It was outside one of these that Scar and his two companions halted their tired mounts at the end of the ignominious retreat from the scene of the rustling. All wore a look of unease.
"Gotta report, I s'pose," the leader said.
"You bet," one of them retorted. "He'll find out, mebbe knows a'ready, like' he did that Dugout doin'."
"Who's to tell him?" Scar argued. "The blasted cowboys won't, the Greasers is cashed, an' Squint must be, or he'd 'a' showed up."
"He'll git wise, I tell you," the other persisted, "an' thenwhat? We've lost out an' there's no sense in makin' it wuss."
"Daggs is right," the third man put in. "We gotta take our medicine."
"You said it, Coger," Scar replied. "Git ready for a stiff dose."
They followed along a short tunnel in the rock and reached a door on which the leader rapped. It was thrown back by a creature who, in the half-light, appeared to be a mixture of man and beast. Not more than five feet in height, it possessed a barrel of a body set on stunted, inadequate legs, enormous shoulders, and abnormally long arms. The animal resemblance was increased by a face almost covered with shaggy hair from which a large nose protruded.
"Hello, Silver," Scar greeted. "We wanta see the Chief."
The freak's mouth opened in a malicious grin, showing teeth like yellow fangs. "He's wantin' to see you," he said.
Apprehension was on their faces as they filed in. It was a spacious room, and despite the bare walls only partly concealed by gaudy Navajo blankets, and the two unglazed holes which served as windows, to them it represented luxury. Rich rugs in which the feet sank dotted the rock floor, costly articles of furniture were spread about, and on a chair covered with a great bearskin sat the owner of all this magnificence.
That he was young--well under thirty--was evident, notwithstanding the slitted, crimson velvet mask which veiled his face down to the supercilious, almost bloodless lips. Though wearing cowboy attire, his silken shirt, goatskin chaps, and high-heeled boots were of the finest quality. A pair of ivory-handled, silver-mounted Colts hung in a cartridge-studded belt round his middle. The men had entered with hats on, but one glance from the cold, washed-out blue eyes led to their furtive removal.
"So you failed again?" The voice was low, devoid of passion, yet menacing. Scar began a mumbling explanation but was not allowed to finish. "Don't trouble to lie--I know the details. The first time there were four of you; on this occasion, six. How strong do you have to be to beat one man?"
The gibe made them squirm. "There were two of 'em," Daggs corrected.
The Chief shrugged disdainfully. "You were three to one," he said. "Where's Squint?"
"Thought you knowed," Scar said hardily, and got a look which made him regret he had spoken.
"I do know, but I wanted to see what lying excuse you could find for scuttling away like scared cottontails," was the scathing retort. "Now listen: this fellow Green is not to be touched till I give permission--I have plans regarding him. You have blundered twice; a third time will be--the last. Silver, the door."
Like whipped curs they slunk out and repaired to the hovel they shared in common. Here, sitting on his pallet-bed, they found Squint, who cursed them heartily for a set of cowards.
"What th' hell could we do?" Scar excused. "We was aimin' to swing round an' git behind 'em, but a chipmunk couldn't climb out'n that gully. Why didn't you keep under cover?"
"I did, you fool, but they started bouncin' bullets off'n a rock an' one got me in the thigh," Squint retorted irritably. "How d'you git here?" Coger asked.
"Ran into Silver--he toted me on his back. Gawd, he's strong that fella, an' can run an' climb like the bear-cat he is."
"So that's how the Chief knew," Scar remarked.
Squint bristled.
"If yo're meanin' I told him--"
"I ain't--you wouldn't be so dumb. Satan don't trust nobody, damn him, an' Silver was watchin'."
"Good for him--I'd never 'a' made it," Squint said. "All I want now is a peek at that Green hombre over the hind-sight of a gun."
"An' all you'll want arter that will be a wooden box to rot in," Scar told him. "The Chief has put the bars up on the gent."
"Sufferin' serpents ! why?"
"He didn't say--must 'a' forgot to, mebbe," was the ironical reply.
"Bars or no bars, I'm gettin' even for this," the wounded man growled, tapping his bandaged thigh.
Scar laughed harshly. "We shall shorely miss you, Squint."
* When the two punchers returned to the Double K they found its owner in conversation with his foreman. Sudden fancied that the latter's brow darkened a little when they rode up, but he could not be sure. Frosty told the tale of the day's doings, merely giving the facts.
"They were putting Merry's brand on my cows?" Keith asked, when the cowboy concluded. "Why should they do that?"
"Jim figured it was to get yu in bad with the Twin Diamond."
"Pretty far-fetched reason, that," the foreman commented.
"Can you think of a better one?" his employer snapped. "What was Merry's view?"
"He agreed it was like enough, an' said for me to tell yu he's buyin' the cows," Frosty replied. "The brandin' was mighty careless."
"Did you know the men?"
"The two at the fire was Greasers, three more was in the ruckus at Sam's, Jim sez; we didn't see the other."
The rancher pondered for a moment. "If it didn't seem impossible, one might think they were waiting for you."
"Shore looked thataway," Frosty said bluntly. "The fire was bound to be seen if anybody rode within miles."
Lagley's laugh was scornful. "They claim Satan is a wizard, but I reckon he can't guess as good as that," he said. "Ain't but once in a while we ride that line."
He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Keith whirled on him. "Is--that--so?" he said slowly. "No wonder I'm losing stock when you leave the door wide open for rustlers. Why don't you put up a board with `Welcome' on it?"
The foreman's hard face flushed beneath the tan at this savage sarcasm. "We ain't strong enough to fight Hell City," he said sullenly. "Though I'm bettin' we'll have to now." This with a baleful glare at the two punchers.
"If you are blaming these two men for to-day's work you can forget it," the Colonel said brusquely. "I am only sorry they couldn't exterminate them all. Green, I've something to say to you." He waited until the others had gone, and then, "What's your opinion of Lagley?"
"Ain't got one--yet," was the non-committal reply. "Some of the men don't like him."
"A popular foreman is either mighty good or mighty poor," Sudden stated, and changed the subject. "How many men does this Hell City jasper have?"
"Rumour says anything from thirty to fifty."
"Split the difference an' call it two score. Ain't it odd that out of all them, three at least should be the ones I tangled with?"
"True," Keith agreed. "I think you were expected. Well, probably Lagley is right, it means war." His face became set with a swift resolve. "Have you been told that this masked miscreant is my--son?"
"Yeah, by folk who don't believe it."
"The evidence leaves little doubt," the rancher replied, with icy calmness. "Even if it be so, the welfare of the community demands that he be brought to justice." The stern voice did not falter, but the gaunt, white face told what an effort the word had cost. It was some moments before he spoke again. "What do you propose to do?"
"It's his turn to move," the puncher pointed out. "Me an' Frosty will scout around like we did to-day; I want to get wise to the country."
When he returned to the bunkhouse, he found it in a state of excitement over the defeat of the rustlers.