He bustled about, pouring out torrents of abuse indiscriminately directed at his own men and the cattle-thieves, and Green was amazed at the manner in which it was received.
`Ain't he the son of a gun?' privily remarked Zeb Woods, who as acting foreman in Dirk's absence got more than his share. `But durn it, he don't mean anythin'. He'd ride from hell an'-all to give any one of us a helpin' hand, an' we shore knows it. How's Ginger makin' it?'
`Doin' fine, barrin' the swellin',' Green replied.
`Swellin'? Why, where he swole?' asked the puzzled Woods. `In the head,' said Green, smiling. `Yu see, Miss Norry is nursin' him.'
A roar of laughter greeted the explanation and Woods joined in. `I'm it,' he admitted, `and the drinks are shore on me next time I meet yu in town. Say, he'll be havin' a heart attack too, eh?'
`Shucks! He done had that years ago, an' got over it, same as the rest of us,' volunteered Dirty.
A loud inquiry from the boss as to whether he'd got to wait all night for them put a period to the conversation, and no more time was lost in starting. Having a fixed objective, they headed straight across the Y Z range, in a direction which would leave the Parlour well to their left. For a time they were able to travel at a fast lope which ate up the miles, but when they left the range-land and plunged into the wilderness beyond, the pace had to be moderated.
Nevertheless, midnight found them little more than an hour's ride from their destination, and Leeming decided to rest both men and beasts. A fire was lighted, for the night air was very keen, the horses were picketed, and the men rolled up in their blankets and slept the sleep of the healthily-tired. Around them was the black silence, broken only by the sharp crackle of the burning logs, and the occasional cry of some wild denizen of the forest abroad on a predatory quest.
They were astir again at the first pale gleam of light behind the distant mountains. Swiftly this deepened and became a roseate glow from the midst of which the flaming rim of the sun climbed majestically above the peaks, tingeing them with gold. The daily miracle which turned a world of cold and darkness into one of warmth and light had taken place. But in the gulches, canyons, and wooded tracts gloom still resisted the invading daylight.
A gulp of hot coffee, a cigarette, and the party resumed its way, and by the time the conquest of the darkness was completed the blind canyon was reached. This was soon negotiated, and one by one they led their mounts through the tunnel, Green going first, with the boss of the Frying Pan following him.
`Damnation!' said the puncher disgustedly. `They've razzledazzled us.'
The valley was empty. Some hundreds of yards from where they stood were two black mounds, and as the horsemen approached, these disintegrated into winged portions which took flight; the scavengers of the desert had discovered the dead horses. No other living thing was to be seen, and Job Leeming, in his disappointment, rose to heights which astonished even his own men.
`Ain't he a ring-tailed wonder?' whispered one of them to Dirty. `I reckon he oughtta be President o' the U-nited States.' `He shore can express himself awful easy,' admitted the other `I guess I'd sooner shoot than talk a thing out with him.'
`Don't yu go makin' any mistakes about his shootin' either,' said the Frying Pan man. `He's a dead game sport.'
By this time Leeming had let off steam, and with one of his astonishing changes was prepared to accept defeat more or less philosophically.
`Well, boys, we seem to have had our trouble for nothin' they've been too clever for us,' he said. `I reckon they must have had some hosses yu didn't see, Green, or else some more o' the damn thieves happened along to shift the herd.'
The Y Z man nodded agreement, though in reality neither of the solutions satisfied him. Laban's sudden departure recurred to his mind but he could find nothing to connect an apparent stranger with the rustlers. Even if it had been done as a matter of spine against himself, it seemed inconceivable that Laban would know where to send the warning.
`Guess we'd better have a look round, now we're here,' he said. `Sorry we missed the cows, Leeming.'
`Ain't nobody's fault--just bad luck,' returned the Frying Pan boss. `Mebbe we'll pick up the trail.'
Spreading out, they combed the sides of the valley thoroughly, and found one steer only in the thick underbrush, where it had evidently been overlooked by the rustlers when the herd was gathered for a getaway. Job studied the altered brand with interest.
`Never heard of it,' he commented. `They made a good job of in. Wonder where they're sellin"em?'
At the far end there was a break in the saucer-like rim which shut the valley in, and this seemed to promise another outlet, but when nhey reached it they found that it was closed by a perpendicular ledge of rock eight feet above the grass level of the valley. From the ledge a strip of sand led through a narrow opening in the cliff to the country beyond. The stream entered at a deep gully not a yard wide, a passage impracticable even for a horse. There appeared to be no way of reaching the ledge save by climbing and the sand above it showed no tracks.
`Must have took 'em out at the other end again,' said Job. `An' that leaves us just where we was before. No good losin' time here, ooys; we'd better head for home.'
Chapter XIII
ON the following morning the foreman of the Y Z appeared at breakfast with a grin on his face, which broadened considerably when his eyes rested on Green.
`I hear yu didn't catch many rustlers,' he began.
`Yu heard correct,' the puncher said quietly.
`Yu was lookin' for 'em in the wrong place,' went on the foreman. `While you an' Job was pirootin' round that blind canyon, they was busy at the Frying Pan, liftin' another hundred head. S'pose that's news to yu?'
Green looked at the maliciously triumphant speaker in blank amazement; it certainly was news and of the very worst kind. What he liked still less was the meaning sneer conveyed in the question.
`Yu suggestin' it might not be news to me?' he asked.
The foreman hesitated. He had, only a little while before, plainly stated to his employer his belief that this man was working with the rustlers, and than the trip to the blind canyon was merely a ruse to leave the Frying Pan open for another raid. `A damn good exchange too, a hundred cows for a couple o' cayuses,' he had sneered. `If he was playin' straight, why didn't he drop the men 'stead o' the hosses? Accordin' to his story, they was shootin' at him.' Now, he would have given all he possessed to shout `Yes' and go for his gun, but he could not do it; the narrowed, grim eyes of the cowpuncher seemed to hypnotise him. The other men watched in silence.
Then Green spoke: `Take off yore belt, Blaynes,' he said, and at the same moment he unbuckled his own and laid it on the table. The foreman made no move.
`Take it off, yu white-livered skunk,' rasped the other.
The epithet cun like a lash, and with an oath, the foreman's right hand went to his belt, not to take it off, but to snatch the gun from its holster. In an instant Green divined his purpose and covered the space between them in one leap; his hands shot out and gripped the foreman's wrists just as the pistol cleared the scabbard. Madly Blaynes strove to loosen the clutch and aim the weapon, but he was powerless; he felt that he was held by steel vices which were being slowly tightened and were crushing the bones of his wrists. The pain was atrocious and the sweat showed in beads upon his forehead.
`Drop that gun, yu cur!'
The harsh order was hardly necessary, for already the weapon was falling from the numbed, lifeless fingers. As soon as he heard it thud upon the floor, Green released his grip and step
ping back, swung his right first, and sent in a crashing blow which caught Blaynes on the point of the jaw, dashing him, stunned and senseless, into a corner of the room. Then he picked up his belt, buckled it on, and without a word left the bunkhouse.