing slope, followed around the base of a low ridge of hills and at last stopped under a clump of live-oak and cottonwoods in the extreme east end of the Question-Mark valley.
While the two friends were riding toward the little clump of trees west of the Question-Mark ranch visitors rode slowly up to the door of the ranchhouse and one of them dismounted. The shield he wore on his open vest shone in the sun with nickel brightness, but his face was anything but bright. The job which had been cut cut for him was not to his liking and had destroyed his peace of mind, and the peace of mind of the two deputies, who needed no reflection upon their subordinate positions to keep them in the sheriff's rear. What little assurance they might have started with received a jolt soon after they had left town, when a gruff and unmistakably unfriendly voice had asked, with inconsiderate harshness and profanity, their intended destination and their business. At last allowed to pass on after quite some humiliation from the hidden sentries, they now were entering upon the dangerous part of their mission.
Corwin stepped up to the door and knocked, a formality which he never dispensed with on the Question-Mark. Other visitors usually walked right in and found a chair or sat on the table, but it never should be said to Corwin's discredit that an officer of the law was rude and ignorant in such a well-known and long-established form of etiquette. So Sheriff Corwin knocked.
"Come in!" impatiently bawled a loud and rude voice.
The sheriff obeyed and looked around the door casing. "Ah, hello, Mac," he said in cheery greeting.
"Mac who?" roared the man at the table.
"McCullough," said the man at the door, correcting himself. "How are you?"
"Yo're one full-blooded blame fool of a sheriff," sneered the trail-boss. "Where's them two prisoners I been waitin' for?"
"They got away. Somebody helped 'em bust th' jail. I sent word back to you by yore own men."
"Shore, I got, it; I know that. That's no excuse a-tall!" retorted the t
rail-boss. "I went an' sent word down to Twitchell on th' jump that his fool way worked an' that I was goin' to send him th' men he wanted. Then you let 'em bust out of jail! Fine sort of a fool you made of me! Where's yore reward now, that you was spendin' so fast? An' what'll Twitchell say, an' do? He wants th' bank robbers, not excuses; an' more'n all he wanted th' man that shot Ridley. It ain't only a question of per-tectin' th' men workin' for him, but it's personal, too. Ridley was an old friend of his'n—an' he'll raise ned till he gets th' man that killed him. What about it? What have you done since they got away?"
"We trailed 'em, but they lost us," growled Corwin. "Reckon they got up on that hard ground an' then lit out, jumpin' th' country as fast as they could. Kane had it on 'em, cold an' proper—but I had my doubts, somehow. I ain't quittin'; I'm watchin' an' layin' back, an' I'm figgerin' on deliverin' th' man that got Ridley."
"You mean Long an' Thompson are innocent?" demanded McCullough with a throaty growl. "Yo're sayin' it yoreself! What was you tryin' to run on me, then?"
"They must 'a' robbed th' bank," replied the sheriff; "but I got my own ideas about who killed yore friend. This is between us. I'm waitin' till I get th' proof; an' after I get it, an' th' man, I'll mebby have to leave th' country between sunset an' dawn. I ain't no dog, an' I'm gettin' riled."
"Then it was Kane who cold-decked them two fellers?" demanded McCullough.
"I ain't sayin' a word, now," replied the sheriff. "Not yet, I ain't, but I'm aimin' to get th' killer. Where's that Nelson?"
"What you want with him?" asked the trail-boss. "Reckon he done it?"
"No; he didn't," answered Corwin. "He only helped them fellers out of jail, an' I'm goin' to take him in."
"What?" shouted McCullough, and then burst out laughing. "I'm repeatin' what I said about you bein' full-blooded! Say, if you can turn that trick I won't raise a hand—not till he's in jail; an' then I'll get him out cussed quick. He's workin' for me, an' he didn't do no crime, gettin' a couple of innocent men out of that mud hut; an', besides, I don't know that he did get 'em out. Go after him, Corwin; go right out after him." He glanced out of the window again and chuckled. "I see you brought some of yore official fam'bly along. Shucks! That ain't no way to do, three agin' one. An' I heard you was a bad hombre with a short gun!"
