CHAPTER XIX
MARYSVILLE
Judge Allison, portly and forty, sat on the porch of the Sunrise Hotelin Marysville. The judicial hands were clasped over the judicialstomach, and the judicial mind was at peace with all mankind. However,a six-shooter in a shoulder-holster nudged the judicial ribs beneatheach arm-pit. For mankind is peevish and prone to hold grudges, and inorder to secure an uninterrupted term on the bench a judge must beprepared for eventualities.
Tied to the hitching-rail in front of the hotel was a good-lookingsorrel horse. It bore the Barred Twin Diamond brand. Judge Allisonhad bought the horse that very morning. He had bought him from thekeeper of the dance hall, Mr. William Archer, who, it seemed, had fiveothers for sale.
Judge Allison was delighted with his bargain. He knew a horse when hesaw one, and he felt that he had gotten the best of Archer in the deal.True, as Archer had said, the sorrel was a little footsore, but two orthree weeks of light work would cure that.
"Yes," mused the Judge, "a good animal. Sixteen hands high if he's aninch, and I'll bet he can run rings round any cow-pony in thecommunity. By Jove, here come two unusually fine animals!"
Which last remark was called forth by the approach of two big rangyhorses, a bay and a gray. The riders, very dusty, both of them, werehard-looking characters. A week's growth of stubble does not add tothe appearance of any one. They were tall, lean men, these two, andone of them was exceedingly swarthy.
They dismounted at the hitching-rail, tossed the reins over theirhorses' heads, and went into the bar. Both, as they passed, glancedcasually at the Judge's sorrel.
"Flying Diamond A," said the judge to himself, eying the strangers'mounts. "I don't believe I ever heard of that outfit. It must be asouthwestern ranch."
Judge Allison had never heard of his sorrel's brand, the Barred TwinDiamond, either. But then the Judge knew Mr. William Archer, orthought he did, and to question the authenticity of the brand had notentered his head.
The two tall, lean riders would have been greatly pleased had theyknown of the ease with which the Judge read the brands on their horses'hips. It was a tribute to their skill in hair-branding. Pocket-knivesin their hands, they had spent hours in a broiling hot draw alteringthe Flying M to the Flying Diamond A.
On paper it is ridiculously simple. Merely prolong upward, till theymeet, the outer arms of the Flying M, and there you have it, aperfectly good Flying Diamond A. But it is quite another story whenone's paper is the hide of a nervous horse which frantically objects tohaving its hair pinched out.
The strangers happened to be sitting on the porch when the Judge rodehomeward on his sore-footed purchase. They noted how tenderly theBarred Twin Diamond sorrel walked, and promptly retired to the bar andmade a fast friend of the bartender.
That afternoon the younger of the two hard-looking characters, thegray-eyed man, became exceedingly intoxicated and quarrelled with hisswarthy friend who remained quite sober. The friend endeavoured to gethim to bed--they had taken a room at the hotel--but the drunken one ranaway. For a gentleman overcome by drink he ran remarkably well.
He was discovered an hour later in Mr. Archer's corral, makinghysterical endeavours to climb the fence, and bawling that he was beingdetained against his will and would presently make a sieve of theindividual who had hidden the gate. To which end he flourished asix-shooter.
Mr. Archer opened the gate and invited the tippler to come out. Butthis he refused to do, and offered to fight Mr. Archer rough-and-tumbleor with knives on a blanket.
Mr. Archer, with an eye to future patronage, did not send for themarshal. He sent for the man's friend. When the swarthy one appeared,the other immediately sheathed his six-shooter, burst into maudlintears, and fell on his neck. Weeping bitterly, he was led away to thehotel and to bed.
"I've seen drunks," observed a plump dance-hall girl, "but I never seenone as full as he is that could walk so good. His licker only seems tohit him from the belt up."
"Oh, there's drunks an' drunks," sagely replied Mr. Archer. "Whenyo're as old as I am, Clarice, yuh won't wonder at nothin' a drunkdoes."
When the two strangers were in their room with the door shut theyounger one lay down on his cot and stuffed the end of a blanket intohis mouth. His whole big frame shook with uproarious mirth. He kickedthe cot with his boot-toes and bounced up and down. His friend laughedsilently.
