THE REDOUBT FALLS
After Hopalong had ridden off on his desert trailing, Johnny and Red
rode to the Question-Mark, reaching it a little after daylight and
were promptly challenged when near the smaller corral. The sharp voice
changed to a friendly tone when the sentry had a better look at the
pair.
"Thought you'd be up with th' circus," said the Question-Mark puncher.
"On our way now," replied Johnny. "Come down here to learn what was
happenin'. Meet Red Connors, an old friend of Waffles."
"Howd'y," grunted the puncher, looking at Red with a keener interest.
"You fellers are lucky--_we_ got to stay here an' miss it all. Walt
come down last night an' said Kane's goin' to be a hard nut to crack.
He's fixed up like a fort."
"Reckon we'll take a look at it," said Johnny, wheeling.
"Hey! If you want to find Mac, he's hangin' out at Quayle's."
Johnny waved his thanks and rode on with his cheerful companion.
In due time they heard the distant firing and not much later rode
up to Quayle's back door and went in. McCullough was raging at the
effectiveness of the sharpshooters on Kane's roof who had succeeded
in keeping the fight at long range and who dominated certain strategic
positions which the trail-boss earnestly desired to make use of; all of
which made him irritable and unusually gruff.
"Where _you_ been?" he demanded as Johnny entered.
"Locatin' a missin' herd of yore cattle," retorted Johnny, nettled by
the tone. "They're waitin' for you when you get time to go after 'em.
Now we'll locate them sharpshooters. Anythin' else you can't do, let us
know. Come on, Red," and he went out again, his grinning friend at his
heels. At the door Red checked him.
"Looks like a long-range job, Kid. My gun's all right for closer work,
but I ought to have a Sharp's for this game."
Johnny wheeled and went back. "Gimme a Sharp's," he demanded.
"Take Wilson's--they got him yesterday," growled the trail-boss,
pointing.
Johnny took the gun and the cartridge belt hanging on it, joined Red
and led the way to a place he had in mind. Reaching the selected spot,
an adobe hut on the remote outskirts of the sprawled town, he stopped.
"This is good enough for me," he grunted, "except th' range is too
cussed long. Well, we'll try it from here, anyhow."
"I'm goin' to th' next shack," replied Red, moving on. "We'll use our
old follow-shootin'--an' make 'em sick. Ready? I'm goin' to cross th'
open." At his friend's affirmative grunt Red leaned over and dashed for
the other adobe. A bullet whined in front of him, barely heard above
the roar of Johnny's rifle. He settled down, adjusted the sights and
proceeded to prove title to his widely known reputation on other ranges
of being the best rifle-shot of many square miles. "Make a hit, Kid?"
he called. "It's mebby further than you figger."
"It is," answered Johnny. "Like old times, huh? Lord help 'em when you
get started! Are you all set? I'm ready to draw 'em."
"Wind gentle, from th' east," mumbled Red. "Dirty gun--got to shoot
higher. All right," he called, nestling the heavy stock.
Johnny pushed his rifle around the corner of the building, aimed
quickly and fired. A hatted head arose above Kane's roof and a puff of
smoke spurted into the air above it as Red's Sharp's roared. The hat
flew backward and the head ducked down again, its owner surprised by
the luck of the shot.
Johnny laughed outright. "For a trial shot I'm admittin' that was a
whizzer. I ain't no slouch with a Sharp's--but how th' devil you can
make one behave like _you_ do is a puzzle to me."
"I'm still starin'," said a humorous, envious voice behind them and
they looked around to see Waffles hugging the end of the building. "If
I can get over on Red's right I'll help make targets for him."
"Walk right over to that other shack," called Johnny. "Yo're safe as if
you was home in yore bunk. Cover him, Red."
Waffles' mind flashed back into the past and what it presented to him
greatly reassured him, but to walk was tempting Providence; he ran
across the open and again Red's rifle roared.
"Got him!" yelled Johnny, staring at the body lying over the distant
parapet. It was swiftly pulled back out of sight. The rest of Johnny's
words were profanely eulogistic.
"Shut yore face," growled Red. "It was plumb luck."
"_Shore_ it was," laughed his friend in joyous irony; "but yo're allus
makin' 'em. That's what counts."
Waffles, having gained the shelter he coveted, looked around. "Heads
was plentiful up there yesterday. There was allus one or two bobbin'
up. I'm bettin' they'll be scarcer today."