"It ain't no question of how bad I am!" retorted the sheriff. "We want him alive."
"Oh, I see; aim to scare him, bein' three to one. All right; go ahead—but there ain't goin' to be no pot-shootin'. Tell yore fam'bly that. I mean it, an' I cut in sudden th' minute any of it starts."
"There won't be no pot-shootin'," growled the sheriff, and to make sure that there wouldn't be any he stepped out and gave explicit instructions to his companions before going toward the smaller corral. When part way there he heard whistling, wheeled in his tracks and went back to the bunkhouse, hugging the wall as he slipped along it, his gun raised and ready for action.
Johnny turned the corner, caught sight of the two deputies, who held his suspicious attention, and had gone too far to leap back when he saw Corwin flattened against the wall and the sheriff's gun covering him. Presumably safe on a friendly ranch, he had given no thought to any imminent danger, and now he stood and stared at the unexpected menace, the whistling almost dying on his pursed lips.
"Nelson!" snapped the sheriff, "yo're under arrest for helpin' in that jail delivery. I'll shoot at th' first hostile move! Put up yore hands an' turn 'round!"
Johnny glanced from him to the deputies and thought swiftly. Three to one, and he was covered. He leaned against the wall and laughed until he was limp. When he regained control of himself he blinked at the sheriff and drew a long breath, which nearly caused Corwin to pull the trigger; but the sheriff found it to be a false alarm.
"What th' devil makes you think I was mixed up in that?" he asked, laughing again. He drew another long breath with unexpected suddenness, and again the nervous sheriff and the two deputies nearly pulled trigger; and again it was a false alarm.
"I've done my thinkin'!" snapped Corwin. "Watch him, boys!" he said out of the corner of his mouth. "An' if you wasn't mixed up in it you won't come to no harm."
"No; not in a decent town," rejoined Johnny, leaning against the wall again, where Corwin's body somewhat sheltered him from the deputies. The sheriff tensed again at the movement. "But Mesquite's plumb full of liars,'" drawled Johnny, "trained by Kane. How do I know I'll get a square deal?"
"You'll get it! Put 'em up!" snapped Corwin, raising his gun to give the command emphasis, and it now pointed at the other's head.
"Long an' Thompson—" began Johnny, and like a flash he twisted sidewise and jerked his head out of the line of fire, the bullet passing his ear and the powder scorching his hair. As he twisted he slipped in close, his left hand flashing to Corwin's gun-wrist and the right across his body, tore the weapon from its owner's hand. The movement had been done so quickly that the sheriff did not realize what had occurred until he found himself disarmed and pressing against his own weapon, which was jammed into his groin. Johnny's left-hand gun had leaped into the surprised deputies' sight at the sheriff's hip and they lost no time in letting their own guns drop to the ground in instant answer to the snapped command. Corwin's momentary surprise died out nearly as quickly as it was born and, scorning the menace of the muzzle of his own gun, he grabbed Johnny. As he shifted his foot Johnny's leg slipped behind it and a sudden heave turned the sheriff over it, almost end over end, and he struck the ground with a resounding thump. Johnny sprang back, one gun on the sheriff, the other on the deputies.
"Get off them cayuses," he ordered and the two men slowly complied. "Go over near th' corral, an' stay there." In a moment he gave all his attention to the slowly arising officer.
"All this was unnecessary," he said. "You put us all in danger of bein' killed. Don't you never again try to take me in till you know why yo're doin' it! My head might 'a' been blowed off, an' all for nothin'! You don't know who busted that jail, judgin' by yore fool actions, an' you cussed well know it. You got plenty of gall, comin' down here an' throwin' a gun on me, for that! I'm sayin', frank, that whoever done that trick did th' right thing; but that ain't sayin' that I did it. Hope I didn't hurt you, Corwin; but I had to act sudden when you grabbed me."
