UGLY COMPANY
Larkin's revolver was empty, and his hands mechanically went up.
The captor on his right relieved him of the useless weapon, and, in a
trice, produced a rope, with which he bound the sheepman's arms tightly
behind him. With the other end of the rope turned about the pommel of his
saddle, he dropped back into the darkness, while his companion rode to a
position ahead of Larkin.
At a growled word from behind, the little cavalcade advanced, Larkin
mystified, uncertain and fuming with impotent rage. Never in his life had
he been so needed as he was at that time by Sims and the herdsmen; never
in his life had he so ardently desired liberty and freedom of action.
Why these men had captured him he did not know; what they intended doing
with him he had no idea--although his knowledge of plainsmen's character
supplied him with two or three solutions hardly calculated to exhilarate
the victim. Where they were taking him was almost as much of a puzzle,
for Bud, after the first few turns of his captors, completely lost his
sense of direction, except for the general compass of the stars.
No longer the friendly loom of the hogback was on his left. He felt the
free wind of the plains on his face, and calculated that they must have
returned to the open range.
Who his captors were was another puzzle. If these men had been driving the
cattle why did they not continue to drive them instead of turning aside to
make prisoner a harmless sheepman? If they were not driving the cattle--
A horrible suspicion crossed Bud's mind. If these were punchers from the
Bar T outfit he was indeed in a bad way, for no one knew better than
Larkin (by hearsay) the wild stories told of Beef Bissell's methods in a
cattle war.
The young man told himself calmly that if he got away with a few head of
sheep and an entire body he would consider himself fortunate in the
extreme.
For seemingly endless ages the leader trotted on ahead--so far, in fact,
did he ride that Larkin's arms and elbow joints were racked with pain from
being held so long in an unnatural position. At the end of what was
probably three hours, a small fiery glow made itself evident at some
distance across the plain, and the sheepman knew by this camp-fire that
the goal of his ride was in sight.
A solitary man sat by the fire, rolling and smoking a continuous stream of
cigarettes. Dimly seen in the near-by shadows were the long figures of
other men rolled in their blankets. Bud knew that not far off the hobbled
horses grazed, or had lain down to rest.
"Kick up the boys, Bill," said the man who held the rope. "Got somethin'
queer to look into this time."
"Aw, let 'em sleep, chief," drawled Bill without moving. "Some of 'em
ain't closed their eyes in nigh on three days. What's the matter?"
"Got a young captain here who 'lows he's some brave man, I reckon.
Leastways he come drivin' at us with fire a-poppin' out of his gun, an'
Shorty and me thinks we better investigate. So we nabs him when his gun's
empty and brings him in. A man that'll shoot around reckless the way this
feller did is plumb dangerous to have runnin' loose.
"But I guess you're right about the boys, Bill. I'll let 'em sleep an'
we'll talk to this maverick in the mornin'. Keep him under your eye."
Things were clearing up for Larkin. These men evidently thought that he
was some ambitious puncher on the lookout for rustlers. Up to this time
he had kept silent, borrowing no trouble and trusting to his ability to
identify himself. But now at the prospect of idling here all night and
part of the day he protested.
"Turn my arms loose, will you?" he demanded. "They're about broke off."
Joe, the chief, after carefully searching him for additional weapons,
complied with his request, in so far that he bound his wrists together in
front.
"Now, boys," said Bud, crisply, "I wish you'd tell me what this all means.
If you want to question me, do it now and let me go, for I've got mighty
important business up the line a way."
"I allow yuh have," remarked Joe, dryly. "Yuh also got some mighty
important business right here, if yuh only knowed it."
"What business."
"Fannin' yore gun at us that-a-way. Yore plumb careless, young feller. But
look here, I'm not a-goin' to stay up all night talkin' to yuh. You'll
have to talk to all the boys in the mornin'."
"But I can't wait till morning, I tell you," cried Bud, exasperated.
"Every minute I sit here I may be losing thousands of dollars. For
Heaven's sake let me go to-night, and I'll come back any other time you
say. I give you my word for it."
"Can't wait till to-morrer! Stranger, you may wait till the crack o' doom
before you ever get back to that business o' yourn."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Larkin, made strangely ill at ease by
some veiled meaning in the other's tone.
"Got to leave it to the boys," was Joe's evasive reply. "Better lay down
and git some sleep; likely to be busy all day to-morrer."
And Larkin, finding that all argument was as futile as trying to crack
Gibraltar with a cold chisel, relapsed into silence, and prepared to get
what rest he could until daylight.