"They'll be scarcer tomorrow, when we are behind them other shacks,"
replied Red. "They're easy three hundred paces nearer, an' that's a lot
sometimes."
"An' twice as much to them," rejoined Johnny. "Th' nearer you get th'
more you make it even terms. You stay where you are--me an' Waffles'll
go out there tonight."
When the afternoon dragged to an end Red had another sharpshooter
to his credit, and the dominating group on the roof were much less
dominant. They cursed the long-range genius who shot hats off of heads,
clipped ears, and had killed two men. The shooting, with a rest and
plenty of time to aim, would have been creditable enough; but to hit a
bobbing head meant quick handling. They were properly indignant, for
it was a toss-up with Death to show enough of their heads to sight a
slanting rifle. One of their number, whose mangled ear was bound up
with a generous amount of bandage, savagely hammered the chisel with
which he was cutting a loophole through four inches of seasoned wood,
vowing vengeance on the man who had ruined his looks.
The light failing for close shooting, the three friends left their
positions and went to the hotel for a late supper, Red receiving
envious, grinning looks as he entered the dining-room. Idaho promptly
forsook his bosom friends and went over to finish his meal at the table
of the newcomers.
"We got Red Frank's place plumb full of holes--you can see daylight
through th' second floor," he announced; "but it don't seem to do no
good. If I could get close enough to use a bomb I got, we might clean
'em up."
"Crawl up in th' dark," suggested Waffles.
"Can't; they spread flour all around th' place, an' th' minute a man
crosses it he shows up plain. Two of us found out _all_ about _that_!"
"Go through or over th' buildin's this side of th' place," said Johnny,
visualizing the street. "They lead up close to Red Frank's."
Idaho stared, and slapped his thigh in enthusiastic endorsement. "I
reckon you called it!" he gloated. "Wait till I tell th' boys," and he
hastened back to his friends. Judging from the sudden noise coming from
the table, his friends were of the same opinion and, bolting the rest
of the meal, they hastened away to forthwith try the plan.
McCullough entered the dining-room and strode straight to Johnny. "Did
I hear you say you know where my cattle are?" he asked, sitting down.
Johnny nodded, chewed hurriedly and replied. "I didn't finish it. _I_
don't know where they are, but Hopalong is trailin' 'em, an' _he_'ll
know when he comes back. Pay us them rewards now, instead of later, an'
I'll do some high an' mighty guessin' about yore head--an' bet you th'
rewards that I guess right."
The trail-boss laughed. "You've shore got plenty of nerve," he
retorted. "When this fight is over there won't be no rewards paid. We
got th' whole gang in them two buildin's, an' we got 'em good. You've
had yore trouble for nothin', Nelson."
"How 'bout th' gang that are with th' herd?" asked Johnny, a note of
anger edging his words.
McCullough shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't worryin' about
them--they'll never come back to Mesquite."
"That so?" queried Johnny, sarcastically. "I ought to keep my mouth
shut, th' way yo're talkin', but I hate to see good men killed. I'll
bet you they'll come back just at dawn, some time in th' next five
days. An' I'll bet you they'll sneak up on this hotel an' raise th'
devil, while Kane starts a bunch from his place and Red Frank's, to
help 'em. Th' minute they start shootin' in here their friends'll
sortie out an' carry th' fight to you. Want to bet on it?"
McCullough regarded the speaker through narrowed lids. "How do you
figger that?" he demanded suspiciously. "You gettin' that out of yore
medicine bag, too?" and then he eagerly drank in every word of the
explanation. After a moment's thought he looked around the room and
then back to the smiling Johnny. "Much obliged, Nelson. I'm beginnin'
to see that I owe you fellers somethin', after all. If them fellers we
want were loose an' you got 'em, then of course th' reward would stand;
but you can't win it very well when we've got 'em corraled. Who-all is
in that bunch with th' herd?"
Johnny smiled but shook his head.
"Didn't you say you knowed who killed Ridley?" persisted the trail-boss.
"I know him, an' how he did it. Hopalong saw him while his gun was
smokin', but didn't know what he had shot at till later."
"Why didn't you tell me, an' earn that reward right away?"
