PURSUIT
Slowly the import of what Bug Eye had said was realized by every one
in the Manleys’ living room. Teddy ran forward. Roy was not a moment
behind him.
“Sit down here, Bug Eye!” the younger boy cried, thrusting a chair
toward the swaying man. With a gasp of relief, Bug Eye sank into it.
“I’m sure some tired,” he declared slowly, “_and_ thirsty! If I
could have--”
“Just a second!” Roy hurried to the pitcher of water which stood on
a table in a corner. “Here! Take it easy now. There’s ice in it.”
Bug Eye drank in great gulps, grunting with satisfaction. When he
had finished he leaned back in his chair and looked at the ring of
anxious faces. Even the orchestra had deserted its post and stood
with the others, eagerly waiting for the story of the robbery.
“Are you hurt at all, Bug Eye?” Mr. Manley asked. “Anything we can
get you?”
“No, I’m O. K. now, thanks,” the man answered. “I was just thirsty
and winded. Why, those double-distilled, knock-kneed, ornery bunch
of tin mule-stealers, drat their hides, made me walk all the way
from Sanborn’s Point!”
“He’s all right,” Teddy said to Roy, with a grin. “The same old Bug
Eye! Listen to him rave!”
Having gotten some of the accumulated feeling out of his system, the
puncher ended with a vigorous “whoosh!” and started his story.
“Well, when the boss got your message,” he said, nodding toward Nell
and Ethel, “he told me to get set for a trip to the X Bar X. So I
filled the ole puddle-jumper up with oil, gas, an’ water. Long about
four o’clock the boss gives me two boxes an’ tells me to treat ’em
careful. Roy, hand me that pitcher again, will you?” The young
fellow complied, and after another drink Bug Eye went on:
“So I throws ’em in the back. I means I puts ’em in the back. Then
Mrs. Ball comes out an’ gives me another box, a small one, which she
tells me to be _very_ careful of. Says it’s a present for Miss Belle
here.” And Bug Eye nodded once more. “So I puts that with the
dresses--Mrs. Ball tells me what was in the other boxes, so I
wouldn’t sit on ’em by mistake,” he apologized.
“Then I starts out. Got along fine till I reached Sanborn’s
Point--you know where that is, hey Teddy? Well, I shoots her the
gas, so’s I can make the hill on high. But nothin’ doin’. ’Bout half
way up she stalls, an’ I shoves her in low gear. Just as I do that,
I hear a yell, an’ three men with masks jumps from the bushes, guns
out, business ends toward me, an’ tells me to stop!”
There was a buzz of excited comment, and questions were shot at Bug
Eye with machine-gun rapidity. He simply shook his head and went on.
“Now, boys, give me time! I’m tellin’ it as fast as I know how. As I
said, they tells me to stop. So I stops, not bein’ crazy. They pulls
me from the front seat an’ pushes me into the bushes. Then they hop
in, one of ’em behind the wheel, one of ’em keepin’ me covered. The
other watches out the side.
“An’ up they go--up the hill an’ down the other side, with flivver,
dresses, present, an’ all!”
“But, Bug Eye, you said something about knowing who did it!” Roy
exclaimed. “Could you recognize the men?”
Bug Eye looked up at his questioner. He leaned forward in his chair,
his elbows resting on his knees.
“One of them,” he said slowly and deliberately, “had a scar on the
left side of his face!”
“Gilly--” Teddy burst out, and then stopped. His father cast a
warning glance at him.
“Thought you said they had masks on?” Mr. Manley remarked.
“They did; but they was only half-masks,” Bug Eye explained. “I
could see the scar below.”
“Do you know any one with a scar on the left side of his face?” the
cattle owner questioned, looking sharply at the seated man.
Before he replied, Bug Eye got to his feet. His fists were clenched.
“I’ll say I do!” he roared. “An’ I got good reason, too! That’s the
hombre that’s been rustlin’ our cattle, an’ you can’t tell me any
different.”
