The stranger had stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind him. The lamplight threw into relief the bold, free lines of his face, the details of his costume powdered thick with alkali, the shiny butts of the two guns in their open holsters tied at the bottom. Equally it defined the resolute countenance of Buck Johnson turned up in inquiry. The two men examined each other - and liked each other at once. "How are you," greeted the cattleman.
"Good-evening," responded the stranger. "Sit down,"invited Buck Johnson. The stranger perched gingerly on the edge of a chair, with an appearance less of embarrassment than of habitual alertness.
"You'll take the job?" inquired the Senor.
"I haven't heard what it is," replied the stranger.
"Parker here - ?"
"Said you'd explain." "Very well," said Buck Johnson. He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. "There's too much cattle-rustling here. I'm going to stop it. I've got good men here ready to take the job, but no one who knows the country south. Three days ago I had a bunch of cattle stolen right here from the home-ranch corrals, and by one man, at that. It wasn't much of a bunch - about twenty head - but I'm going to make a starter right here, and now. I'm going to get that bunch back, and the man who stole them, if I have to go to hell to do it. And I'm going to do the same with every case of rustling that comes up from now on. I don't care if it's only one cow, I'm going to get it back - every trip. Now, I want to know if you'll lead a posse down into the south country and bring out that last bunch, and the man who rustled them?" "I don't know - " hesitated the stranger. "I offer you five thousand dollars in gold if you'll bring back those cows and the man who stole 'em," repeated Buck Johnson.
"And I'll give you all the horses and men you think you need." "I'll do it,"replied the two-gun man promptly. "Good!" cried Buck Johnson, "and you better start to-morrow." "I shall start to-night - right now."
"Better yet. How many men do you want, and grub for how long?" "I'll play her a lone hand." "Alone!" exclaimed Johnson, his confidence visibly cooling.
"Alone! Do you think you can make her?"
"I'll be back with those cattle in not more than ten days." "And the man," supplemented the Senor. "And the man. What's more, I want that money here when I come in. I don't aim to stay in this country over night." A grin overspread Buck Johnson's countenance. He understood. "Climate not healthy for you?" he hazarded. "I guess you'd be safe enough all right with us. But suit yourself. The money will be here." "That's agreed?" insisted the two-gun man. "Sure." "I want a fresh horse - I'll leave mine - he's a good one. I want a little grub."
"All right. Parker'll fit you out." The stranger rose. "I'll see you in about ten days." "Good luck," Senor Buck Johnson wished him.
CHAPTER FOUR - THE ACCOMPLISHMENT
The next morning Buck Johnson took a trip down into the "pasture" of five hundred wire-fenced acres. "He means business," he confided to Jed Parker, on his return. "That cavallo of his is a heap sight better than the Shorty horse we let him take. Jed, you found your man with nerve, all right. How did you do it?" The two settled down to wait, if not with confidence, at least with interest. Sometimes, remembering the desperate character of the outlaws, their fierce distrust of any intruder, the wildness of the country, Buck Johnson and his foreman inclined to the belief that the stranger had undertaken a task beyond the powers of any one man. Again, remembering the stranger's cool grey eye, the poise of his demeanour, the quickness of his movements, and the two guns with tied holsters to permit of easy withdrawal, they were almost persuaded that he might win. "He's one of those long-chance fellows," surmised Jed. "He likes excitement. I see that by the way he takes up with my knife play. He'd rather leave his hide on the fence than stay in the corral." "Well, he's all right," replied Senor Buck Johnson,"and if he ever gets back, which same I'm some doubtful of, his dinero'll be here for him." In pursuance of this he rode in to Willets, where shortly the overland train brought him from Tucson the five thousand dollars in double eagles. In the meantime the regular life of the ranch went on. Each morning Sang, the Chinese cook, rang the great bell, summoning the men. They ate, and then caught up the saddle horses for the day, turning those not wanted from the corral into the pasture. Shortly they jingled away in different directions, two by two, on the slow Spanish trot of the cow-puncher. All day long thus they would ride, without food or water for man or beast, looking the range, identifying the stock, branding the young calves, examining generally into the state of affairs, gazing always with grave eyes on the magnificent, flaming, changing, beautiful, dreadful desert of the Arizona plains. At evening when the coloured atmosphere, catching the last glow, threw across the Chiricahuas its veil of mystery, they jingled in again, two by two, untired, unhasting, the glory of the desert in their deep-set, steady eyes. And all the day long, while they were absent, the cattle, too, made their pilgrimage, straggling in singly, in pairs, in bunches, in long files, leisurely, ruminantly, without haste. There, at the long troughs filled by the windmill of the blindfolded pump mule, they drank, then filed away again into the mists of the desert. And Senor Buck Johnson, or his foreman, Parker, examined them for their condition, noting the increase, remarking the strays from another range. Later, perhaps, they, too, rode abroad. The same thing happened at nine other ranches from five to ten miles apart, where dwelt other fierce, silent men all under the authority of Buck Johnson. And when night fell, and the topaz and violet and saffron and amethyst and mauve and lilac had faded suddenly from the Chiricahuas, like a veil that has been rent, and the ramparts had become slate-grey and then black - the soft-breathed night wandered here and there over the desert, and the land fell under an enchantment even stranger than the day's. So the days went by, wonderful, fashioning the ways and the characters of men. Seven passed. Buck Johnson and his foreman began to look for the stranger. Eight, they began to speculate. Nine, they doubted. On the tenth they gave him up - and he came. They knew him first by the soft lowing of cattle. Jed Parker, dazzled by the lamp, peered out from the door, and made him out dimly turning the animals into the corral. A moment later his pony's hoofs impacted softly on the baked earth, he dropped from the saddle and entered the room. "I'm late," said he briefly, glancing at the clock, which indicated ten; "but I'm here."
His manner was quick and sharp, almost breathless, as though he had been running. "Your cattle are in the corraclass="underline" all of them. Have you the money?" "I have the money here," replied Buck Johnson, laying his hand against a drawer, "and it's ready for you when you've earned it. I don't care so much for the cattle. What I wanted is the man who stole them. Did you bring him?"
"Yes, I brought him," said the stranger. "Let's see that money." Buck Johnson threw open the drawer, and drew from it the heavy canvas sack. "It's here. Now bring in your prisoner." The two-gun man seemed suddenly to loom large in the doorway. The muzzles of his revolvers covered the two before him. His speech came short and sharp. "I told you I'd bring back the cows and the one who rustled them," he snapped. "I've never lied to a man yet. Your stock is in the corral. I'll trouble you for that five thousand. I'm the man who stole your cattle!"
PART III - THE RAWHIDE