"That's only half of th' rewards," replied Johnny. "There's money up
for th' fellers that robbed th' bank. If we got Ridley's murderer th'
others might 'a' smelled out what we was after. You see, I was robbed
of more than eleven hundred dollars th' first night I was in town.
Th' money belonged to th' ranch. Th' only chance I had of gettin' it
back was to make th' rewards big enough to stand three splits that
would be large enough to cover it. An' I'm still goin' to do that,
Mac. Pay it now an' we'll stick with you till you get th' men an' yore
herd. Of course, yo're going to get th' herd, anyhow, as far as we are
concerned. I ain't holdin' that over yore head; I'm only tryin' to show
you why I can't be open an' free with you."
"I couldn't pay th' rewards now even if I wanted to," said the
trail-boss.
"I know that, an' I didn't think you would. I was only showin' you how
things are with us."
McCullough nodded, placed a hand on the speaker's shoulder and arose,
turning to Red. "Connors," he said, "yo're a howlin' wonder with a
Sharp's. Much obliged for holdin' down that roof. If you can clean 'em
up there this fight'll go on a cussed sight faster. Th' cover on th'
north side of Kane's is so poor that we can't do much out there, but we
can do a little better when them sharpshooters are driven down. From
what I know of you two, yore friend Cassidy is shore able to trail that
herd. I've quit worryin' about everythin' but th' fight here in town.
An' lemme make a long speech a little longer: If you fellers can earn
them rewards I won't waste no time in payin' up; but there ain't a
chance for you. We got 'em under our guns."
"Who was right about where that raid on you was goin' to take place?"
asked Johnny. "You was purty shore about that, too, wasn't you?"
The trail-boss smiled and shook his head. "Yo're a good guesser," he
admitted, and went out to consult with Lukins.
The next day found the line a little tighter around the stronghold,
thanks to Red's shooting, which increased in accuracy after he had
decided to use closer cover and cut three hundred paces out of the
range. Better positions had been gained by the attackers during the
night, some of the more daring men now being not far from point-blank
range, which enabled them to make the use of Kane's loopholes
hazardous. To the north another rifleman lay in a hollow of the sandy
plain, but too far away to do much damage. The north parapet of the
building was hidden from Red by the one on the south and the aerial
marksmen made free use of it.
Red Frank's place was in jeopardy, for Idaho and his enthusiastic
companions were in the building next on the south, separated from the
Mexican's house by less than twenty feet. There was an open window
facing the gambling-house and Idaho, chancing quick glances through
it, noticed that one of the heavy, board shutters of a window of the
upper floor sagged out a little from the top. Signaling the men behind
the jail to increase their fire, he coiled his rope and cast it through
the window. It struck the upper edge of the shutter, dropped behind it
and grew swiftly taut. Two of his companions added their strength to
his, while the other two covered them by pouring a heavy revolver fire
at the two threatening loopholes. The shutter creaked, twisted, and
then slowly gave way, finally breaking the lower hinge and sailing over
against the other house to a cheer from the jail. Heavy firing came
through the uncovered window, the bullets passing through the opposing
wall and driving the Diamond L men to other shelter. Here they waited
until it died down and then, picking up the bomb made by the owner of
the new freight wagon, Idaho lit the jumpy, uncertain fuse, waited as
long as he dared and hurled it across the intervening space and through
the shutterless window as the opening was being boarded up. There was a
roar, jets of smoke spurt from windows and holes and the wild cursing
of injured men rang out loudly. A tongue of flame leaped through a
trapdoor on the roof and grew rapidly brighter. At intervals the smoke
pouring up became suddenly heavy and thick, but cleared quickly between
the onslaughts of the water buckets. Fire now crept through the side of
the frame structure and mounted rapidly, and such a hail of lead poured
through the smoke-spurting, upper loopholes that it became impossible
for the buckets to be properly used. It was only a matter of time
before the blazing roof and floor would fall on the defenders in the
adobe-walled structure below, and through a loophole Red Frank suddenly
shoved out a soiled towel fastened on the end of a rifle barrel.
"Come ahead, with yore hands up!" shouted a stentorian voice from the
jail. "Quit firin', boys; they're surrenderin'." Almost on the tail of
his words a hurrying line of choking Mexicans, bearing their wounded,
streamed from the front door. They were promptly and proudly escorted
by the hilarious attackers to safe quarters on the southern outskirts
of the town.