“Why do you say that?” Teddy asked, leaning forward.
“Because I seen him!” Bug Eye exclaimed. “That’s why! I was on the
range that day the bunch was cut from our herd. I saw ’em go, too,
an’ made a dash for the rustlers. But they got away. There was one
buckeroo who took a pot shot at me, an’ I saw him close! He was the
one with the scar on his face, an’ he’s the one who stole that
flivver, or I’m a Siamese twin!”
“You don’t know his name, do you?” Roy demanded excitedly.
“You mean what he _calls_ himself? No, I don’t! An’ I don’t want to
either! I don’t need no introduction to a rattlesnake to shoot him!”
In the excitement, Gus Tripp had arisen and was listening with the
rest. Now he walked forward and held out his uninjured hand to the
driver of the stolen flivver.
“Shake, Bug Eye,” he said solemnly. “You an’ me are together on
that. I’m lookin’ fer that very same rattlesnake!”
“What happened to you?” Bug Eye asked, in surprise.
“Little accident,” and Gus grinned sardonically. “Accident caused by
that hombre with the scar on his face you tell about bein’
interested in. He shot me.”
“Yea? You don’t say! Well, by golly, we’ll get him! Shake!”
“Here, we’re in on this!” Pop Burns cried, stepping forward. “He
stole three of our best horses, each one with the purtiest X Bar X
brand on it you ever see, ’cause I branded ’em myself!”
“What do you say, boys?” Mr. Manley cried, turning to the punchers.
“Do we go after ’em? Hey?”
“You bet!” came his answer in a roaring chorus. “Let’s go! Nick,
throw that mouth-organ of yours out the window! We got business!”
“All right, boys! On our way!”
There was a rush for the door. Decorations were scattered
ruthlessly. Chairs were tossed aside. And where, but a moment
before, was a crowd of jostling, happy, overdressed cowpunchers, now
stood only Mrs. Manley, Belle, Ethel, Nell and Norine, looks of
anxiety on their faces. Even Gus Tripp had gone with the rest.
“Our evening dresses!” Ethel exclaimed mournfully. “We can say
good-bye to them, I guess!”
“You may get them back!” Belle insisted. “When dad goes after some
one he usually lands him; doesn’t he, Mother?”
Mrs. Manley did not reply. She stood twisting her handkerchief into
a tight knot. In her heart was a prayer that her two boys and her
husband would come through safely.
Outside, Teddy, Roy, and the others were running for the corral.
“Hold on! Wait a minute!” Mr. Manley called. “We can’t all go! Gus,
where in thunder do you think you’re bound for? Come back here! Want
to be in bed two days more?”
“Aw, please, boss!” Gus coaxed. “I’m all right, honest! I want to
get a crack at the guy who laid me up! Can’t I come, boss?”
“No!” Mr. Manley said with finality. “You’re too good a man to lose.
You get back into the house. Anyway, we have to keep some men here.
Teddy, Roy, Nick, Pop, Jim, Bug Eye an’ I will do the chasin’. The
rest of you punchers hang around here. Can’t tell but that Fr--I
mean the thieves who stole the flivver--may have done it to draw us
away from the X Bar X. We have to keep our heads up. They’re not
goin’ to pull off any more robberies if I can help it! Climb aboard
your broncs, boys, an’ let’s go! Nick, get a mount for Bug Eye.”
Without stopping to change their resplendent attire for something
more serviceable, the X Bar X punchers whom Mr. Manley had named
flung themselves on to their horses. White shirt fronts stuck out
grotesquely from vivid-colored vests. Green ties flaunted free in
the night wind. “City trousers” tickled the horses’ sides. Yet from
each belt hung a heavy revolver.
“Step on it!” Mr. Manley yelled as they swept out of the yard. “All
you’ve got, boys! Don’t waste any time! We’ll get those rustlers, or
know the reason why! No slip-ups this time!”
Across the moonlit range the riders galloped. Men and boys leaned
forward in their saddles. On each face was a look of grim
determination.