THE MAN WITH THE SCAR
High above the riders, the full moon shone, a white orb set in the
velvet blackness of the sky, lighting the scene with a silvery
radiance. Soon the buildings of the X Bar X were left behind and the
horsemen raced swiftly over the open range. Bug Eye was in the lead,
and he made straight for the spot where he had been held up.
Teddy and Roy were riding side by side, a short distance behind
their father.
“If we’re able to trail the thieves, we may find out something about
our horses!” Teddy yelled to his brother.
“Hope so,” Roy returned. “It’ll be a good night’s work if we do.”
On and on they rode. There was little time for conversation, as the
ponies were flashing along at their best speed. They came to an up
grade, at the top of which was Sanborn’s Point. As they neared their
destination, Mr. Manley called to Teddy:
“You an’ Roy stick close to Bug Eye. I’m going to come in from the
left, and see if I can spot the rustlers.”
Teddy nodded and spurred his mount onward. Shouting to Nick and Pop
to follow him, Mr. Manley wheeled about in a semicircle. The rest
followed Bug Eye.
“Almost there!” Bug Eye yelled to Roy. “Where’s yore dad goin’?”
“He’s circling around to the left, so he can cut in! There’s a trail
that leads to Hawley--guess you know the one I mean--and dad’s
figuring on cutting the thieves off, if they went that way!”
“Good idee!”
With a final dash, Bug Eye’s party reached Sanborn’s Point. Bug Eye
held up his hand, and all pulled the horses back.
“Right here is where she happened,” the puncher said. “I was coming
up the hill, and when I got here they jumped me. Then they went over
this rise in the flivver, an’ I lost sight of ’em. See! There’s the
tracks of the wheels! Boy, I’m sure thankful there’s a moon! Now we
can foller them tracks, an’ we may run into the galoots after all!”
As Bug Eye had said, the imprints of the tires led over the hill.
Slowly the punchers followed them, and when the rise was topped
Teddy gave a yell.
“The tracks go left from here! Just the way dad went! Come on--let’s
go!”
Leaving the road, the men followed the tire trail off to the left.
In the soft soil this was not a hard thing to do, and they could
ride faster now and still keep the tracks in sight.
“If we ever catch up to them waddies, they’ll wish they’d never seen
that tin mule!” Bug Eye vowed. “Makin’ me walk all them miles!
What’d they want with a Lizzie, anyhow? Did they think I was
carryin’ dust or somethin’? By golly, I bet they took the car out of
plain cussedness! They don’t want that flivver any more than the man
in the moon!”
“Seems like you’re right, there,” Roy agreed. “But you never can
tell. We’ve got a little account to settle with scar-face, and the
sooner we square it the better.”
“Say, Bug Eye, you didn’t happen to notice whether one of those men
who robbed you had on a checkered shirt, did you?” Teddy called out
as he rode along.
“Checkered shirt? Well, now that you mention it, I do remember just
that! Long, stringy sort of ranger, with a peaked hat? Yep! Why did
you ask that, Teddy?”
“Tell you later, Bug Eye,” the boy answered. He felt that this was
no time for explanations, when they were riding hard to catch the
man who had taken Flash. Teddy was sorry the flivver had been
stolen. “But,” he said to himself, “what’s a flivver compared to
Flash?”
Jim Casey, who was riding slightly in the rear, suddenly gave a
yell.
“Here’s somethin’ like a box at the side of the road!” he called.
Bug Eye looked to where Jim was pointing, and then jumped off his
pony. He ran toward the object, and, bending over, he examined it
carefully.
“We’re on the right trail, boys!” he exclaimed. “This here is the
box Mrs. Ball gave me fer yore sister, Teddy. But it’s empty, now.
Whatever was in it, the thieves took. Well, that’s some help! Roy,
we ought to meet up with yore dad soon, unless he made a powerful
wide circle.”
Remounting again, Bug Eye and the rest resumed their chase. Ahead of
them they spied three horsemen.
“There’s dad now!” Roy cried, forcing his mount onward. “Yay, Dad!
Find anything?”
“Not yet! But we’ve not finished! How’d you make out?”
“We got a clue, boss!” Jim Casey answered. “I spotted a box in the
road an’ Bug Eye says it was in the flivver with him. So the thieves
must have come this way.”
Roy spurred his horse close to his father’s.
“Another thing, Dad,” the boy remarked in a low voice. “Bug Eye said
that one of the hold-up men had on a checkered shirt!”
“You don’t say!” Mr. Manley appeared startled. “But of course we
have to remember that there’s probably more than one checkered shirt
around here, though I don’t recall ever seein’ one as loud as the
one we noticed at Eagles. Roy, that’s right interestin’ news!”
“Do we go on, boss?” Nick Looker asked.
“We sure do!” the ranch owner answered forcibly. “We’ll trail that
flivver till we get it, by jinks!”
Once more the riders started off. The night was growing misty now,
and the tracks were harder to see, so that the punchers had to
proceed more slowly. Once Pop Burns thought he saw the car at one
side, but it proved to be only a large boulder.
After riding some five or six miles, Mr. Manley called to his party
to halt.
“There’s something fishy about this,” the cattle owner declared.
“These tracks don’t seems to get any place! An’ by the way, there’s
more than one car in this part of the country, though I can’t think
why any one would take this trail unless they wanted to get away in
a hurry. Let’s spread out, and cover more ground. Even if we do find
the flivver, it won’t help us much. It’s a cinch the thieves aren’t
going to hang around it, once it stops; an’ it can’t go on forever.
How much gas did it have in the tank, Bug Eye?”
“Plenty, Mr. Manley. I filled her up just before I started.”
“Then the rustlers can lead us a merry chase. Now I have an idea
that they may have left one man to drive the flivver, so as to fool
us into following the tracks, while the other two--and I’ll bet
they’re the two we want to get--took a side path. Yep, boys, we
ought to separate. We can cover more ground then.”
“Say when, boss,” Nick Looker exclaimed. “We’ll rake this range with
a fine comb!”
“Well, let’s get started then! Every man for himself! Spread out! If
you get into trouble, fire three shots. But don’t get too far apart,
so the fellow next to you couldn’t hear them. I’ll be the center
man, and you can deploy on me. Open up now, boys, an’ let’s go!”
With a yell to the horses, the chase started anew. Teddy and Roy
took the left and right of Mr. Manley, each riding out straight for
a quarter of a mile, and then turning. The others rode the same
distance from the man nearest to him, until there was a long line
streaked across the prairie. The ground was fairly level here, and
there were few trees, the growth being mostly sage bush.
More clouds had obscured the face of the moon, making the night
dark. Roy tried to keep an even interval from his father and the man
on his right, but he found that this was impossible, so he rode
forward hoping he might catch a glimpse of the rustlers.
A slight grade rose ahead of him, and he urged his mount up it. A
little to his left he saw a small clump of trees. Deciding to ride
close to these, Roy pulled his horse over. As he did so, he uttered
an exclamation.
Out of the group of trees had ridden a man on horseback. He turned,
and saw Roy coming toward him. Wheeling his bronco about, he
re-entered the shadow of the grove.
Roy leaped his steed forward to the edge of the wooded section. He
heard the sound of a creaking saddle and turned swiftly. His hand
flashed down to his gun.
But he was too late. Not two feet from his head was the blue barrel
of a revolver, held in a steady grasp.
“Welcome, stranger!” a sardonic voice exclaimed.
At that moment the moon slid from behind a cloud, lighting the scene
with its pale glow. And, like some vision of the night, motionless
and tense, a horseman sat facing Roy. The man’s head was turned
slightly to the right, and on the left cheek Roy saw a deep scar.