The boy squirmed uneasily. `Ain't worth mentionin',' he said. `If I'd knowed who he was ...'
`Shore, I understand,' the nester smiled. `Jim, there's somethin' I wanna ask you.'
When they were outside the bunkhouse, Drait told of the offer he had received. `O' course, he'll put the dollars in his own pocket--after squarin' his men,' he concluded. `I don't care none about that; what I'm wonderin', is he diggin' a hole for me?'
`If the critters ain't marked, I don't see how he could do anythin',' Sudden said. `There's one precaution yu might take; where does he bank?'
`With the Western Union; it's the on'y one in Midway; we all use it.'
`Good. Draw the money out in big bills, have the manager make a note o' the date an' numbers, an' tell him you might need to know who pays 'em in again. If Gilman tries any tricks, he may get tangled in his own rope.'
`I want those beasts, an' I figure he'll play straight, anyway till he's got some more o' my dollars. But I'll do as you say--fix it in town tomorrow. Oh, there won't be no trouble, but come if you like an' fench Yorky along; I owe him a break.'
So the morning found the three of them outside the bank premises in Midway. The nester went in to transact his business, and his companions waited, looking at an all too familiar scene. Heavy freight wagons, drawn by plodding mules, churned up the dust, distributing it impartially on passing pedestrians. In front of the saloons stood lines of patient ponies, their flicking tails waging the unending war against the flies. The passers-by afforded a wide choice in race and colour; roughly-dressed, craggy-faced whites, yellow-skinned Mexicans,slit-eyed, smiling Chinamen, and Negroes. Sudden, sitting carelessly in his saddle, appeared indifferent, but his keen eyes missed nothing, and he at once noticed that the nester's arrival had aroused interest.
`Somethin' in the wind,' he said to Yorky. `Where's that lousy sheriff off to, an' what's he so pleased about?'
Camort had passed on the other side of the street, his arm still in a sling, and his face alive with malignant satisfaction. Yorky studied the stumpy figure.
`If he smells as bad as he looks they've christened him correct,' he decided. `How do things like that git their jobs?'
`Just because they are things like that,' Sudden said caustically. 'Comin' from where yu do, yu oughta know. The big men have the whip-hand. The election is a farce; the outfits have to vote as they're told, an' the tradesmen daren't offend large customers. The ballot ain't secret, an' Heaven help the fella who supports the wrong side.'
Drait rejoined them. `All fixed,' he said. `Williams, the manager, is a good chap; he don't admire the way the town is run, but like plenty others, he has no play his cards close. I hear the sheriff is on the warpath again; seen anythin' of him?'
`He watched yu go inno the bank, an' it shore looked like the answer to a prayer. Then he seemed to remember somethin' important.'
`You don't say,' Nick grinned. `What we goin' to do?'
A man slouching slowly by answered the question: `Scatter dust if yo're wise. Camort reckons he's got you cinched.' `Thanks, friend, but he's a pore reckoner--lack of schoolin' I expect. We'll go find him.'
The unknown shrugged. `It's yore funeral,' he said.
`Oh, I guess not,' Nick replied. 'On'y the good die young an' I'm bad--terrible bad.'
They proceeded to Merker's, the owner of which greeted them with, `Nick, you can crowd yore luck too close.' The warning of a well-wisher, an explanation was due. `I came into town on my own affairs,' the nester replied quietly. `Then I hear a man is anxious to see me. I don't like disappointin' folks.'
`He thinks he has you,' Merker said.
`He's thought that before,' Nick smiled, and glanced about him. `Midway 'pears to be thirsty.'
`No--curious,' was the meaning answer.
So that was it; those present knew what was afoot, and had gathered to see the fun--if any. A stirring apprised him that something was happening. He turned his head. The sheriff marched in, followed by a lanky, hawk-faced fellow carrying a sawed-off shot-gun, which, spraying its load of buckshot, made missing, at short range, well-nigh impossible. This individual, whose eyes seemed to have a permanent difference of opinion, and in consequence, was generally known as Wall-eye,' was the newly-appointed deputy to the peace-officer. The pair halted in front of the nester and his companions.
Drait broke the silence: `Hired yoreself a bodyguard, Stinker?'
The sheriff's reply was addressed to his assistant. `If any o' them guys makes a move, let fly.'
`If he does, you'll wake in the next world, Camort.' This from the saloon-keeper, who leaning forward on the bar, had a forty-five in his fist, trained directly on the man he warned. `An' I don't mean--mebbe,' he added.
The sheriff glared. Merker was a quiet man who minded his business, but was known to be impatient of interference, as more than one obstreperous customer had discovered; he did not waste breath on empty threats.
'Yo're obstructin' me in the execution o' my dooty,' Camort blustered. `I represent the Law.'
`Mebbe--it's usually described as an ass,' Merker replied coolly. `Anyway, you don't turn a riot-gun loose on my premises. I'm rememberin' that time when you blinded a man, an' then tried to down him.'
The other's face was venomous. `I ain't forgettin' this, Merker.'
`Which you'd better not. Now, spit yore poison, an' fade.' `Suits me. I got a warrant, signed by the Judge, for the arrest o' this jasper, Drait.'
The jasper in question received the news with a sober nod. `On what charge?' he asked.
Waylayin' an' murderin' Bull Bardoe,' Camort exulted. `Is that all?'
`You'll find it a-plenty.' He addressed the audience. `Bull was found over a week back by some of his own men up on the Table Mesa trail, shot through the head.'
`Very sad,' Nick murmured. `Did he say I killed him?' `How?' the sheriff began, and then saw the twinkle in the nester's eyes. `Funny man, huh? Well, have yore laugh while you can. The Judge will hold the trial this afternoon, an' by sunset you'll be swingin' high an' dry.'
`Fast work, Stinker,' the accused retorted. `What are you afraid of?' Getting no answer, he went on, `You gotna give me time to prepare my defence an' call a witness.'
`On'y one?' Camort sneered. `Twenty won't help you.'
`Got it all planned out, huh?' Drait smiled. `Yeah, just one--Bull Bardoe hisself.'
He saw the flicker of fear in the man's eyes, and then came a guffaw, too forced to be natural. `I doubt if you'll have time to dig him up.'
Someone thrust aside the door of the saloon, and stood there. `Hi, Stinker, look what's blown into town,' he cried.
Every eye was turned to door or window, to see the familiar figure of Bull Bardoe pace slowly along the street, quite unconscious of the sensation he was causing. The occupants of the saloon gazed in bewilderment, the sheriff's expression was one of rage, and his utterance anything but pious, and Nick Drait grinned. Merker spoke:
`Bull certainly is the most active corpse I ever saw; it don't seem proper for a murdered man to go cavortin' about like that.'
The laughter which followed the irony had little of amusement in it, and Camort realised that he was the recipient of sinister looks; he must do something.
`I've bin misinformed--made a fool of,' he said indignantly.
`Then somebody's wastin' time,' Drait said caustically. `It's a plain enough frame-up, an' that's why you were rushin' things. Bull was to keep under cover until you'd jerked me into the next world. One o' you seems to have slipped up.' He turned to the spectators. `I hope yo're proud o' this dawg you made a sheriff.'
`We ain't, not none,' Pilch growled. `We'd like to hang him a whole lot.'
`It's all a lie,' Camort asserted. `I was told he was dead, an' that the hoss he allus rode was in Drait's corral.'