"Telescope," whispered the man on the bed, when he could open his mouthwithout yelling, "Telescope, I got it all. They's five hosses in thatcorral o' Archer's, all of 'em sore-footed an' all branded Barred TwinDiamond. It's done mighty slick, too. Yuh can't hardly tell it ain'tthe real thing. An' one of 'em, a black with two white stockings, Ican swear to like I can to that sorrel the bartender said the Judgebought. I've rode 'em both."
"Sleeck work," breathed Laguerre. "I kin sw'ar to dat sorrel, too. Iknow heem, me. He ees six year old, un dat red one I see een decorral, I know heem. I bust heem a t'ree-year old. He ees five now.But de odders I not so shore."
"It don't matter. They're all Scotty's horses. That's a cinch."
"I won'er eef de rest back een de heel. W'at you t'ink?"
"No, they ain't. Why, look here, Telescope, them six sorefoots tellthe story. If the rustlers was holdin' the band in the hills they'd'a' kept the six. But they didn't. They turned 'em over to Archer.That shows they was drivin' 'em, an' drivin' 'em some'ers near here.Well, the railroad ain't more'n fifty mile south. Farewell's aboutsixty mile north. If them rustlers got the band this far their bestmove would be to keep right on to the railroad an' ship the hosses eastor west. An' I'll gamble that's what they've done."
Loudon gazed triumphantly at Laguerre. The latter nodded.
"You are right, you bet," he said, his eyes beginning to glitter. "Ihope dem two odder boys geet a move on."
"They ought to pull in to-morrow. To-night, when I'm all sober again,we'll go down to the dance hall an' find out if Archer's made anylittle out-o'-town trips lately. Telescope, I'm shore enjoyin' this.To-morrow I'm goin' to make the acquaintance o' the Judge an' see whathe thinks o' this rustler Loudon who goes spreadin' the CrossedDumbbell brand up an' down the land. Yes, sir, I got to shake handswith Judge Allison."
Again mirth overcame him, and he had recourse to the blanket.
"I wouldn' go see dat Judge," advised Laguerre, with a dubious shake ofthe head. "She may not be de damfool. She might have you' facedescribe', huh. She might see onder de w'iskair. You leave heem'lone, my frien'."
But Loudon remained firm in his resolve.
Mr. Archer was a good business man. His two fiddlers were excellent,and his girls were prettier than the average cow-town dance-hall women.Consequently, Mr. Archer's place was popular. When Loudon and Laguerreentered, four full sets were thumping through a polka on the dancingfloor, and in the back room two gamblers sat behind their boxes,players two deep bordering the tables.
After a drink at the bar the two watched the faro games awhile. ThenLaguerre captured a good-looking brunette and whirled with her into awild waltz. Loudon singled out a plump little blonde in a short redskirt and a shockingly inadequate waist and invited her to drink withhim.
"I seen yuh this mornin'," she confided, planting both elbows on thetable. "Yuh shore was packin' a awful load. I wondered how yuh walkedat all."
"Oh, I can always walk," said Loudon, modestly. "Liquor never doesaffect my legs none--only my head an' my arms."
"Different here, dearie. When I'm full it hits me all over. I just goblah. Yuh got to carry me. I can't walk nohow. But I don't tank upmuch. Bill Archer don't like it. Say, honey, what djuh say to adance? Don't yuh feel like a waltz or somethin'?"
"I'd rather sit here an' talk to yuh. Besides, my ankle's strainedsome. Dancin' won't do it no good."
"That's right. Well, buy me another drink then. I want to get fortychecks to-night if I can."
"Help yoreself. The bridle's off to you, Mary Jane."
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"Call me Clarice. That's my name. Ain't it got a real refined sound?I got it out of a book. The herowine was called that. She drownedherself. Gee, I cried over that book! Read it six times, too. Here'sluck, stranger."
"An' lots of it, Ethel. Have another."
"Just for that yuh don't have to call me Clarice. Yuh can call meanythin' yuh like 'cept Maggie. A floozie named that stole ninety-fivedollars an' four bits an' a gold watch offen me once. I ain't likedthe name since. Well, drown sorrow."
"An' drown her deep. Say, I kind o' like this town. It suits me downto the ground. How's the cattle 'round here?"
