Thank Heaven it was just noon! Judith sprang to her feet, her eyes
bright and hard, and ran down to the men's quarters. Coming up from
the corral were Carson and Bud Lee.
"Miller with the pay-roll money has been held up and robbed at Squaw
Creek," she told them swiftly. "Get some men together, Carson, and try
to head the robber off."
The two men, having glanced quickly at each other, stood a moment
looking at her curiously.
"That's on the level, is it, Miss Judith?" demanded Carson slowly.
"Of course it's on the level!" she cried impatiently. "Oh, I know what
you're thinking. I'm going to phone immediately to the bank at Rocky
Bend and have another man sent out with more money. You can count upon
getting your pay at six o'clock!"
"I told you, didn't I," muttered Carson, "that I wasn't worrying none
personal? But if I was you I'd sure have the money on tap!"
With that he left her, going hastily to round up what men he could find
and get them into their saddles. Bud Lee, his eyes still on her, stood
where he was.
"Well," demanded the girl, "aren't you going, too?" Suddenly angered
by his leisurely air, she added cuttingly: "Not afraid, are you?"
"I was thinking," Lee answered coolly, "that the stick-up gent will
most probably figure on a play like that. If he was real wise he'd
mosey along toward Rocky Bend and pop off your second man. Two
thousand bucks a day would make a real nice little draw."
Judith paused, frowning. There was truth in that. If Trevors really
were behind this, he would have chosen his man carefully; he would have
planned ahead.
"If you'll do my way," continued Lee thoughtfully, "I'll have just
enough time to roll a smoke and saddle little old Climax. He's in the
stable now. You're not afraid of my double-crossing you? Even if a
smart-headed man had planned the hold-up he wouldn't figure on a play
like this. He'd think we'd have a Rocky Bender bring it out or else
wait until to-morrow."
"It won't do," she decided quickly. "I want that money here at six
o'clock."
"Eighty miles," mused the horse foreman. "Six hours. That's riding
right along, but do it my way and I'll gamble you my own string of
horses--and they're worth considerable more than a thousand--that I'll
be back, heeled, at six."
Judith, quick at decisions, looked him hard in the eye, heard his plan,
and three minutes later Bud Lee, a revolver in his shirt, rode away
from the ranch-house, headed toward Rocky Bend. Judith already had
called up Tripp, and the veterinarian himself, leading the fastest
saddle-horse he could get his hands on at brief notice, was also riding
toward Rocky Bend, from the Lower End, five miles in advance of Lee at
the start. He went at a gentle trot, consulting his watch now and then.
So Bud Lee, riding as once those hard, dare-devil riders rode who
carried across the land the mail-bag of the Pony Express, overtook Doc
Tripp and changed to a fresh horse at the end of the first fifteen
miles. He swung out of his saddle, stretched his long legs, remarked
lightly that it was a real fine day, and was gone again upon a fresh
mount with twenty-five miles between him and Rocky Bend. The clock at
the bank marked forty-three minutes after two as Lee, leaving a
sweating horse at the door on Main Street, presented his check at the
paying teller's window. The money, in a small canvas bag, was ready.
"Hello, Bud," and "Hello, Dan'l," was the beginning and end of the
conversation which ensued. Lee did not stop to count the money. He
drew his belt up a hole as he went back to the door, found a fresh
horse there fighting its bit and all but lifting the stable-boy off his
feet, mounted and sped back along Main Street.
Judith was to send out another man leading still another fresh horse
for him so that he could not fail to be back at the ranch-house by six
o'clock. As Bud Lee, riding hard but never without thought for the
horse which carried him, began the return trip, he drew the heavy
caliber revolver from his shirt and thrust it into his belt. When he
had left Rocky Bend half a dozen miles behind him and was hurrying on
into the outskirts of that country of rolling hills and pine forests,
his hand was never six inches from the gun-butt.
