A BUNCH OF PRISONERS.
Pete Curry and his two deputies set off the next morning with their
prisoners--thirteen in all. They were taking the ruffians direct to the
nearest point where they could be confined and afterward delivered for
trial into the hands of certain officers, who would take several of them
to different parts of Arizona where they had committed crimes. At noon
the second day they reached a point in a barren valley where the sun
beat fiercely. Scorched mountains rose to the east and west. They came
to a halt.
In the party of sixteen there were only three horses, ridden by the
officers. The prisoners had been compelled to tramp over the desert, the
mountains, and valleys. The wrists of each captive were bound behind his
back.
A tough-looking, desperate lot they were, taken all together. There were
Mexicans and men with Indian blood in their veins among them. They had
weather-beaten, leathery, bearded faces. Many of them had a hangdog
expression. Their eyes were shiftless and full of treachery.
It was a most important capture for Curry, as there were among those men
desperate characters for whose apprehension rewards had been offered. In
short, it was a round-up of criminals that would make Curry's name known
as that of a wonderfully successful officer of the law. He was proud of
his accomplishment, although he regretfully admitted to himself that he
deserved very little credit for it. He and his two companions had
already been well paid by Frank Merriwell.
Now, with his weapons ready, Curry was watching the prisoners, while his
two companions sought for water in the bed of the creek.
"How are you hitting her, Bill?" he called.
"She's moist, Pete," answered one of the diggers. "There's water here."
"It takes a right good while for her to gather in the hole," said the
other digger. "If we makes a hole big enough, we will have some in an
hour or so."
Curry took a look at the sky, the mountains, and the westering sun.
"Well, I opines we stops here a while," he said. "We may as well."
A big, burly fellow among the captives carelessly stalked toward Curry,
who watched him with a keen eye.
"I say, Pete," said the prisoner familiarly, "mebbe you tells me just
how this yere thing happens. I am a whole lot bothered over it."
"Why, Bland, I has you--I has you foul," retorted Curry, with a grim
smile.
"That I certain admits," nodded the other; "but how it was did is what
puzzles me a-plenty."
"You has some bad habits, Bland," returned the captor. "You monkeys with
firewater, and, for a man like you, with a price on him, it's a keerless
thing to do."
"No firewater ever lays me out," proudly retorted he of the drooping
black mustache. "I knows my capacity when it come to the real stuff. But
what I gits against this yere time is different a whole lot."
The deputy sheriff smiled again.
"Mebbe you're right, Bland," he admitted. "You thinks yourself a heap
clever, but this time you is fooled right slick."
Texas Bland frowned.
"I confess, Pete, that it cuts me deep to realize it, but it certain is
a fact that I gits tripped up. However, how it happened is what I wants
ter know. There sure was dope in that booze."
"Likely you're correct," nodded Curry.
"How does it git there?"
"Have you noticed a certain old Injun in this bunch sence we started
out?" asked the officer.
"No," said Bland, shaking his head. "I looks fer him some, but he is not
yere. Does yer mean to insinuate that the old varmint loaded this bunch
with dope?"
"Well, how does it look to you?"
"Why, ding his old pelt!" exclaimed the captive indignantly. "Some of
the boys knowed him. Some o' them had seen him afore. One or two had
seen him to their sorrer. They say to me that he plays poker somewhat
slick. When he comes ambling into our camp, seeming a whole lot jagged
hisself, I was a bit suspicious; but the boys what knowed him says he is
all right, and so I takes a drink with him. Arter that I gits a heap
sleepy and snoozes. Next I knows you is there, Pete, and you has us
nailed solid."
"That's about the way of it," nodded Curry.
"And the old whelp dopes us, does he!" growled Texas Bland. "Whatever
does he do that fer?"
"Why, Bland, that yere old redskin is a friend of Mr. Merriwell. He
gives you the dope to help Merriwell. When we comes down into the valley
there and finds you all sleeping sweetly, the old Injun proposes to
scalp you up some. To be course, we objects, and then he seems mighty
disappointed-like. He seems to think he is cheated. He seems to reckon
that, having done the job so slick, your scalps belong to him."
Bland listened with a strange look on his face and a vengeful glare in
his deepset eyes.
"So that's however it is!" he growled. "Well, I am some glad I finds it
out."
"Mebbe it relieves your mind some of worry," returned the captor; "but
it does you little good."
"Don't you think it!" returned Bland harshly. "I settles with that old
Injun, you bet your boots!"
"First you settles with the law, Bland. You roams free a long time with
a good price on your head. I am sorry fer you, but I reckons you are due
to stretch hemp."
Texas Bland actually laughed.
"Pete," he said, "the rope ain't made yet what hangs me."
"Your nerve is good, but I opine you're wrong this yere time. I has you,
Bland, and I keeps you. I deliver you to them what wants you bad."
"That's all right, Pete," was the cool retort. "No hard feelings on my
account, you understand. I takes my medicine when I has to, and so I
swallows this all pleasant and smiling. Just the same, you mark what I
tells you, the rope ain't made what hangs Texas Bland. I goes back
a-looking for that red skunk later, and I pots him. When I gits a
chance, I starts a lead mine in his carcass. The idea of being fooled by
a redskin galls me up a heap. But you don't tell me any how it happens
you drops down thar and gathers us in just then."