"Nothin' to brag of. They's only a few little ranches. They's gold inthe Dry Mountains over east a ways. Placers, the claims are. BillArcher's got a claim some'ers west in the foot-hills o' the Fryin'Pans. He works it quite a lot, but he ain't never had no luck with ityet. Leastwise, he says he ain't."
"Has he been out to it lately?" asked Loudon, carelessly.
The girl did not immediately reply. She stared fixedly into his eyes.
"Stranger," she said, her voice low and hard, "stranger, what do yuhwant to know for?"
"Oh, I was just a-wonderin'. Not that I really want to know. I wasjust talkin'."
"Yuh seem to enjoy talkin' quite a lot."
"I do. Habit I got."
"Well, what do yuh want to know about Bill Archer for?"
"I don't. Say, can't I make a natural remark without yore jumpin'sideways?"
"Remarks is all right. It's yore questions ain't. Stranger, for afeller who's just makin' talk yore eyes are a heap too interested. Ibeen in this business too long a time not to be able to read a gent'seyes. Yo're a-huntin' for somethin', you are."
"I'm a-huntin' a job--that's all. What do yuh take me for, anyway?"
"I dunno how to take yuh. I----"
"Oh, have another drink an' forget it."
"Shore I'll have another drink, but I dunno as I---- Oh, well, yo'reall right, o' course. I'm gettin' foolish, I guess."
Her words did not carry conviction, and certainly she did not cease towatch Loudon with furtive keenness. He strove by means of many drinksand a steady flow of conversation to dispel her suspicions. The girlplayed up to perfection, yet, when he bade her good-night, it was withthe assured belief that she and Archer would have a little talk withinfive minutes.
The bar was nearly empty when Loudon and Laguerre entered the hotel.Two drunken punchers were sleeping on the floor, a mongrel under atable was vigorously hunting for fleas, and the bartender was languidlyarranging bottles on the shelves. Loudon ordered drinks and treatedthe bartender.
"Any chance o' pickin' up a stake in the Dry Mountains?" hazardedLoudon.
"How?" queried the bartender.
"Placer minin'."
"Well, gents, if yuh don't care how hard yuh work for five dollars aday, the Dry Mountains is the place. I never had no use for along-tailed shovel myself."
"I heard how them stream-beds was rich."
"Don't yuh believe it, gents. If they was, there wouldn't be noMarysville 'round here. It'd be all over in the Dry Mountains. No,gents, it's like I says. Yuh can get the colour all right enough, butyuh won't make more'n five a day on an average. Who wants to rock acradle for that?"
"Now ain't that a fright?" complained Loudon. "Chucked up our jobswith the Flyin' Diamond A 'cause we heard how there was gold in the DryMountains, an' come all the way up here for nothin'. It shore doesbeat the devil!"
"It does, stranger, it does. Have one on the house, gents."
"Say," said Loudon, when the liquor was poured, "say, how about east inthe foothills o' the Fryin' Pans? Any gold there?"
"Stranger, them Fryin' Pans has been prospected from hell to breakfastan' they ain't showed the colour yet. Take my word for it, gents, an'leave the Fryin' Pans alone. Bill Archer's got a claim some'ers overthat way an' he goes traipsin' out to it every so often. Stays quite awhile, Bill does, sometimes. Don't know why. He don't never getnothin'."
"How do yuh know?"
"Stranger, I know them hills. I've prospected that country myself.There's no gold in it."
"Maybe Bill Archer don't agree with yuh."
"Likely he don't. He's a hopeful cuss as ever was. Why, gents, onlyabout ten days ago he got back from a two weeks' trip to his claim. Amonth ago he was gone maybe a week. An' it goes on like that. Why,I'll bet Bill Archer spends mighty nigh four months in every year outon his claim. There's perseverance for yuh, if nothin' else."
The two friends agreed that it was indeed perseverance and retired totheir room.
"We've got Archer pretty nigh hog-tied," murmured Loudon as he pulledoff his trousers.
"You bet," whispered Laguerre. "Archer she ees w'at you call de fence,huh? De odder feller dey run off de pony un de cow, un Archer she selldem. Eet ees plain, yes."
