PURSUED
"What you reckon that means, Ike?" questioned Slim Jim.
"Doggoned if I know. Looks like somebody had preëmpted our claim, don't
it?"
"Somethin' like that," agreed the other.
"Are you two guys supposed to have a claim on this black cave?" asked
Pocus Pete as the three reined in their horses and stood looking at the
other cavalcade of riders--perhaps half a dozen--who came out of the
cavern as if aroused at the sight of the trio.
"No, we ain't got no more of a claim than anybody else," said Ike. "But
Slim an' me, we sort of found this cave when we first come to this oil
region, and we lived in it a few days when we was sort of gettin' the
lay of things. We've often been back to it between times, but never
before did we see anybody in it."
"That's right!" chimed in his friend.
"An' now there's a mob here," went on Pocus Pete. "It must mean
something."
"It does!" agreed Lazy Ike. "An' I don't like the looks of it."
"Same here," mused his pal. "An' would you look at that!" he exclaimed
as there was a movement among the horsemen at the black cave. "I'll be
darned if they ain't headin' our way!" he cried.
It was so. The six horsemen urged their steeds to a trot along the
trail toward Pocus Pete and his two friends.
"They're after us!" cried Jim.
"Sure as you're a foot high!" echoed his pal.
"What had we better do?" asked Pocus Pete as he took out his automatic.
"No, don't shoot," advised Jim. "We wouldn't stand much chance against
twice our number. Those aren't Greasers. They're some of the gang that
hangs around the Stella Dora," so he pronounced the name of the Golden
Star café. "They can shoot."
"You mean they are some of Don Castro's gang?" asked Pocus Pete.
"You got me! We'd better give 'em a run for their money."
So, turning their horses about, the three raced along the trail they
had come, while, with shouts that had anger in them, the other horsemen
took up the pursuit. A few shots rang out, the bullets whizzing
uncomfortably close to the heads of Pocus Pete and his friends.
"Ain't that jest the rottenest luck!" exclaimed Jim as he leaned over
his pony's neck to give less of a target to their enemies.
"Sure is!" agreed his pal. "I figgered on takin' it easy in that cave
for a while, an' now we got to sweat leather again. Well, I guess we
can beat 'em at that."
"They aren't catching up to us, at any rate," observed Pocus Pete. "Our
horses are fresher than theirs, I take it."
"You take it right, friend," admitted Slim Jim.
"Have you any idea where you are heading for now?" went on Pete.
For a few moments the three rode on without this question being
answered. The pursuers, though distanced at first, were still coming
on, and, though hidden by turns in the trail, the pattering of their
horses' feet could still be heard.
"Yes, where you aim to pull up, Slim?" asked Ike.
"What about the Indian's Nose?" asked Slim.
"Not bad. It's a good place to camp, an' we can see a good ways off
when anybody's comin'. How does that strike you, Pocus Pete?"
"Well, I guess," was the answer as the new cowboy urged his pinto pony
along. "I'm a stranger here. I'll have to leave it to you. But if it
means goin' among the Indians----"
"It's only a name of a mesa about twenty miles farther on," was
the answer. "It's elevated land, a fine place to camp, water an'
everything. A little game to shoot, too. An' you can look for a mile or
two each way so you can see when anybody's comin' to make trouble. What
say?"
"I say let's head there, if we can shake these fellows off," said Pocus
Pete with a look back. But the pursuers were not in sight.
"Snap into it!" called Ike, and the three rode on. But ever as they
made a turn in the trail among the hills, they could hear the men from
the black cave coming behind them. It was not until nearly noon that
they lost the sound, and then Ike said:
"Guess we can take it a bit easy now. There's two or three forks in the
road that we passed an' those fellows may have taken one."
"In that case we can let our horses rest," suggested Pocus Pete, for it
was high time they pulled rein.
They found a spring of water and with the food they had brought with
them from the Mexican farm they drank and made a meal, feeling much
better after that.
Then, as they were preparing to mount again and keep on to the Indian's
Nose, Pocus Pete arrived at a decision. He looked sharply at his two
companions and said:
"Boys, I've got something to tell you."
"Spill it," laconically advised Jim.
"I'm not a cowboy," was the next statement.
"We knowed that long ago!" chuckled Ike.
"An' as long as you ain't the sheriff, we don't give a darn!" went on
his partner.
"How'd you know I wasn't what I pretended to be?" asked Pete curiously.
"By the way I ride?"
"No, you ride pretty darn good, if you ask me," said Ike.
"It's the breaks you make in speakin' now an' again," said his
companion. "An' 'cops'! Bust me for a wall-eyed pike, soon as you said
'cops' I knowed you wasn't no cowboy--at least, not from around here.
But you don't have to tell us, mister. We ain't cravin' to know your
secret. We got some of our own."
"But I want to tell you," went on the other. "I don't like the way
things are breaking down here. And I don't like the way those men from
the black cave are coming after us. Something may happen. A stray
bullet might just clip me, and----"
"You're right there," admitted Slim Jim gravely. "So if you got
anythin' on your conscience----"
"Oh, it isn't that," and Pocus Pete laughed. "But the ends of justice
might suffer if I happened to be killed and no one knew who I was or
why I came here."
"Then you're the sheriff after all?" and Ike and his chum looked a bit
reproachfully at their companion.
"No, I'm not the sheriff, and I'm not after you fellows. I'm Nat
Ridley, a private detective from New York, and I'm down here to avenge
the murder of a fellow detective--Dan Steele!"
"By thunder!" voiced Ike vigorously.
"A detective!" gasped Slim. "Whatchu know about that!"
"And I'm on the trail of the double dagger gang--Don Castro among
them," went on Nat. "Can I count on you to help me?"
For an instant the two cowboys hesitated--but for an instant only. Then
with one voice they exclaimed:
"You sure can!" And they held out their bronzed hands.
But a moment later Ike added:
"If we're goin' to help you the best advice I can give you now is to
beat it right now!"
"Why?" asked Nat Ridley, alias Pocus Pete.
"Because them fellers are after us again!"
The others listened and heard once more the tattoo of hoof-beats.