"I am some acquainted with Frank Merriwell. I has done business for him
before. When he comes sailing into Cottonwood and locates me, he says:
'Curry, I am up against it some, and I needs assistance.' 'I am yours to
order,' says I. 'Whatever is a-doing?'
"Then he up and tells me that a gent with a whole lot of coin, what
calls himself a money king, is trying to get possession of some new
mines he has located. This gent, he says, has faked up a false charge
against him and gives him a heap o' trouble. This gent's partner once
tried mighty hard to get his paws on another mine belonging to
Merriwell, and in the end he runs up against a bullet and lays down
peaceful and calm. This gent's name were Sukes. The one what is
a-bothering Merriwell now is Macklyn Morgan."
"You interest me a-plenty," nodded Bland. "Now, there were some gent
behind this yere deal what says it pays us well if we seizes those
mines. Just who it were that puts up the coin fer the job I didn't know
for sure. All I knows is that it comes straight through a gent what I
depends on, and the coin is in sight the minute we delivers the mines
over. I reckons, Pete, the gent you speak of is the one what lays the
job out fer us."
Curry nodded.
"Likely that's all correct, Bland. But he makes a big mistake if he
thinks this yere Merriwell is easy. Merriwell is a fighter from 'Way
Back."
"He is a whole lot young."
"In experience he is a whole lot old. Mebbe he don't grow whiskers much,
but he gets there just the same. Whiskers don't always make the man,
Bland. With all his money, this yere Sukes don't get ahead of Merriwell
any. When Morgan he tackles the job he finds it just as hard or harder.
It does him no good to fake a charge that Merriwell shoots up Sukes."
"Where did this yere shooting happen, Pete?"
"Over yon in Snowflake."
Bland shook his head.
"Then it's ten to one he gits disturbed none fer it. If he proves
conclusive this yere Sukes bothers him, why, supposing he did do the
shooting, it convicts him of nothing but self-defense down in this yere
country!"
"Sukes was a whole lot wealthy, you understand."
"All the same, I reckons it is pretty hard to put murder on a gent
yereabouts in case he is defending his rights."
"That's so," nodded Curry, at the same time lifting his eyes and
watching with interest several horsemen who now appeared far up the
valley, riding toward them through the heat haze.
Bland noticed Curry's look and turned in the same direction.
"Who does you allow is coming?" he questioned, with repressed eagerness.
Instead of answering, Curry called to the men who were laboring in the
bed of the creek.
"Oh, Bill! Oh, Abe! Come up yere right away."
The inflection of his voice indicated that something was wrong, and the
two men hastened to join him.
Curry motioned toward the approaching horsemen.
"Mebbe we is troubled some," he observed. "We needs to be ready."
The horsemen came on rapidly. There were seven of them in all. Like
Curry and his two companions, the captives watched the approaching men
with no small amount of anxiety. As the horsemen drew near, having told
Bill and Abe to watch the prisoners closely, Curry rode forward.
"Howdy, gents!" he called.
"Howdy!" returned one of the men. "Is that you, Curry?"
"Surest thing you know," said the deputy sheriff. "Somehow I don't seem
to recall you any."
"That's none strange," said the spokesman of the party. "I am Gad
Hackett. No particular reason why you should know me."
"Whatever are you doing yere?" inquired the officer suspiciously.
"Just making a short cut, leaving all trails, from Fulton to Oxboro."
"Say you so? Seems ter me you're hitting in the wrong direction."
"I reckon I know my course," returned Hackett. "I have traveled this
section a-plenty. There seems to be a good bunch of you gents. Whatever
are you a-doing?"
"We're holding up for water now," answered Curry evasively. "Mebbe you
hurries right along? Mebbe you has no great time to waste?"
"We look some for water ourselves," returned the other man.
"Well, you has to look mighty sharp yereabouts. We digs our own water
hole, and unfortunately we can't share it any. If you goes down the
valley a mile or two, mebbe you finds a locality where water is easier
to reach."
"Seems ter me you're some anxious to hurry us on," laughed Hackett.
"We're slightly tired, and I reckons we holds up for rest, water or no
water."
"That being the case," said Curry, "let me give you some advice. Yander
I has a few gents what are wanted for various little doings in different
parts, and I am takin' pains careful-like to deliver them over. They're
lawbreakers to the last galoot of the bunch. Mebbe you bothers them
none. I does my duty."
"Oh--ho!" retorted Hackett, "so that's how the wind blows! Why, certain,
Curry, we interferes none whatever with your business. Instead o' that,
we helps you any we can in running in your bunch of bad men."
"Thanks," returned the deputy sheriff coolly. "So long as I am not
bothered with, I needs no help."
Hackett laughed again.
"I see, pard," he said, "you counts on gathering in the reward money
yourself, and proposes to divide it none. All right; you're welcome."