"Don't you do no worryin' on my account!" snapped the sheriff.
"I ain't blamin' you for doin' yore duty, if you was doin' it honest," said Johnny; "but you ain't got no business jumpin' before yo're shore. I ain't holdin' th' sack for nobody, Corwin; Kane or nobody else. Now then: you can tell what proof you got that it was me that busted th' jail."
Corwin was watching the smiling face and the accusing eyes and he saw no enmity in either. "Then who did?" he demanded.
Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "Quien sabe?" he asked. "There's a lot of people down here that would have more reason to do a thing like that, even for strangers, than I would. You ain't loved very much, from what I've heard. I don't want any more enemies than I got; but I'm tellin' you, flat, that I ain't goin' back with you; an' neither would you, if you was in my place, in a strange town. Here," he said, letting the hammer down and tossing the gun at the sheriff's feet, "take your gun. I'm glad you ain't hurt; an' I'm cussed glad I ain't. But somebody's shore goin' to be th' next time you pull a gun on me on a guess. You want to be dead shore, Corwin. We've had enough of this. Did you get any trace of them two?"
The sheriff watched his opponent's gun go back into its holster and slowly picked up his own. "No; I ain't," he admitted, and considered a moment as he sheathed the weapon with great care. "I ain't got nothin' flat agin' you," he said; "but I still think you had a hand in it. That's a good trick you worked, Nelson; I'm rememberin' it. All right; th' next time I come for you I'll have it cold; an' I'm shore expectin' to come for you, an' Idaho, too."
"That's fair enough," replied Johnny, smiling; "but I don't see why you want to drag Idaho in it for. He didn't have no more to do with it than I did."
"I'm
believin' that, too," retorted the sheriff; "since you put it just that way. I haven't heard you say that you didn't do it. Before I go I want to ask you a question: Where was you th' night th' Diamond L lost them cows?"
"Right here with Mac an' th' boys."
"He was," said McCullough. "Yo're ridin' wide of th' trail, Corwin."
"Mebby," grunted the sheriff. "There's two trails. I mebby am plumb off of one of 'em, as long as you know he was down here that night; but I'm ridin' right down th' middle of th' other. When did you meet Long an' Thompson first?" he asked, wheeling suddenly and facing Johnny.
"Thinkin' what you do about me," replied Johnny, "I'd be a fool to tell you anythin', no matter what. So, as long as yo're ridin' down th' middle you'll have to read th' signs yoreself. Some of 'em must be plumb faint, th' way yo're guessin', an' castin' 'round. Get any news about them rustlers?"
"What's th' use of makin' trouble for yoreself by bein' stubborn?" asked McCullough. He looked at Corwin. "Sheriff, I know for shore that he never knowed any Bill Long or Red Thompson until after he come to Mesquite. What news did you get about th' rustlers?"
"Huh!" muttered Corwin, searching the face of the trail-boss, whose reputation for veracity was unquestioned. "I ain't got any news about 'em. Once they got on th' hard stretch they could go for miles an' not leave no trail. I'm figgerin' on spendin' quite some time north of where Lukins' boys quit an' turned back. There's three cows missin' that are marked so different from any I've ever seen that I'll know 'em in a herd of ten thousan' head; an' when they're cut out for me to look at there's some marks on horns an' hoofs that'll prove whose cows they are. I'm takin' a couple of his boys with me when I go, to make shore. Of course, I don't know that we'll ever see 'em, at all. Well," he said, turning toward his horse, "reckon I'll be goin'." He waved to the deputies, who approached, picked up their guns under Johnny's alert and suspicious scrutiny, and mounted. "As for you. Nelson, next time I'll be dead shore; an' I'll mebby shoot first, on a gamble, an' talk afterward. So-long."
Hopalong Cassidy Sees Red Page 17
