BUD FINDS A NOTE
Billee Dobb approached deliberately and gazed long and earnestly into
the face of the recumbent man.
"So that's Delton, is it?" he said. "He sure took a funny way to come
back. Wonder if he's--" the rancher stooped swiftly and laid his hand
on the breast of the man. "Nope! Still living. We'd better get him
to the house soon as possible. Grab hold there, Bud."
Lifting him as gently as they could, so they might not cause the blood
to flow more strongly, they carried the injured man toward the ranch
house. They laid him on the couch in the living-room, which was known
as the "parlor," and generally reserved for funerals.
"I'll get some water and bandages--if I can find any," said Bud when he
had disposed of his burden.
"That white shirt of the Kid's will do," Billee suggested as Bud made
for the door. "He's got it rolled up in his saddle pack."
The man on the couch seemed to be breathing more strongly now. The
blood from the cut had partly clotted, and the flow was greatly
diminished. But a glance at his face showed that he was in a very weak
condition.
"Must have been lyin' out there quite a spell," Billee commented, as
Bud returned with the shirt and a basin of water. The news of the
unconscious visitor had traveled fast, for Dick, Nort and the Kid
followed Bud into the room.
"Who is he?" asked the Kid as he bent over. "Little feller, ain't he?"
"Recognize him, Dick?" Bud said, kneeling down by the man's side and
dipping one end of the shirt in his basin.
"No, can't say that I--yes I do, too! It's the fellow that was here
when we came--the one who offered us the thousand! It's 'J. D.'!"
"Right. We found him lying over by a shack, dead to the world. Billee
and I carried him in here. Seems to have a nasty cut, but I don't
believe it's dangerous. Way he talked to me here awhile ago, he's too
ornery to die."
"Must have been caught in the big wind," Nort said. "Hit by a board,
probably."
"So that's Delton, hey?" Yellin' Kid drawled. "Well, mister, I'm
pleased to make your acquaintance. You don't look pertikerly dangerous
to me. But you can't tell about these quiet ones. Liable to fly up
any minute. Don't wash that blood off, Bud! Leave it lay. Have him
bleedin' again if you don't watch out. Nort, mosey out an' see if that
dumb Mex has got the coffee ready. Bring in some, will you? Leave the
'Canned cow' out of it. When this boy wakes up he wants something
strong."
The man's eyes opened for a minute, then closed again. The dusk
outside was settling rapidly now, and the room was growing darker.
Dick ran to the kitchen and returned with a lighted candle, which he
held close to the head of the recumbent figure. By this time their
visitor had regained consciousness, and was staring wide-eyed at the
group surrounding the couch--three men leaning expectantly over his
body, while a fourth held a lighted candle aloft like a weird statue.
Little wonder that a man awaking to such surroundings would be somewhat
bewildered.
"How do you feel, mister?" Yellin' Kid asked solicitously when he saw
that Delton was conscious.
"Not so--good," was the jerky answer. "Stomach--sick--head feels--"
"Swally this," urged Billee holding to his lips the steaming coffee
Nort had brought from the kitchen. "Sure it's hot! Don't want cold
sody, do ya? 'At's-a-boy--drink 'er down! Better now?"
"Yea," the man answered in a weak voice. "What happened? Woolworth
tower fall on me? Wow! What a head! Seems to me I remember takin' a
subway train at Times Square--or was that last year? Can't just think
straight now----"
"New York," whispered Bud to Dick. "Thought he didn't look like a
westerner!"
"Just you lay quiet," advised Yellin' Kid. "Won't do you a bit of good
to talk now. Got lots of time to do that. You stay here to-night,
an'----"
"I remember now! That storm! I was riding over toward the Shootin'
Star ranch, when the sky got black, and that dumb-bell horse of mine
started to act up. The next minute I got hit by a ton of bricks."
He was silent a moment, thinking.
"Say--" he suddenly propped himself up on one elbow and glanced around.
"I know where I am! Yes. And I know you--and you!" pointing at Bud
and Dick. "You're the two galoots that--oh!" he finished weakly, and
sank back. He closed his eyes again. It was not evident to the
watchers whether he had really fainted, or whether he realized he was
talking too much.
At all events it was useless to expect him to say more. At Bud's
suggestion he was carried upstairs, and after his heavier clothing had
been removed he was laid in one of the beds. He seemed to be resting
easily, and if his sleepy attitude was simulated at first, it certainly
was not now, as his regular breathing and relaxed condition indicated.
"Better let him sleep," Dick said in a low voice. "He'll be all right
when he wakes up. The bleeding from his head has stopped, and if he
had anything else the matter he would have told us. I think we'd all
better eat. Let's get out of here, anyway--we'll disturb him if we
talk much."
"Eat!" exclaimed the Kid when they had all left the room wherein Delton
lay. "Let's see now--have I heard that word before, or did I dream it?
Believe me, when I sit down to this chow nothin' is goin' to drag me
away--fire, wind or flood! Seems like that Mex cook of ours is a
hoodoo. Every time we start to eat something happens."