"Plain! I guess so. It'll be a cinch."
It might appear cinch-like, but there were more dips and twists in thetrail ahead than Loudon and Laguerre dreamed of.
In the morning Loudon strolled down the street and entered the dancehall. Mr. Archer was behind the bar, and he greeted Loudon with gravepoliteness.
There was nothing in Archer's manner to indicate that Clarice hadtalked. In perfect amity the two men drank together, and Loudon tookhis departure. His visit to the dance hall had one result. The depthof Mr. Archer's character had been indicated, if not revealed. Loudonhad hoped that he was a hasty person, one given to exploding athalf-cock. Such an individual is less difficult to contend with thanone that bides his time.
Loudon, not wholly easy in his mind, went in search of Judge Allison.He found him in the Sweet Dreams Saloon telling a funny story to thebartender. The Judge was an approachable person. Loudon had nodifficulty in scraping an acquaintance with him. Half-an-hour'sconversation disclosed the fact that the Judge's hobby was the horse.Loudon talked horse and its diseases till he felt that his brain was indanger of developing a spavin.
Judge Allison warmed to the young man. Here was a fellow that knewhorses. By Jove, yes! Reluctantly the Judge admitted to himself thatLoudon's knowledge of breeding secrets far exceeded his own. In a landwhere horses are usually bred haphazard such an individual is rare.
The Judge took Loudon home with him in order to pursue his favouritesubject to its lair. Which lair was the Judge's office, where, cheekby jowl with "Coke upon Littleton" and Blackstone's ponderous volumes,were books on the horse--war, work, and race.
"It's astonishing, sir," pronounced the Judge, when his negro hadbrought in a sweating jug of what the Judge called cocktails, "trulyastonishing what vile poison is served across our bars. And I say'vile' with feeling. Why, until I imported my own brands from the Eastmy stomach was perpetually out of order. I very nearly died. Haveanother? No? Later, then. Well, sir, my name is Allison, Henry B.Allison, Judge of this district. What may I call you, sir?"
"Franklin, Judge, Ben Franklin," replied Loudon, giving the name he hadgiven the landlord of the hotel.
"Any relation of Poor Richard?" twinkled the Judge.
"Who was he?" queried Loudon, blankly.
"A great man, a very great man. He's dead at present."
"He would be. Fellah never is appreciated till he shuffles off."
"We live in an unappreciative world, Mr. Franklin. I know. I oughtto. A judge is never appreciated, that is, not pleasantly. Why, lastyear I sentenced Tom Durry for beating his wife, and Mrs. Tomendeavoured to shoot me the day after Tom was sent away. The mentalprocesses of a woman are incomprehensible. Have another cocktail?"
"No more, thanks, Judge. I've had a-plenty. Them cocktail jiggersain't strong or nothin'. Oh, no! Two or three more of 'em an' I'd goright out an' push the house over. I'm feelin' fine now. Don't wantto feel a bit better. Ever go huntin', Judge?"
"No, I don't. I used to. Why?"
"I was just a-wonderin'. Yuh see, me an' my friend are thinkin' o'pro
spectin' the Fryin' Pans, an' we was a-wonderin' how the game was.Don't want to pack much grub if we can help it."
"The Frying Pans! Why, Bill Archer has a claim there. Never getsanything out of it, though. Works it hard enough, too, or he used toat any rate. Odd. About three weeks ago he told me he was riding outto give it another whirl. Last week, Tuesday, to be exact, I wasriding about twenty miles south of here and I met Bill Archer ridingnorth. He seemed quite surprised to meet me. I guess he doesn't workthat claim as much as he says."
"That's the way we come north--through that country east of the Blossomtrail."
"Oh, I was west of the Blossom trail--fully ten miles west. What?Going already? Why, I haven't had time to ask you about thatextraordinary case of ringbone you ran across in Texas. Wait. I'llget a book. I want to show you something."
It was fully an hour before Loudon could tear himself away from JudgeAllison. As he crossed the street, a buckboard drawn by two sweating,dust-caked ponies rattled past him and stopped in front of the Judge'soffice. The driver was a woman swathed in a shapeless duster, her facehidden by a heavy veil, and a wide-brimmed Stetson tiedsunbonnet-fashion over her ears. At first glance she was notattractive, and Loudon, absorbed in his own affairs, did not look twice.
