Tuttle

“ You’ll be safe,” and the note of warning filled his voice again, “as long as you don’t make any breaks.”
“I’m not a fool,” responded Tuttle, stretching out on the ground and resting his head against the saddle. Whenever he awoke during the night he saw his guard keeping alert watch, gun in hand and revolver by his side. Just before daybreak the other man returned and held guard while the first watered and saddled Tuttle’s horse and prepared breakfast. ”

“ At last the first man got up leisurely, took a flask from his pocket and handed it to Tuttle with the request, “Drink hearty, pard.” With a little flourish and a kindly “Here’s luck,” he took a long pull himself, then, telling Tuttle he could use his saddle for a pillow and lie down near the fire, he picked up his shot-gun and sat down on the wagon seat and the man who had stood beside the mesquite walked away into the bushes.
“Now,” said the man with the shot-gun, “you can sleep just as sound as a baby in its cradle, for I’m going to watch here and see that the coyotes don’t bite you. ”

“ From the street came the sound of voices, as though the crowd had separated and was searching; scattered voices yelling instructions, with one group closer than the rest. Duke reloaded his pistol and shook the Saint’s shoulder.
“Get up, Saint! There’s men comin’, and we don’t know whether they’re friends or not.”
But the Saint mumbled thickly and shook his head. Came a scraping noise at the doorway, and Duke lifted his head to see Luck leaning inside. ”

“ Sleepy went galloping around the corral, while Hashknife and Honey swung wide of the stable. But the willows and other brush grew down within fifty feet of that side, affording plenty of cover for any one to make a getaway.
After a fifteen-minute search they gave up. It was so dark that a man could merely lie down on the ground and be invisible. They met at the front of the stable, and there they almost stumbled over Slim Coleman, who was sitting up. ”

“ His own position he took midway between the two, facing the door and two small windows that blinked beneath the narrow portal.
Mead saw that he was the only one for whom protection was possible, and exclaimed, "Say, Tom, this ain't fair!"
But Tuttle paid no attention to his protest, and began to call loudly:
"Dysert! Faustin Dysert! We know you 're in there, you and your men, and if you 'll give yourselves up you won't get hurt. But we 're goin' to take you, dead or alive! If there 's anybody in there that don't belong in your gang, send 'em out, and we 'll let 'em go away peaceable!" ”

“ French came closer to her, but he still respected the unwavering revolver muzzle.
"Killing a man to protect your honor," said Luck slowly, "a man with a wife and a kid."
"Oh, hell!" French shrugged his shoulders impatiently, "Do you want it said that a crooked deal is pulled off in the Silver Bar?"
"No, nor a killing."
French smiled sarcastically. "Silver Sleed wasn't so particular. You hired me to run that place, and I'm going to run it, Luck—run it like Silver Sleed did." French glanced around the room and shook his head. "It ain't right for you to live alone like this. ”

“ But none of them questioned King.
“This is one of the cattlemen,” he said to them. “He is going back now, and I’d like to have one of you go with him until he passes our lines.”
“Not with me,” declared Jack. “I’ll circle wide and come out away beyond the sheep. Much obliged, just the same.”
“And tell all yuh know to the cattlemen, eh?” growled one of the men, and then to King:
“If one of ’em can ride into our camp, what’s to stop a dozen of ’em from comin’.”
“That’s my lookout, Steen,” replied King coldly. “All he knows won’t hurt us any.” ”

“ After a time he espied a black dot in a halo of dust coming down the mountain side. He considered it a moment and then decided, “It’s a man on horseback.” He took out his revolver and, holding it in his hand, made another scrutiny of the approaching figure.
“Je-e-mima! If he don’t ride like Nick Ellhorn! I shouldn’t wonder if it’s Nick!”
Presently the figure flourished a black sombrero and down the dusty road came a yell which began full-lunged and ended in a screeching “whee-ee-e.” Tuttle answered with a loud “hello,” and both men put spurs to their horses and were soon shaking hands. ”

“ THEY rode out into the night. It was light enough for them to follow the dusty road, but not light enough for them to distinguish the kind of country they were traveling through.
“I hope they've got that danged car on the track, and are headin' East right now,” said Sleepy, peering into the night. “I like this country, Hashknife.”
“After seein' as much of it as you have, I don't wonder.”
“Not that,” said Sleepy seriously. “There's punchers packin' Winchesters, and nobody tellin' yuh what a —— of a good country this is. I tell yuh, there's trouble brewin'. I can smell it, Hashknife.” ”

