"Don't--shoot," he gasped weakly, and held up his trembling hands.
The puncher hesitated for a few seconds, and then thrust the weapon behind his waist-band. "Get," he said tersely. "Outa the country, or I'll send yu out--in a box."
With an effort the beaten man stood up, collected his belongings, and staggered out, the onlookers parting to let him pass. He dared not raise his eyes, for he knew that there would not be a friendly face. Rough, unscrupulous, hard-shelled as these men were, they had a code of their own, and he had outraged it. To have lost meant little had he fought fairly, but ... His reeling brain was conscious of only one thing--he must get away, and far, since wherever the story followed he would be a figure for scorn. Moreover, that damned puncher was not bluffing. He must see King, though the prospect of the elder brother's anger and contempt was hard to face. Wearily he dragged himself into the saddle and headed into the darkness.
Back in the saloon the victor was receiving the congratulations of most of those present. He had put up a straight and clean fight, and moreover, had dealt a crushing blow to the supremacy of the Burdettes, a fact certain citizens appreciated. These well-wishers, however, did not include the marshal, who had slipped away immediately after Mart's discomfiture.
"Sorry Slype's gone, I wanted him to hear the truth about my visit to Cal's shack," Sudden said. "S'pose yu tell the boys, Bill, while I clean up some."
So Yago told the story of that day's events, and the eyes of his hearers bulged, profane exclamations of amazement punctuating the narrative; all these men knew the Sluice.
"So, yu see, Green couldn't 'a' chucked Cal in, 'cause I saw him potterin' round his place later," Bill concluded, having said nothing of the old man's reputed discovery.
"Who the hell tumbled Green in?" asked Weldon.
"Mister Riley oughta he able to tell us," Bill replied.
But the Circle B man, like the marshal, was, as one of the company phrased it, "plenty absent". He too had got away unobserved in the excitement of Mart's downfall. When Sudden returned, having removed such marks of the conflict as could immediately be dealt with, he was not surprised to learn of Riley's retreat.
"Did yu expect he'd wait?" he asked sardonically, and then, "I'm feelin' some used up--like I'd had a busy day. What 'bout headin' for home?"
Yago surveyed the cut and bruised features critically. "Yu look better'n yu did a piece back, but I wouldn't say it was the time to have yore picture took," he replied. "Yu trail along an' I'll foller--got a li'l matter to see to."
The foreman achieved a painful grin. "Yu idjut," he said. "I wouldn't leave yu, but I know yu won't find him."
Outside the saloon he made a discovery--his horse was missing. Had Mart turned it loose from spite, or had he himself tied it insecurely? In either case he did not think Nigger would stray far, and set out on the search. It proved a longer job than he expected, for it was nearly an hour before he located the truant. The reins were twisted round the saddle-horn. This was clear proof that the animal had been set free, for had the reins been trailing, Nigger, a well-trained cow-horse, would not have drifted. Attributing it to petty malice on the part of his fate antagonist, the foreman mounted and rode slowly back to the ranch.
Chapter XVII
HE was awakened on the following morning by Moody, who brought a message that the Old Man wanted him. There was undisguised admiration in the cowboy's expression as he noted the decorations the foreman's face had acquired over-night.
"Gosh! He ain't marked yu so awful much," he commented. "It musta bin a dandy scrap though; I'd 'a' give a month's pay to seen it."
"I'd 'a' paid twice that to 'a' been in the audience my own self," Sudden grinned. "Fightin' is one o' the games where the looker-on gets most o' the fun."
He made a hasty toilet and went to the ranch-house. On the verandah was Chris Purdie, and facing him--still in their saddles--were Slype and Riley. At the sight of the latter the foreman's eyes narrowed. The Circle B man evidently observed the look, for he unobtrusively contrived to move his unbuttoned vest, thereby bringing into view the badge of a deputy.
"Yu wantin' me?" Sudden asked his boss.
"I'm wantin' yu, Green," the marshal cut in harshly.
"Perseverin' fella, ain't yu, Slype?" the foreman gibed. "Yu was wanting' me last night an' ran away. Changed yore mind again, or have yu fished Cal's body out'n the river?"
"I ain't," replied the officer shortly. "What time yu git back to the C P las' night?"
"Well, I dunno as it's any concern o' yores, but I should say it was around twelve."
"An' yu left `The Lucky Chance' soon after nine; it don't take all that time to ride up here."
"I had to find my hoss--someone had unhitched him; took me near an hour."
Slype smiled evilly. "Tell me yu broke a leg," he suggested sarcastically. "Mebbe I'll believe yu." At which Riley emitted a derisive cackle. "Someone saw yu climb yore bronc outside the saloon an' ride hell-bent on the Circle B trail."
The foreman looked at Riley and laughed. "Yo're good at seem' things, ain't yu?"
The marshal chanced a lie. "It warn't him--I saw yu myself," he said.
Sudden regarded the pair grimly. "I'm tellin' yu just what happened," he replied quietly. "An' here's somethin' yu wanta remember, them tin stars yo're wearin' won't begin to stop a bullet. Now, come clean, marshal; what's worryin' the thing yu call yore mind?"
"I ain't worryin' none whatever--that's yore part," Slype retorted. "Mebbe yu'll say it's news to yu that Mart Burdette was shot from behind--bushwhacked--'bout a coupla miles outa Windy las' night?"
Like those of a rat, his beady little eyes watched the cow-puncher to note the effect of this announcement, but Sudden's surprise semed genuine enough.
"Mart Burdette--shot?" he cried, and in a flash realized why his horse had been missing. "Yu accusin' me?"
The marshal nodded to his deputy. "I told yu this fella had brains," he said.
"Pity yo're shy of 'em," the foreman said. "If I wanted to put Mart outa business why didn't I do it in the saloon, where I had every right to?"
"Grand-standin'?" Slype sneered. "Lenin' him go that-away shore made a hit with the boys."
"Which is the way yu'd have played it yoreself, I s'pose," Sudden said scornfully. "Well, what yu aim to do about it?"
"I'm takin' yu in," the marshal answered, with an evident effort to speak confidently.
"Is--that--so?" the foreman said, and laughed unpleasantly. "Any idea 'bout how yo're goin' to do it?"
The marshal had not, and his attitude betrayed the fact. He realized now that to come to the C P on such an errand with one man only, expecting that the puncher would tamely surrender, had been a futile proceeding. But he doubted if he could have raised a posse--most of the citizens would take Green's view of the matter. His visit was largely a bluff, but he made another attempt to carry it off.
"Resistance to the law on'y proves guilt," he remarked sententiously.
"My gracious! Have I resisted yu?" the foreman queried. "Why, yu ain't done nothin'? Don't happen to be tied to that saddle, do yu?"
Apparently the marshal was, for he made no attempt to get down. A glance at his newly-made assistant was met by an emphatic shake of the head; Mister Riley was willing enough to use the law as a shield, but his enthusiasm went no further. The cold-eyed, confident young man leaning carelessly against one of the supports of the verandah, thumbs hooked in his belt, did not strike him as even a reasonable risk. In desperation Slype appealed to the rancher:
"Purdie, as a law-abidin' citizen, I call on yu"
"I've noticed it, an' I'm telling yu plain that if yu do it again I'll have yu rid off the ranch on a rail," the cattleman interrupted harshly. "Roll yore tail, yu runt, an' take that shifty-eyed son of awith yu."