The road wound in and out among the pines, always climbing. Lee raced
on, his eyes bright and keen, watchful and suspicious of every still
shadow or stirring branch. Coming up the two-mile-long Cuesta Grade,
he saved his horse a little. From the top of the mountain, before he
again followed a winding road back to the river's side, he saw a
horseman riding a distant ridge; the glinted upon the rider's rifle.
"Old Carson himself," thought Lee. "Looking for the hold-up man.
Shucks! They'll never find him this trip."
Letting his own animal out into its swinging stride as he got down to
more level going, he hammered on at his clip of fifteen miles an hour.
In the thick shade of the forest, three miles before he came to the
line fence of the Blue Lake ranch, he saw another horseman, this one Ed
Masters, the "college kid." The young fellow's flushed, eager face
passed in a blur as Lee shot by.
Another mile, and Bud Lee was riding through a clearing, with the tall
cliffs of Squaw Creek cañon looming high on his left, when suddenly and
absolutely without warning, his horse screamed, gathered itself for a
wild plunge, staggered, stood a moment trembling terribly, then with a
low moan collapsed under him.
Lee swung out and to one side, landing clear as the big brute fell. He
did not understand. He had ridden the animal hard but certainly not
hard enough for this. And then he saw and his eyes blazed with anger.
He had heard no shot, nothing beyond the metallic pounding of the shod
hoofs on flinty road, but there from an ugly hole in the neck the
saddle-horse was pouring out its blood.
"Smokeless powder and a Maxim silencer!" muttered Lee, his eyes taking
note of the ten thousand possible hiding-places on the cliff's.
In his ears there was a little whine as a second bullet sang its way by
his head. Again he sought to locate the marksman, again saw nothing
but crag and precipice and brushy clump. He took time for that thing
which came so hard to him, sent a bullet from his own revolver into his
horse's brain, and then slipped out of the clearing into the shelter of
the pines.
"Two miles left to the border line," he estimated it. "Afoot."
Stiff from the saddle, he moved on slowly for a little. But as his
muscles responded and warmed to the effort, he broke into a trotting
run. Only a little now could he keep under cover; if he went on with
any degree of speed he must keep to the road and the open. The thought
came to him that he might lie under cover until dark. The second
thought came to him that he had assured Judith that he would be back on
time, and he forged ahead.
For the second time that day he heard the whine of a bullet. He
thought that the shot came from the cliffs just at the head of Squaw
Creek cañon. But he could not be sure. There was ample protection
there for a man hiding, tall brush in a hollow and three or four
stunted trees, wind-twisted. He'd make the climb to-morrow and see
about it. Now he'd keep right on moving. Little used to travelling
save on a horse's back he was shot through with odd little pains when
at last he came to the border-line fenced and the waiting horse. Tommy
Burkitt held it for him while Lee mounted.
"Somebody up on the cliffs, head of the cañon," panted Lee at Tommy's
amazed expression when Lee came running into sight. "Killed my horse.
Go after him, Tommy. Tell the other boys." And on he went, pounding
out the last fifteen miles, the canvas bag beating safely against his
side.
Judith, in the courtyard, watched him ride in. She looked swiftly at
him from the watch on her wrist. Her eyes brightened. It lacked seven
minutes to six. As Bud dropped the canvas bag into her hands she
flashed at him the most wonderful, radiant smile that the long horseman
had ever seen. She gripped his lean, brown hand hard in hers.
"Bud, you're a brick!" she cried.
Mrs. Langworthy had just come out with Hampton, Trevors, and the major.
Judith turned from Lee to Trevors but managed to keep half an eye on
Mrs. Langworthy.
"You see, it's pay-day with us, Mr. Trevors," she said quietly. "And
when pay-day comes we pay our men at six o'clock in spite of hell and
high water!"
Bud Lee, leading his horse away, turned for a word. "A man killed a
horse for me to-day," he said very gently, and his eyes rested steadily
upon Trevors. "If I ever get him, or the man who put him up to it, I'm
going to get him right."