“ Duke nodded shortly. “I reckon that’s right, Saint. Looks to me like Sleed has this place under his thumb. I suppose he’s got every gunman working for him, which makes it a poor place for us.”
The Saint placed the two shells in his pocket and came to the doorway. The setting sun slanted against the expanse of Ruby Hill, bringing out a myriad of colors, until the whole land seemed to be a vast drop-curtain of fantastic shades. The voices of men drifted down to them as clear cut as the tinkling of bells. ”

“ Big Medicine looked narrowly at Hashknife from under his bushy eyebrows for several moments. He seemed undecided. Then:
“I’m not in the habit of allowing strangers to use my spring, sir; but I should be a hell of a citizen if I refused to let a suffering man share what Nature provided. You are welcome to use it as long as you find the need.” He pointed to the rear of the ranch-house. “You will find the bathhouse back there, sir. I think your nose will guide you.” ”

“ You at one end of the place and Honey at the other. While Mister Stevens sets on the bunk-house steps all alone. And he’s the best-lookin’ man on the ranch, too.”
“Who is—Honey?”
“Na-a-aw—Stevens! Honey’s second.”
“And I’m third,” grinned Hashknife.”
“Sure,” said Sleepy. “Wong Lee don’t count, because he’s a Chinaman.”
“I’m glad one entry is scratched. There goes the sheriff and his hired hand.”
Len Kelsey and Jack Ralston rode past, heading for the old bridge.
“Reckon they didn’t have very good luck,” observed Sleepy. “That must ’a’ been Joe Rich we almost ran into in the rain. ”

“ Big Medicine has been there twenty-five year, and he shore hooked on to most of the place.”
“Does he run any cattle?” asked Sleepy.
“Yeah. He has the Tumblin’ H iron. The Hole is a dandy place for to run cows, except that she’s almost too close to the border.”
“We might get a job,” smiled Sleepy. “I’d punch cows while you boil out, Hashknife.”
“Yeah, yuh might,” agreed the proprietor. “But I’m bettin’ yuh won’t. Big Medicine will prob’ly tell yuh that yuh can’t take a soak in his hot springs, and tell yuh to get to hell off his place. He’s a old squaw-man—meaner than hell. ”

“ He shook his white beard slowly when Duke finished.
“I reckon,” said Duke slowly, “I reckon you’ve just about got to start in where Preacher Bill left off.”
“Tomorrow,” mused the Saint. “Tonight I would refuse to consider it; tomorrow is another day. A man is a fool to declare his intentions more than one minute into the future. Let us procure food, Duke Steele, after that we will sleep. It has been a long day.”
From within the saloon came the squeak of a fiddle, the tinpanny rattle of a piano, the scrape of boots. The dance had begun. ”

“ All these questions raced through her mind now. And if the posse caught Blaze now⸺
She turned back to her room, where she quickly donned a pair of overalls, boots, flannel shirt and a wide hat. There was no one to question her coming or going. Her father was on the upper verandah, watching the road to Medicine Tree.
She ran out to the stable, saddled Glory, the little brown mare, and headed due north. At a short distance she looked like a slim young cowboy riding a very swift little horse and going somewhere in a great hurry.
But Cultus didn’t hurry. ”

“ Down at the corral, Hashknife, Sleepy, and Musical were saddle-breaking a colt, and having a big time out of it. The pseudo Jack Hill scowled at them as he rolled a cigarette.
Wanna came back to the corner, carrying the empty basket. Jack smiled up at her and indicated for her to sit down on the steps. But Wanna shook her head with a smile.
“Work to be done,” she said.
“I don’t know how you stand it to live here all the time,” he said. “My God, I’d get the willies sure. And you say you’ve never been out of here, out of Hawk Hole?” ”

“ Grandon looked curiously at Bud. “Are tie-ropes unbreakable?” he asked, a trifle vexed.
“No,” Bud shook his head slowly, “but it ain’t noways reasonable t’ suppose that both of them horses would break loose in such a way as t’ leave their ropes; and a tie-rope don’t usually break in the neck-loop. Ain’t neither horse got a rope nor a rope-burn. Nawsir, them two broncs were untied.”
“What do you think, Henderson?” asked Grandon.
“I think that Conley is right, sir.”
“Possibly. You will go at once to Kingsburg and try to get in communication with McKay, Henderson.” ”