"Find out anythin'?" inquired Laguerre, when Loudon met him at thehotel corral.
"I found out that when Archer came back from that claim in the Fryin'Pans he come from the direction o' the railroad. The Judge met himtwenty mile south an' ten mile west o' the trail to Blossom. Blossomis almost due south o' here. The next station west is Damson. We'llgo to Damson first. C'mon an' eat."
The long table in the dining room was almost deserted. At one end satArcher and a lanky person in chaps. Loudon caught the lanky gentlemancasting sidelong glances in his direction. Archer did not look up fromhis plate. It was the first meal at which they had met either thedance-hall keeper or his tall friend.
"I wonder," mused Loudon. "I wonder."
After dinner Loudon inquired of the bartender whether it was Archer'scustom to eat at the hotel.
"First time he ever ate here to my knowledge," said the bartender."He's got a home an' a Injun woman to cook."
"It's the little tumble-weeds show how the wind blows," thought Loudonto himself, and sat down in a corner of the barroom and pondered deeply.
A few minutes later he removed his cartridge-belt, hung it on the backof his chair, and composed himself ostensibly to doze. Histhree-quarter shut eyes, however, missed nothing that went on in thebarroom.
Archer and his lanky friend entered and draped themselves over the bar.Loudon, after a brief space of time, arose, stretched, and yawninglystumbled upstairs. He lay down on his cot and smoked one cigaretteafter another, his eyes on the ceiling.
Laguerre wandered in, and Loudon uttered cogent sentences in a whisper.Laguerre grinned delightedly. His perverted sense of humour wasaroused. Loudon did not smile. What he believed to be impending gavehim no pleasure.
"Guess I'll go down," announced Loudon, when an hour had elapsed. "Nosense in delayin' too long."
"No," said Laguerre, "no sense een dat."
He followed his friend downstairs.
"Seems to me I took it off in here," Loudon flung back over hisshoulder, as though in response to a question. "Shore, there it is."
He walked across the barroom to where his cartridge-belt andsix-shooter hung on the back of a chair. He buckled on the belt,Archer and his lanky friend watching him the while.
"How about a little game, gents?" suggested Archer.
In a flash Loudon saw again the barroom of the Happy Heart and theSheriff of Sunset County surrounded by Block's friends. The wolf-facedman had employed almost those very words. Loudon smiled cheerfully.
"Why, shore," he said, "I'm with yuh. I left my coin upstairs. I'llbe right down."
He hurried up to his room, closed the door, and set his back againstit. Drawing his six-shooter he flipped out the cylinder. No circle ofbrass heads and copper primers met his eye. His weapon had beenunloaded.
"Fell plumb into it," he muttered without exultation. "The ----murderers!"
He tried the action. Nothing wrong there. Only the cartridges hadbeen juggled. He reloaded hastily from a fresh box of cartridges. Hewould not trust those in his belt. Heaven only knew how far ahead thegentleman who tampered with his gun had looked.
When Loudon returned to the barroom, Laguerre and the other two menwere sitting at a battered little table. The vacant chair was oppositeArcher's lanky friend, and the man sitting in that chair would have hisback to the door.
"I don't like to sit with my back to the door," stated Loudon.
"Some don't," said the lanky man, shuffling the cards.
"Meanin'?" Loudon cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Oh, nothin'."
"Shore?"
"Positive, stranger, positive."
"That's good. Change seats, will yuh?"
The lanky citizen hesitated. Loudon remained standing, his gray eyescold and hard. Then slowly the other man arose, circled the table, andsat down. Loudon slid into the vacated chair.
The lanky man dealt. Loudon watched the deft fingers--fingers too deftfor the excessively crude exhibition of cheating that occurred almostinstantly. To Archer the dealer dealt from the bottom of the pack, anddid it clumsily. Hardly the veriest tyro would have so openly bungledthe performance. For all that, however, it was done so that Loudon,and not Laguerre, saw the action.
"Where I come from," observed Loudon, softly, "we don't deal from thebottom of the pack."
"Do you say I'm a-dealin' from the bottom of the pack?" loudly demandedthe lanky man.
