Will yu walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly,' hummed another. `An' the fly wasn't fly enough to.'
A shout of laughter greeted this effort, and Durran slapped the singer enthusiastically on the back. `"That's damned good, Bent,' he cried. `The spider--haw, haw! Damned good, that is. An' do yu reckon the parlour mighta bin a sandy one?'
`I guess likely it was,' grinned Bent. `An' the unsuspicious insect musta belonged to the specie the gardener sharps call greenfly.'
This sally produced a positive howl of mirth, and Durran rocked to and fro, slapping the humorist's back, and murmuring, `Yu shore will be the death o' me, Bent.'
The man at whom these gibes were directed looked around with a sardonic smile. He saw Larry and his little following were taking no part in the merriment, and that Snap Lunt was watching him curiously. The little gunman did not appear to be amused, but he was clearly interested. Dropping easily into a seat, Green waited until all the would-be wits had had their say and then fired a return shot.
`This is shore the best-tempered outfit I ever met up with,' and there was an edge on his voice which cut like a razor. `Why, if any gang had run a blazer like this "joke" on the old K T in Texas, the boys would've painted for war immediate. But I reckon yu ain't called "Wise-heads" for nothin', and the Double X has got yu right buffaloed.'
This was another aspect of the affair, and even the loudest laughers looked a bit uncomfortable, while on the younger men the effect was electrical. Ginger sprang to his feet instantly.
`Buffaloed nothin',' he cried. `Why, if anybody's goin' to think that, me an' two-three of us'll go an' corral the Double X gang an' hang 'em over the cliff in their own ropes.'
Green laughed. `Sho, that wouldn't be the act of a "Wise-head," Ginger,' he reproved. `Yu needn't to worry none about them jokers, either--they'll get theirs. I don't need help to curry a little hoss like that. An' yore foreman'll tell yu that yu got a bigger job. Yu gotta find the Injuns who are rustlin' steers an' killin' yore friends.'
`I thought that was yore job,' sneered Blaynes.
`Why, I believe the Old man did say somethin' about it,' replied the puncher evenly. `I'll have to 'tend to it.'
`An' watch out for the spider,' jeered Durran.
`I shore will. I'm obliged to yu for remindin' me, Durran,' smiled Green, not failing to note the scowl which the foreman directed at the speaker.
Chapter VII
ON the following morning a rider spurred his mount down the main and only street of Hatchett's Folly, and found it, as he had expected at that time of the day, deserted, save for a dog or two prowling in search of spots where the blistering sun could not reach them with its full intensity. Without troubling to slow up, he wrenched a bit and brought his horse no a sliding stop in front of the Folly saloon, the dug-in hoofs sending up clouds of dust. He was a short, stoutish man of about thirty, with hair almost bleached by the sun, and a blob of a nose which had heavenly aspirations and had got its owner into more trouble than any respectable nose should.
Dismounting with a whoop, he hitched his pony to the rail, and entered the saloon. He found it almost as deserted as the street outside. Two men were playing cards in a desultory way at one of the tables, and another was leaning carelessly against the bar, talking to Silas. One glance at this third made the newcomer stiffen and hesitate in the doorway; but it was too late for retreat : the barkeeper had seen him.
`Howdy, Snub ! Come right in,' he called. `How long yu bin sufferin' from it?'
`Sufferin' from what?' asked the other, as he complied with the invitation.
`Bashfulness at the sight of a bar,' was the reply.
`Ain't never had it,' retorted the newcomer. `That sun's powerful glary out there, an' for a minit I couldn't see a thing.'
At the mention of the name, Green shot one swift glance at the man, but showed no other sign of interest. Snub exchanged greetings with the other two citizens and poured himself a generous drink from the bottle Silas pushed forward.
`How's tricks at the Double X?' asked that worthy.
`So so. Them damn Injuns lifted another half-dozen head, an' Dex is hoppin' mad about it,' replied the puncher, watching Green warily as he spoke. Did the fellow know him or not? he wondered. The nickname so incautiously divulged in the canyon might have escaped the captive's notice; there was nothing in the lounging figure to lead him to think otherwise, and he began to feel easier. Rolling a cigarette, he put it between his lips and struck a match. He was in the act of lighting up when a shot crashed, and the bullet twitched the burning wood from his fingers. It was immediately followed by a second, which removed half of his cigarette, and a third which tore away the remaining portion, leaving only fragments of paper and tobacco clinging to his lips.
`What the 'ell?' he gasped, gazing pop-eyed at the still-lolling
stranger, whose eyes gleamed with satanic amusement, and around whose hips blue smoke was eddying.
`Just a little joke--little practical joke, friend--habit I got,' explained the marksman in a soft drawling voice. `Seein' that I've just naturally ruined yore smoke, have a cigar with me.'
He motioned to Silas, threw the money on the counter and went out, unconcernedly turning his broad back and offering an easy target. But Snub watched him go in a kind of trance.
`My Gawd!' he said in an awed voice. `Three shots, firin' from the hip. An' I was watchin' him an' never saw a move. Who is he?'
`That's the new "Wise-head" puncher,' said the barkeeper with a sly smile, for he had his own opinion of Snub, and was not greatly grieved to see him set back a little.
`I know that. An' he's shore got the right brand. But who is he?' persisted the victim of the `little joke.' Then, with a shaky laugh, he added, `An' that's the feller Poker is claimin' he'll get. Well, he can have him--entire--hide, horns, hoofs, an' taller. I don't want none m'self.'
`Yu oughtta be thankful yore nose is set the way it is,' grinned Silas. `If yu had bin a Jew, yore smeller woulda bin plumb spoiled by that last shot.'
`An' that's awful true,' chimed in another voice, and Snap Lunt joined them. "Lo, Silas. 'Lo, Snub; yu look like yu been seein' visions.'
`Did yu see it, Snap?' asked the bartender.
`Yeah, I was at the door,' was the reply. `Pretty fair shootin'.' `Pretty fair shootin'?' repeated the indignant victim. `Why, I reckon even yu couldn't equal it, Snap.'
`Mebbe not,' retorted the gunman, with the nearest thing to a smile that ever appeared on his face. `But roll yoreself a pill; I'm willin' to try.'
`Not on me, yu won't,' Snub said instantly. `I take it back. Yu could do it--an' more. I don't want no proof. Here, Silas, give this bloody-minded sharp-shooter somethin' else to think of. An' he called it a joke, Snap. What yu think o' that?'
`Well, if that's his idea of a joke, I should walk round him, a long way round him--mile or so--when he's feelin' humorous,' Lunt replied. Meanwhile the subject of this conversation, on leaving the saloon, had gone to the main emporium of the place, a sort of general store which stood next to the hotel. He had not noticed Snap, for the gunman, seeing that he was about to come out, had slipped round the corner of the Folly. He found the proprietor, a grizzled old pioneer of sixty, ready to talk.
Was that shootin' I heard over to the s'loon?' he asked.
`Only a puncher a-showin' off. No harm done,' Green toldhim. 'Gimmee two boxes o' forty-fives an' a coupla sacks o' smokin'. Don't sell no cigarette-making machines, I s'pose?' `Never heard tell of 'em,' said the merchant. `Fellers 'bout here all got fingers.'
`Yu been here a long whiles?' the puncher queried, while the ordered goods were being produced.
`I helped to start the blasted place--come in with old Hatchett hisself. Yessir, an' we all reckoned we was goin' to strike it rich, but it was a false alarm. My, but she was a lively town while the gold-boom lasted ! An' there was more money in undertakin' than minim'. I expect I'm about the on'y one o' that crowd left.'