Then, with his companions, he again rode forward. Curry looked them over
critically. In his eyes, with one or two exceptions, they appeared
little different from the collection of ruffians who were his prisoners.
With them he recognized one man, at least, who had an unenviable
reputation--a tall, pockmarked individual--no less a person than Spotted
Dan.
There was in the party a man who seemed strangely out of place there.
His every appearance was that of a tenderfoot, while his face, with his
shaven lips and iron-gray beard, looked like that of a stern old church
deacon. Somehow this person interested Curry more than all the others.
He wondered not a little at the appearance of such a man in such a
party.
"Who is the parsonish gentleman?" asked the deputy sheriff, as Hackett
came up with him. He spoke in a low tone and jerked his hand slightly
toward the tenderfoot.
"That?" said Hackett loudly. "Why, that is Mr. Felton Cleveland, a
gentleman what is looking around some for mining property, and it is him
we escorts to Oxboro. He engages us to see that he gets there all
safe-like, and he is in a hurry."
The man indicated did not betray that these words had reached his ears,
although he had not missed the statement.
"He looks more like a missionary than a mining man," declared Curry.
As the new arrivals reached the captives and their guards, Felton
Cleveland was soon looking the captives over with an expression of
interest, not to say of sympathy. He turned to the deputy sheriff and
observed:
"It seems hardly possible, sir, that so many men could be lawbreakers;
still, their faces indicate that they are desperate characters."
"I reckon you're some unfamiliar with this part of the country,"
returned the officer. "We tries to keep our towns clean, but down along
the Mexican border there are a few bad men. Sometimes they go in
bunches."
"But it is remarkable that you should capture so many of them at one
time. Do you mind telling how it happened?"
"I am not feeling a whole lot like talking just now," returned the
deputy sheriff. "I opines you takes my word for it that they are just
what I says."
"Oh, certainly, sir--certainly," nodded Cleveland. "I don't dispute you
in the least. I assure you it is not mere idle curiosity on my part, for
I have interests in this part of the country, and I wish to be well
informed about it and its inhabitants. However, if you don't care to
tell me what these men have been doing, we will let it drop."
"Well, I don't mind saying that they was caught redhanded trying to jump
a claim. Mebbe that is the charge made agin' a few o' them, but I
reckons the most of the bunch is to face things a heap more serious."
"Trying to jump a claim?" said Cleveland. "Where was this, if you don't
mind giving that much information?"
"Over yon," answered Pete indefinitely, with a wave of his hand.
"Well, it's truly remarkable that you should be able to capture so many
of them. They outnumber you, it appears. If they are such desperate men,
it surely is a strange thing that you could take them all."
"We has a way of doing things sometimes, mister. Let me advise you to
keep your own eyes open. Mebbe some o' that bunch you has is not to be
trusted too far."
"There is no reason why they should betray me," was the assertion. "I
have nothing on my person that could tempt them. They will be paid well
when we reach our destination. That should be enough to guarantee their
faithfulness to me."
"You're some wise in leaving your valuables behind," nodded Curry.
Some of the captives attempted to converse with the newcomers, but
Curry's companions promptly put a stop to that. Between Spotted Dan and
one or two of them passed significant looks. The horsemen dismounted, as
if to take a brief rest and give their animals a breathing spell.
Gad Hackett lighted his pipe and engaged one of Curry's comrades in
conversation. Seeing this, Curry approached them and quietly said:
"You talks a little, Bill--a very little."
Bill nodded.
"I knows my business, Pete," he assured.
Hackett laughed.
"Why does he seem so mighty suspicious?" he asked. "We don't bother him
none."
After talking with Bill a few moments, however, he turned to Abe and
engaged him in conversation. He seemed careless and indifferent in his
manner, and occasionally a few low words passed between them. After a
time, Abe examined the water hole and announced that water was rising in
it. Bill joined him, and they were on their knees beside the hole when a
startling thing happened. Curry suddenly felt something thrust against
the back of his head and heard a harsh voice commanding him to stand
still or be shot in his tracks.
The voice was that of Spotted Dan, who held the muzzle of a revolver
touching the deputy sheriff's head. Curry knew on the instant that he
was in for it. He knew better than to attempt the drawing of a weapon,
although one hung ready in the holster at his side. Hackett, a pistol in
his hand, appeared before the officer.
"We don't care to shoot you up, Curry," he said; "but we has to do it if
you gits foolish. Put up your hands."
"Whatever is this game?" exclaimed the startled man. "You arrays
yourself agin' the law. You gits yourself into a heap o' trouble."
"Put up your hands," repeated Hackett sharply. "If you delays any, the
gent behind you blows off the top of your head."
Knowing the folly of refusing to obey, Curry lifted his empty hands.
Hackett then removed the revolver from the officer's holster.
Instinctively Curry turned his eyes toward the water hole to see what
was happening to his assistants there. He found them on their feet, but
covered by drawn weapons of several men. He saw them also disarmed. Then
one of the newcomers went among the captives and rapidly cut their bonds
and set them free.
Texas Bland turned to Curry and laughed in his face.
"Pete," he said, "I tells you a while ago that the rope is not made that
hangs me."