"Just that," replied Loudon, his thumbs hooked in the armholes of hisvest.
"Yo're a liar!" roared the lanky one, and reached for his gun.
Archer fell over backwards. Laguerre thrust his chair to one side andleaped the other way.
No one saw Loudon's arm move. Yet, when the lanky man's fingers closedon the butt of his gun, Loudon's six-shooter was in his hand.
The lanky man's six-shooter was half drawn when Loudon's gun spat flameand smoke. The lanky's one's fingers slipped their grip, and his armjerked backward. Lips writhing with pain, for his right elbow wassmashed to bits, the lanky man thrust his left hand under his vest.
"Don't," cautioned Loudon.
The lanky man's hand came slowly away--empty. White as chalk, his lefthand clenched round the biceps of his wounded arm, the lanky man swayedto his feet and staggered into the street.
Archer arose awkwardly. His expression was so utterly nonplussed thatit would have been laughable had not the situation been so tragic. Athread of gray smoke spiraled upward from the muzzle of Loudon'sslanting six-shooter. Laguerre, balanced on his toes, watched thedoorway.
Loudon stared at Archer. The latter moved from behind the table andhalted. He removed his hat and scratched his head, his eyes on thetrail of red blots leading to the door.
"----!" exclaimed Archer, suddenly, raising his head. "This here kindo' puts a crimp in our game, don't it?"
"That depends on how bad yuh want to play," retorted Loudon. "I'mready--I'm always ready to learn new tricks."
"I don't just feel like poker now," hedged Archer, ignoring the insult."I reckon I'll see yuh later maybe."
"Don't strain yoreself reckonin'," advised Loudon.
"I won't. So long, gents."
With an airy wave of his head Bill Archer left the barroom.
Inch by inch the head of the bartender uprose from behind thebreastwork of the bar. The barrel of a sawed-off shotgun rose with thehead. When Loudon holstered his six-shooter the bartender replaced thesawed-off shotgun on the hooks behind the bar.
"Well, sir, gents," remarked the bartender with an audible sigh ofrelief, "which I'm never so glad in my life when Skinny Maxson don'tpull that derringer. She's a .41 that derringer is, the bar's right inthe line o' fire--it ain't n
one too thick--an' Skinny always shootswide with a derringer. Gents, the drinks are on the house. What'llyuh have?"
"Yo're a Christian," grinned Loudon. "Is Skinny Maxson anythin'special 'round here?"
"He's a friend o' Bill Archer's," replied the bartender, "an' he'sgot--I mean he had a reputation. I knowed he was lightning on the drawtill I seen you--I mean till I didn't see yuh pull yore gun. Mr.Franklin, that was shore the best exhibition o' quick drawin' I everseen, an' I used to work in Dodge City. Good thing yuh was some swift.Skinny don't shoot a six-gun like he does a derringer. No, not for aminute he don't! But look out for Skinny's brother Luke. He's got aworse temper'n Skinny, an' he's a better shot. This nickin' o' Skinnyis a heap likely to make him paint for war. He's out o' town just now."
A clatter of running feet was heard in the street. Through the doorwaybounded a stocky citizen, blood in his eye, and a shotgun in his hand.
"Where's the ---- shot Skinny!" he howled.
"Luke!" cried the bartender, and dived beneath the bar.
"Stranger, I wouldn't do nothin' rash," observed Loudon, squintingalong the barrel of his six-shooter. "Drop that shotgun, an' drop herquick."
Loudon's tone was soft, but its menace was not lost on the wild-eyedman. His shotgun thudded on the floor.
"By Gar!" exclaimed Laguerre. "Eet ees----"
"Shut up!" roared Loudon. "I'm seein' just what yo're seein', butthere's no call to blat it out!"
For the wild-eyed man was the same individual who had brought the taleof the Hatchet Creek Indian uprising to Farewell. But there was norecognition in the man's eyes, which was not remarkable. Loudon andLaguerre, on that occasion, had been but units in a crowd, and evenwhen they exchanged shots with the fellow the range was too long forfeatures to be noted. Besides, the thick growth of stubble on theirfaces effectually concealed their identity from any one who did notknow them well.
