`I take the pot, my friend,' he jeered. `Thought yu could play a hand against me, did yu? As for the girl...'
`Keep yore foul tongue off her,' blazed the bound man. `If yu had the courage of a coyote, yu'd turn me loose an' fight it out, but yu haven't; swindlin' old men an' bullyin' unprotected girls is yore limit.'
The big man's face grew purple with rage and he ground his teeth. `For a busted nickel I'd ante up ten thousand no the boys for the pleasure o' blowin' yu apart,' he snarled.
`If I had a busted nickel I'd shore give it yu,' Green retorned, adding contempnuously, 'Yu'd only rob me of it if I didn't.'
But Tarman had got himself in hand again. `Yu don't get off that easy,' he said. `Live, damn yu, with a rope in sight, an' to comfort yu, the knowledge that the girl is in my power an' I don't intend to marry her, savvy?'
The prisoner remained unmoved. `Tarman or Webb or whatever yore name may be, I figure yo're the poorest pretence of a man I ever struck--an' I struck yu once good an' plenty, didn't I?' he jeered.
Tarman's face went livid and his fists clenched. `Here, West, yu an' Durran lock this feller up an' keep an eye on him,' he gritted, `or I'll be savin' the hangman a job yet.'
Assisted by West and followed by Durran, the outlaw shuffled up the stairs. On the way, West managed to whisper: `It was a close call, partner; I couldn't think o' no other way. I ain't forgettin' that rattler.' Then he thrust him violently through a door, slammed and locked it upon him.
Chapter XXII
EARLY the following morning, Stiffy, returning from Hatchett's, heard a drumming of hoofs behind him and being of a suspicious nature, forced his mount into the brush at the side of the trail and waited. The drumming grew louder and then a band of riders galloped past. In the half-light he recognised several of them. He saw too that the horses had been hard-ridden, and that the faces of the riders were set and determined.
`Looks like the Frying Pan outfit, fifteen of 'em, an' they ain't on no joy-ride neither,' he muttered. `Headed for the Crossed Dumb-bell shore enough. I gotta take the short trail an' warn Jeffs.'
Mounting again he rode for about half a mile and then turned off to the left at a point where there was a faint, narrow trail, little more than a run-way for wild creatures. A glance showed him that the horsemen ahead had kept straight on, and with a sigh of relief he plunged into the narrow pathway, stooping to avoid the branches which threatened to sweep him from the saddle.
The next half hour proved cruel work, and but for the fad that both knew their business, either man or beast must have come to grief. Through thickets and gullies, over rock-rimmed ridges, along a trail which wound like a ribbon amidst seemingly impassable undergrowth, slipping, staggering, the nimble little pony keeping its feet by a miracle of agility, they pressed on until at length they emerged on an open stretch and with a last burst of speed, reached their objective. All was quiet, but the man knew he could not be far ahead of the visitors and wasted no time. Limping, for the wild ride had tried his wounded leg severely, he ran to the door and hammered on it with his quirt. It was Jeffs who opened it.
"Lo, Stiffy, what's eatin' yu?' he asked. `Thirsty?'
`The Frying Pan outfit's on its way here an' liable to arrive any minit,' panted the other. `I come the short trail but--well, yu know what that is. There's fifteen of 'em, an' I reckon they're painted for war.'
`Hell,' cried the foreman, the grin fading from his face instantly. `Come an' tell the Spider.'
They went into the big room where Tarman, Pete, and most of the others were getting breakfast. The leader took the news calmly, and was clever enough to let it appear that he welcomed the change in his plans.
`Fine,' he said. `We clean up now instead o' later on, an' if they come askin' for it, we can't be blamed. Fifteen of 'em, eh? Well, there's twenty of us an' we're under cover. Rustle in plenty grub, water, an' cartridges--we'll hold this place. The Frying Pan outfit, boys, is the last ditch we gotta straddle; after that, it's easy goin' for all of us.'
Laughing and joking, the men set about the task of putting the ranch-house in a state of defence. Built of stout logs which would resist any bullet, it was admirable for the purpose. The vulnerable spots were the doors and windows, the latter, however, being protected by heavy shutters loop-holed to enable the attacked to retaliate. On all sides the ground had been cleared so as to render the storming of the building a perilous undertaking. So the garrison might well await the issue with confidence. But Tarman, though he showed a bold front to his men, was perplexed. That the ranch he was purposing to raid should suddenly turn the tables was something he could not understand. Poker Pete too was ill at ease.
`Beats me how Leeming got wise to this place,' he said.
`I figure Green warn't alone last night,' Tarman replied. `He musta left the other feller waitin' in the brush with orders to ride for help if he didn't come back with the girl in a certain time. We oughtta thought o' that. We gotna wipe 'em out, Pete, every damn one of 'em.'
The gambler nodded gloomily, not that the prospect of slaying a dozen or so of his fellow-creatures disturbed him, but because he realised that the task was not going to be an easy one. A hail from outside interrupted the conversation, and peering through the loop-hole, they saw a solitary horseman sitting easily in the open, his rifle across his knees. It was the Frying Pan owner himself. At a word from Tarman, the foreman flung open the front door and leaning carelessly against the jamb, asked: `An' what might yu be wantin'?'
`First off, none o' yore damn lip,' retorted the irascible rancher. `I'm tellin' yu we got the place surrounded, an' I'm givin' yu one chance; hand over the girl an' Green unharmed an' we'll go away--this time.'
`Yu can go plumb to hell, an' if yo're in sight in five seconds yu'll git a free pass there,' snapped Jeffs jerking up his rifle as he spoke.
The envoy whirled his mount and disappeared in the chaparral, while the foreman slammed and bolted the door; negotiations were at an end.
The attacking party, having placed their mounts in safety, had split up into couples and selected points which commanded every side of the building. The four Y Z boys had worked round to the back, from whence they could keep an eye on the corral. As Larry put it, `Some o' these birds may be wantin' no fly the coop, an' it's shore up to us to provide the wings.'
Ginger, with whom he had paired, grunted as he settled himself at full length in a slight hollow, well screened by the intervening foliage.
`Don't yu gamble too high on this brush bein' bullet-proof,' he warned. `Cuss it, they got all the best of it. Don't see how we're goin' to get 'em 'less we starve 'em out, an' they're better fixed for grub than we are, I betcha.'
`We'll get 'em all right,' responded Larry cheerfully. `Old Impatience'll find a way--can't see him a-settin' down to wait. Bet that's him, opening the ball.'
A shot rang out and they heard the thud of the striking bullet. Three of the defenders promptly replied, one of them firing from a loop-hole in the back door which immediately became a target for four of the attackers.
`Reckon we've sorter discouraged that jasper some,' remarked Ginger, the hail of bullets having evoked no response. `Wonder if he's cashed or shifted?'
He raised himself slightly to get a better view and instantly his hat was snatched from his head, and a second bullet screamed through the twigs past his cheek, both coming from the loop-hole of a window near the door. Larry sent two rapid shots at the unseen marksman and promptly rolled sideways to a position several yards away.