So when they had got clear of the desert and over the Border, the marshal and Black Feather struck out for the Box B ranch, and the deputy took the trail for Lawless. The evening found him in the bar of the Red Ace. He had already decided on his plan of action. Remembering his friend's dictum that a man in liquor may learn more than a sober one, he had resolved to try it out. Draping himself against the bar, he swallowed several drinks in rapid succession and then turned a scowling face on the company.
"'Lo, Pete, how they treatin' yu?" asked the store-keeper jovially.
"Mighty seldom--yu'll never have a better chanct," the deputy told him.
Loder laughed and ordered liquor. "What's come o' the marshal--ain't seen him all day?" he went on.
In a voice that could be heard all over the room Barsay related his own version of the mysterious missive, adding that, becoming uneasy, he had followed the marshal to the appointed spot only to discover the ample evidence of an ambush. The story gained him the attention of most present. Suddenly he darted a finger at Leeson.
"Ask that fella," he said. "Mebbe he can tell yu somethin'."
He watched the man closely as he spoke and noted the look of blank amazement. "What yu gittin' at?" Leeson protested. "How should I know anythin' of it?"
Pete, in fact, saw that he did not, but he had to justify his charge. "Huh! Yu tried to bump him off two-three days ago," he growled.
"I told yu it was a mistake," the 88 man explained quickly, for the statement produced a murmur from several.
"Shore was, an' one more o' the same'll be yore last," Pete threatened.
He poured himself another drink, took a mouthful, spat it out and turned wrathfully on the bartender: "Ain't yu never goin' to get some decent liquor?" he asked belligerently. "That stuff would poison a hawg."
"What's the trouble, Jude?" The saloon-keeper's spare, stooping figure injected itself into the group.
"Barsay's on the prod 'bout the nose-dye," the bartender explained.
Raven's sneering gaze swept the deputy. "Too strong for him, seemin'ly," he said.
The deputy cackled. "That's an insult to me an' a compliment to the dope yu call whisky," he said, with a slight stagger. "What I wanna know is what yu done with the marshal?"
The saloon-keeper's face was wooden. "Yo're either drunk or loco," he replied, and appealed to one of the bystanders: "What: the hell's he mean?" He heard the story with apparent indifference, but Pete, lolling against the bar, saw an expression in the narrowed eyes which might have been satisfaction.
"Looks like he's met up with Moraga," he commented. "I warned him the Mexican was bad medicine, but yu can't tell the marshal anythin'. I guess we won't see him no more."
Bar say nodded his head stupidly and fumbled with his glass.
"How'd yu know it was the Mexican?" he queried.
"I don't--I'm guessin'," Raven replied. "Green has twisted his tail two-three times, an' Greasers ain't a forgivin' sort." His' lips suddenly split in a feline grin: "Anyways, what yu belly-achin' about? Don't yu want his job?"
Pete blinked at him owlishly. "Hell's bells! I hadn't thought o' that."
So ludicrous was his expression that the onlookers laughed aloud, and Raven was quick to seize the opportunity. "Set 'em up, Jude," he cried. "We'll drink to the marshal."
"The new one?" someone questioned.
"There ain't a new one--yet," Raven told him, and lifting his glass added, "The marshal."
Pete grinned foolishly as he raised his glass with the rest, and said thickly, "Here's hopin'"--he paused a second and a man guffawed--"he comes back."
"O' course, we're all wishin' that," the saloon-keeper agreed, and smiled understandingly at the deputy.
The smile confirmed the little man's suspicions, and sent him back to his quarters in an unusually thoughtful frame of mind.
* * *
The marshal received an enthusiastic welcome at the Box B; in the eyes of its owner nothing was too good for the man who had rescued Tonia and punished her assailant. He had heard the details from the girl's own lips, and only her urgent entreaties had kept him from rounding up his outfit and going in search of the offender. He listened with amazement and growing anger to the marshal's account of Moraga's attempted vengeance.
"That Greaser's gettin' too brash whatever," he said. " 'Bout time he was abolished. Yu got that paper with yu? Mebbe I know the writin'."
When the marshal produced it the young man stared in puzzled bewilderment.
"If it didn't seem ridic'lous I'd have said Potter wrote that," he pronounced. "But he wouldn't be agin yu or for the Greaser."
"It ain't Raven's fist, I s'pose, or Leeson's?"
"Dunno 'bout Leeson--shouldn't think he could write so good, but it certainly ain't Raven. What's put them in yore mind?"
The marshal told of the 88 rider's attempt to bushwhack him, and the rancher's eyes widened.
"Yu think Seth put him up to it?"
"I dunno, Andy, an' that's a fact. I'm gropin' in the dark. Leeson is one o' Raven's men, an' unless he's been told different, he'd figure me the same, seein' that Raven made me marshal."
Both were silent for a few moments, and then Green said, "Don't think I'm hornin' in, Andy, but did yore dad owe Raven money?"
"Fifteen thousand, though I didn't know of it till I saw the note," Bordene replied. "I paid it off. Why?"
"When he drew out that five thousand the mornin' he was--got, he told Potter it was to square a debt, an' he went to the Red Ace," the marshal said quietly. "Raven was out--at the 88. Yu have the note?"
He studied the cancelled document carefully. "That figure one could 'a' been put in after it was wrote," he pointed out.
"Shore could," Andy agreed. "I reckon the Old Man was some careless, but yu got Seth sized up wrong, marshal; he wouldn't play it that low on me."
Green laughed. "Well, seein' as yu've paid, I s'pose it don't do no good to worry about it," he said. "Aimin' to try another drive?"
"Yeah, an' it's goin' through this time, yu bet vu," Bordene said.
"Don't camp too near Shiverin' Sand," Green warned.
"Seth was tellin' me the same thing yestiddy," Andy smiled. "I said I hadn't made no plans."
"Let it be known yu expect to bed down in The Pocket again, an' then change yore mind," the marshal advised.
"Yo're a suspicious jigger, but it ain't a bad notion," the other agreed.
* * *
When his guests had departed on the following morning, Andy set out for the Double S to take Tonia riding. He soon noticed that Reuben Sarel was not his jovial self, and that there was a tiny crease between the girl's level eyebrows.
"What's troublin' Uncle this bright mornin'?" he asked as they trotted away. "Not losin' weight, is he?"
"Losing cows, Andy," she told him, "and we don't know how. I think, too, he's worrying about that Mexican."
The young man snorted. "That fella's becomin' a menace to the country," he said, and told of the guerrilla's latest exploit.
The girl shivered; she knew what the victim of it must have endured. "Are the men around here going to stand for that?" she asked indignantly.
"They ain't," Andy assured her. "When I get my drive through something goin' to be done; but, for now, the marshal wants it kept quiet."
"I shall be glad when you are back, Andy," the girl said. "I'm a bit scared, I think."
"Of that dirty Greaser?" he asked.
"No--not altogether," she said slowly. "I can't explain it, but I've had a 'breakers ahead' sort of feeling, and that man Raven has begun visiting the Double S."
Bordene laughed. "Nothin' to that, Tonia," he replied. "I s'pose he had business with Reuben."
"That's the excuse, of course, but if it weren't so absurd I'd say he came to see me," Tonia told him. "Yesterday he brought me a box of candy, and--he pays me compliments."