"I'd kind o' elevate my hands, Brother Luke," suggested Loudon."That's right. Yuh look more ornamental thataway. An' don't shake somuch. You ain't half as mad as yo're tryin' to make out. If you wasreal hot you'd 'a' took a chance an' unhooked that shotgun when yuhcome in. Brother Luke, yo're a false alarm--like Skinny."
"Lemme pick up my shotgun, an' I'll show yuh!" clamoured Luke Maxson,whom the purring voice was driving to a frenzy.
"Yuh lost yore best chance, an' chances don't travel in pairs--likebrothers."
"Do somethin'! Do somethin'!" chattered Luke.
"No hurry. Don't get het, Brother Luke. If I was to do somethin' yorevaluable an' good-lookin' carcass would be damaged. An' I just ain'tgot the heart to shoot more than one man a day."
Laguerre laughed outright. From behind the bar came the sound of asnicker hastily stifled.
"You let me go," yapped Luke Maxson, "an' I'll down yuh first chance Igit!"
"Good argument against lettin' yuh go."
At the window flanking the door appeared the plump face and shouldersof Judge Allison.
"Why don't yuh do somethin', ---- yuh?" yelled Luke Maxson. "I'mgettin' tired holdin' my arms up!"
"Well," said Loudon, "as I told yuh before, though yuh can't seem toget it through yore thick head, it's a mighty boggy ford. I feel justlike the fellah swingin' on the wildcat's tail. I want to let go, butI can't. If I was shore none o' yore measly friends would shoot me inthe back, I'd let yuh go get yore Winchester an' shoot it out with mein the street at a hundred yards. But the chance o' yore friendsbustin' in shore dazzles me."
"None of 'em won't move a finger!" Luke hastened to assure Loudon.
The latter looked doubtful. The Judge coughed gently and rubbed hisclean-shaven chin.
"Mr. Franklin," said Judge Allison, "should you care to try conclusionswith Mr. Maxson in the street, pray accept my assurances that no onewill interfere. I speak unofficially, of course. Furthermore, in awholly unofficial capacity I shall oversee proceedings from thesidewalk. If any one should be so ill-advised as to---- But no onewill, no one will."
"You hear what the Judge says?" Loudon cocked an eyebrow at Luke Maxson.
"Shore, shore," said that worthy, feverishly. "Lemme pick up myshotgun, an' in five minutes I'll be back in the middle o' Main Streeta-waitin' for yuh."
"Five minutes is too long," observed Loudon. "Make it three. An' yuhneedn't touch that shotgun. Yuh can get it later--if yo're able."
"Yo're shore in a hurry!" sneered Luke.
"I always am with a coward an' a liar an' a low-down, baby-robbin'road-agent."
At these words rage almost overwhelmed Luke Maxson. Only the longbarrel of that steady six-shooter aimed at his abdomen prevented himfrom hurling himself barehanded upon his tormentor.
"One moment, gentlemen!" exclaimed the Judge. "In the interest of fairplay permit me to settle one or two necessary preliminaries. Thestreet runs approximately north and south so the sun will not favoureither of you. Mr. Maxson will take his stand in the middle of thestreet opposite the dance hall. Mr. Franklin will also post himself inthe middle of the street but opposite the hotel. The hotel and dancehall are about a hundred yards apart. I shall be on the sidewalkmidway between the two places. At a shot from my revolver yougentlemen will commence firing. And may God have mercy on your souls.Gentlemen, the three minutes start immediately."
"Git," ordered Loudon.
Luke Maxson fled. The Judge vanished from the window. Loudon hurriedupstairs for his rifle. In the street could be heard the voice ofJudge Allison booming instructions to the passersby to removethemselves and their ponies from the range of fire.
"Geet heem, by Gar!" enjoined Laguerre, clicking a cartridge into thechamber of his own rifle. "Geet heem! You got to geet heem! I'mbehin' you, me! I trus' dat judge feller, but I trus' myself more.Eef anybody jump sideway at you, I geet heem."
"I'll get him," muttered Loudon. "Don't worry none, Telescope. He'llget it like his brother."
"No, no, Tom, no fancy shootin' at de elbow," exclaimed Laguerre inalarm. "Geet hees hair."
"You just wait. C'mon."
Paradise Bend Page 19