Morning disclosed the fact that the group of men numbered about ten, each
with a horse near by, and all fully supplied with arms. In fact, there was
not a man among them who could not have "rolled a gun" with both hands if
necessary, and at the same time carried a knife between his teeth. This
matter of complete armament, together with Joe's ambiguous speeches of the
night before, wholly convinced Larkin that he had fallen in with a band of
rustlers.
Breakfast was prepared for himself by each man, Joe attending to the wants
of the prisoner, but no attempt was made to rope or saddle the horses.
They were evidently waiting for something. What this was became evident
shortly when another group of five men appeared around a distant rise and
loped to the rendezvous. Larkin reasoned that these must be the men who
continued the cattle drive after Joe and Pike had captured him.
The sheepman could not but admire the natural advantages of the place
chosen by his captors for the meeting. Rolling hills surrounded the little
pocket on all sides, and here and there a red scoria butte thrust its ugly
height out of the plain. The chances of discovery were infinitesimal.
The evolution of the rustler was logical but rapid, and started with the
general law that any ranch-owner was at liberty to brand with his mark any
maverick found on his range. As it was the cowboy who discovered these
strays, he was usually provided with a branding-iron and put the seal of
his employer on the animal wherever found.
From this it was but a step for unscrupulous punchers, or those with a
shrewd eye for business, to drive off unbranded cattle and ship them
independently to market, or to mark them with a private brand of their
own. All this was before the introduction of brand inspectors at the
stockyards of Omaha, Kansas City, or Chicago.
Therefore, among the men at this rendezvous Larkin noted types of cowmen
equal to any on the range for horsemanship and ability to handle cattle.
With his naturally quick eye, the sheepman observed them closely, but
failed to recognize any of them.
His case came up quickly.
By various papers in his possession he proved his identity.
"What were you doing out on the range last night?" asked Joe.
Bud hesitated for a minute and then, deciding that his safest and quickest
course would be to make a clean breast of things, replied:
"I was driving two thousand head of sheep north on the Bar T."
"Then you're not a cattleman?"
"No." Larkin produced his bills of sale for the sheep and these were
handed gravely about from one to another, although it was certain that
some of the men could not read them.
"How long are you going to stay in this country?"
"Just as long as it takes to get my sheep north. I come from Montana."
Joe beckoned a number of the men aside out of Larkin's hearing.
"We're plumb lucky," he announced. "If I know my book, old Bissell will
forget all about a few missin' calves when he knows this feller has sent
sheep up his range. Now we've got to run off about a hundred more head to
that railroad camp north of here, and I think we can use this Larkin."
A dark, sullen-looking puncher shook his head slowly.
"It's takin' chances," he growled. "String him up, I say. He knows us all
now, and I'd sooner he'd look through a rope than me."
"You shore are ornery, Pete," said a third, "an' plumb set on stretchin'
yore neck. Cain't yuh see that if yuh hang this feller we'll have both the
sheep and cattlemen ag'in us?"
"Shore, that's sense," broke in another. "Less hear Joe's scheme."
"'Tain't so blame much, boys," countered the chief modestly. "We'll make
this Larkin swear never to give word agin us if we don't kill him. Then
we'll run him off into the hills for four or five days with a guard,
finish our own drive, and clear out, lettin' him go. What d'ye think of
that?"
"It's a reg'lar hum-dinger, Joe," said one man, and the others concurred
in the laudatory opinion.
But at the first sentence to Larkin, that young man upset their well-laid
plans.
"Larkin," said Joe, "we allow as how we'd like to make a bargain with
yuh?"
"If you are going to bargain with me to break the law, you had better not
say anything about it," was the reply.
"I was jest about startin' one of them mutual protective, benefit and
literary sassieties," suggested Joe tactfully as a feeler, while his
comrades grinned.
"Don't want to hear about it," retorted Bud, divining the intention. "You
can do anything you like with me, but don't tell me your bargains. I've
got troubles enough with my sheep without signing on any more. Now, look
here, men, I don't want to interfere with you, and it only wastes your
time to bother with me. Suppose you let me go about my business and you go
about yours."
"Swear on oath never to recognize or bear witness against us?"
"No. What kind of a crook do you think I am? If I were put under oath by a
sheriff, I would have to accuse you, and I'd do it."
Joe Parker's face lost its expression of genial amiability and he looked
about on a circle of dark countenances.
"I'm plumb sorry you act this-a-way," he said aggrievedly. "Boys, where's
the nearest tree?"
"Ten miles."
"After dinner everybody saddle up," came the order.