"Guess we'll go through with it all right this time," Dick remarked
with a laugh. "Here we are, boys. Set! And go to it! Enough bacon
here for an army. Kid, go easy on that bread! You want to choke?"
The five were seated around a table in the rear of the house. In the
middle of the table was a huge plate of bacon, and next to this was a
mess of beans, steaming hot. Bread, butter, coffee and condensed milk
or "Canned cow" completed the repast.
"Wonder where the Mex got all this food?" Nort asked as he reached for
the bread. "Real good, anyhow. Guess we'd better keep the Greaser, if
he'll stay."
"Keep him 'til we get settled," added Dick. "I don't exactly like his
looks. He's too much like the Mex that Joe Hawkins pointed out--the
one he said to watch out for--remember?--to suit me."
"Don't be tryin' to find trouble, Dick," advised Bud. "That Mex is
just as good as the next one. But it is funny why he should be
lingering around here when all the rest lit out. And to have this food
all ready for us. Well----"
"Got a few suspicions up your own sleeve, eh?" laughed Dick.
"Boys," Billee said slowly, "I want to tell you something. You
remember what your Dad said about smugglin', Bud?"
At the word the men at the table gave a slight start.
"Yes, smugglin'. You'd forgot all about it, hadn't ye? Well, I ain't.
While we were in Hawkins's office I noticed a bill-head on his desk. I
took it. Here it is."
He passed over the paper to the Kid. The others got up and leaned over
the Kid's shoulder, reading it.
"Two thousand dollars' reward," said the Kid haltingly, "for the a-rest
and con-viction of--the person whose picture is below, and who is known
in New York as Dapper Dan Craven. He is wanted for smuggling Chinese.
Escaped custody at----"
He stopped. His eyes sought the picture.
"By the ghost of my aunt Lizzy's cat!" he exclaimed. "If it ain't our
friend Delton!"
Bud reached over and slowly took the paper from the Kid's nerveless
hand.
"Delton!" he cried, as he saw the picture. "Just as sure as I'm
living, that's who it is!"
"But why didn't Hawkins arrest him, then?" Nort asked in a puzzled tone
of voice. "He knew where he was. He could have come out any time and
put the bracelets on him and he'd have his man."
"Now, boys, if you'll give me a little time, I'll--" started Billee
Dobb in a calm voice.
"Go ahead!"
"We're listenin'!"
"Well, in the first place, I don't think Joe Hawkins ever saw this
Delton. You know what a hard job we had gettin' to the ranch--I bet if
we had had Hawkins with us we would have had to fight our way in.
That's what that guard was out for--the one that tried to stop us. He
knew we weren't deputies, so he let us go through.
"Also, that bill was just printed and sent to Hawkins. Perhaps he
didn't have time to look at it. And say--that accounts for Delton's
quick get-away, too. One of his men rode in an' told him that there
was a price on him, and he got, fast. He must have made this ranch his
headquarters. No wonder he didn't have no sheep around! Boys, we can
expect some right excitin' things to happen, in the next few weeks!"
Silence followed Billee's long speech. The veteran rancher had thrown
a veritable bombshell into camp. Delton--the man lying asleep
upstairs--the head of the smugglers! Two thousand dollars' reward!
Why, all they had to do was to tie him up and carry him to town--over
to the deputy's house. Capturing the smuggling king the first night at
the Shooting Star! It seemed too good to be true.
"There's a catch in it somewhere," commented Dick. "No man with a
reward like that on his head is going to dump himself into our hands."
"Why not? It wasn't his fault. He came sneakin' around the place to
spy on us and got caught by the cyclone. Then a board or something hit
him on the head and he fell where we found him. Nothing strange about
that! We got him and got him good! Wow, what can't we do with two
thousand dollars!"
"There's one thing we forgot, boys," the Kid broke in.
"And what's that?"
"We're downstairs, an' Delton is upstairs."
"That's soon fixed!" Bud cried, as he sprang for the steps. "Let's go,
boys!"
"Take it easy!" cautioned the Kid quickly. "What's the use of scarin'
him? We'll just go up there and truss him up while he's asleep. Won't
hurt him. That cut on the head was all that ailed him. Now, take your
time!"
The ranchers moved quietly toward the room in which they had left
Delton. As he reached the door, Bud opened it slowly and peered in.
Not a sound. Then he stuck his head in a bit further. Still no
action. In the darkness he could see the outline of the bed but
faintly.
Softly he turned the covers down. Farther--farther! Then he let out a
yell.
"Hey, come here! Quick!"
"What's the trouble?" The Kid called as he entered the room.
"He's gone! He beat it! Look!"
In the bed, molded into the shape of a man, were two pillows. Delton
had escaped, leaving the pillows in such a way as to make it appear
that he was still in the bed.
"Here's a note!" Bud cried. "He left it on one of the pillows. Let's
have that candle, Dick."
By the flickering spluttering light of the candle Bud read aloud:
"Sorry I got to go so sudden, but this bed is too hard. I wouldn't
sleep well. If you guys want a little advice, you'll move along out of
this section. It ain't healthy. A word to the wise. J. D."