“ Pitts and Clayton ran to the doorway of the saloon, where they met Regan and Moran, who were coming out.
“Gone!” exclaimed Pitts. “Took a thirty-thirty along. He’s gone out to the Hot Creek ranch.”
“Yeah, and we’re goin’ along,” said Regan. “Get the boys.”
Hashknife and Sleepy came out and Regan saw them.
“Want to ride out and see the fun, Hartley?” he asked.
“What fun?” asked Hashknife.
“Out at the Conley place. Old man’s crazy. When we finish up tonight he’ll be in jail and we’ll strip every strand of wire off his fence. This half-witted sheriff has beat us to it, he thinks. ”

“ She remembered that old Rance had whipped a cowboy who had slapped Angel. It was nearly a gun-fight. Angel had cut the strings all off the cowboy’s saddle and was using them to braid into a quirt for himself. Old Rance whipped the cowboy, and then paid a saddle-maker to put the strings back on the saddle again.
He had always protected Angel. She had heard Angel talking back to him one day, and old Rance had said:
“All right, son. Some day you’ll be twenty-one. Until that time, you’re a kid. When you’re twenty-one, you’ll be a man—and I’d shoot a man for sayin’ what you’ve just said to me. ”

“ Hashknife’s feet were too sore for a pleasure trip.
‘We’re with yuh, cowboy,’ declared Sleepy. ‘My God, yore feet must be tender.’
‘Not a bit; can’t feel anythin’.’
He turned to Nan. ‘Better go to bed pretty quick, and don’t worry any more. Fix up the kid’s feet the best yuh can, and they’ll be all right. C’mon, boys.’
He limped from the house to his horse, with the two men close behind him. Ghost nickered softly and rubbed his muzzle against Hashknife’s vest.
‘Can’t travel very fast,’ said Hashknife. ‘That cañon is shore hell on a horse. ”

“ Angel bet two hundred dollars—twenty yellow chips.
Rance laughed softly, eying Angel’s three tens and the queen.
“Up three hundred,” he said softly, as he deliberately peeled off more bills.
It was Angel’s turn to be thoughtful. He had a ten-full on queens. Those three aces worried him, but he was too deep in the pot to stop now. Slowly he counted off fifty of the yellow chips, fingering them softly. Then he shoved them into the center of the table.
“Up two hundred,” he said coldly.
Old Rance eyed Angel coldly, as he peeled off the amount of the raise and tossed it to the center. ”

“ Just like I know what’s in the hole of a doughnut. Don’t argue with me about anythin’, Sunshine. Lemme think. By grab, this is serious, don’tcha know it? Whole bunch of rustlers, eh? In that old shack down there—hm-m-m! Well,” bravely, “there’s just one thing to do, and that’s to go and heave some lead at ’em.”
“Don’t do it,” advised Marsh quickly. “That would chase ’em away, don’tcha see, Sudden? We’ve got to nail that whole gang at once; put enough men down there to stop every one of ’em, sabe?”
“And let Eph King send his sheep across, eh?” ”

“ A hunch to do it! That’s the second time they tried and failed. Now it’s my turn. C’mon, tall feller; and a lot of thanks to the mare that foaled a runnin’ fool like you.”
The tall sorrel swung into a mile-eating gallop, and Cultus laughed at the moon. Death had struck at him again and missed.
“Some day I’ll take up book-keepin’, and drown in the ink,” he told himself whimsically. “Fate is fate, and yuh can’t dodge it.”
“You’ve got a reg’lar bronc, ain’t yuh?” grinned the stable-keeper, as Cultus dismounted. “Can he run?” ”

“ And yuh might give a little thanks to the feller we called Jack Hill.”
“Yes,” Big Medicine spoke softly. “He deserves our thanks.”
“I’d vote that we go home,” said Musical. “There’s nothin’ we can do here. Faro and Torres cashed in their last white chip.”
“Yes, we’ll go home,” said Big Medicine wearily. “Home will seem good after all this. Come, Lucy, Wanna. We’re going home again, but we are not going to stay home all the time. We are going to travel more. Wanna, you’ll see the cities, wear pretty clothes. I’ll have the old ranch-house torn down and a new one built. We’ll begin to live now! ”

“ The cowboys were rolling their after-breakfast cigarette when Breen called them outside.
"You fellers saddle up and go to the old Suicide mine," he ordered. "Lane just brought word that somebody has been doing a job of butcherin' down there in the old shaft-house, and we've got a hunch that Shif'less Hill is the one who has been doing it. If yuh find Hill around there, yuh better watch him."
"All right," said Pie Ide shortly. "Supposin' we go and get him, Idaho?"
"Yo're runnin' that end of it, Pie," said Idaho grimly. "Better be sure—first. Shif'less will fight. ”