WHOM THE GODS WOULD DESTROY
In Gunsight, Dailey rubbed his eyes and cursed the slowness of his
breakfast fire, and then padded in his stocking feet to the window
and looked out in time to see a black horse go past with a reach
and swinging smoothness which brought an appreciative glow into his
blinking eyes. The rider sat his saddle with a supple grace and
erectness which harmonized with the beautiful leg action of his mount.
"He ain't stoppin'," muttered Dailey. "Must 'a' been up to Juniper. I'm
sayin' again that if that pack of coyotes lets him start ahead of 'em
out of rifle range, there ain't nobody from down here as will ever get
close enough to see him again. There's mebby purtier things on earth
than a hoss like that, but I'm admittin' I never saw 'em. Cuss that
fire--it's smokin' again!"
The Doc heard the rhythmic beat pass his shack, muttered drowsily, and
turned over to go to sleep again. "Hope it's that Smitty, blast him!"
and his snores grew steadily louder.
Leaving the Double X quite some time before daylight. Pepper had been
sent over the upper trail, which joined the Juniper trail north of
town. Now she spurned the Highbank-Gunsight road beneath her flying
hoofs with an eagerness and power that belittled the twenty-five miles
she already had put behind her.
Johnny stroked the satin skin under which the powerful muscles of her
sloping shoulders rippled and bunched, and pride surged through him.
"I used to think Hoppy's Red Eagle, an' Red's Ginger was th' real
thing in hossflesh," he told her, "but they was cows compared to you,
Pepper Girl. There ain't nothin' on four laigs has any right to look at
you--an' some few on two laigs, too." Swinging around the hill where
Green Valley met the trail he patted her again. "There they are, little
hoss, ridin' off to comb th' range. See that tied-in pinto Slim's
a-ridin'? Show it what runnin' is--I want to talk to him."
Slim glanced around, drew rein and had a brief argument with the pinto,
which did not like Slim, or his habit of stopping suddenly. "Changed
yore mind?" he asked, smiling.
"In quite some ways," replied Johnny, forthwith explaining the
situation in terse sentences. Slim's mouth opened and forgot to close
until his groping mind at last mastered what his ears fed to it, when
the mouth opened wider and gave vent to loud, sustaining laughter.
Finally subsiding, he demanded the story in detail, but Johnny wheeled
around.
"I'm warnin' you, not amusin' you, you human rope," retorted Johnny.
"If Wolf comes back he'll mebby come a-shootin'--pass th' word along."
Slim shoved his hat well back on his head and jammed his gloved hands
against his sides. "Th' h--l he will!" he rejoined. "Let him, then. He
ain't th' only man out here as packs a gun; I mebby got one, myself.
Havin' been kindly warned, now I'm all ready to be amused. Tell it
slow. If you can't talk it, sing it. Wait! Here comes Cimarron."
The round-up boss rode up wearing a grin, in sympathy with Slim's
far-reaching guffaws. "What's th' scandal?" he demanded.
"Th' cussedest thing you ever heard," laughed Slim, putting his hand on
Pepper's bridle. "Nelson is in a hurry to go somewhere, but he's got to
give us all of it now that he's whetted my appetite with th' mustard."
"I want to get to town an' give Wolf his chance," objected Johnny.
"If he's achin' to smoke up he'll come here, won't he?" demanded Slim.
"This is th' place to wait for him--right here."
"All of which I admits is interestin'," said Cimarron; "but what is it
all about?"
"Slow now," prompted Slim. He looked around. "Would you listen to that
dickey bird up on th' hill?" he asked.
The dickey bird was Larry Hallock, whose voice barely reached them.
"What do you reckon yo're doin'?" demanded Larry, but in far different
language. "Gettin' married?" Further inquiries not receiving the
attention he felt they were entitled to, he suspected trouble and made
haste to get where he could hear about it. "Hello, Nelson!" he smiled
as he joined them. "Lookin' for Two-Spot?"
"No; where is he?" demanded Johnny.
"I reckon he's downin' liquor in Dave's about now," answered Cimarron.
"He's been raisin' th' devil for a drink which he didn't get. Slim,
th' fool, owns up that he gave him a dollar last night--an' when we
woke up this mornin' our tally man had disappeared. But that ain't
tellin' me what Slim was hee-hawin' about, or about Wolf."
"Slow, an' deliberate, with everythin' in," chuckled Slim. "Go ahead."
Johnny complied, to their hilarious enjoyment, and when the tale was
ended, Slim wiped his eyes, pointed out over the range, and said: "You
can stay right here an' do somethin' worth while. Not one man in a
thousand would come back with that pinned on his shirt tail--an' I'm
sayin' Wolf ain't that man. He blames th' Double X--an' there's _only_
twelve of us. He's shore about four bein' in town that night, but I
ain't lettin' my modesty stop me from sayin' that, barrin' Cimarron
here, he knows that th' four who was there are th' best six-gun men on
our ranch; an' that we ain't takin' lessons from nobody when it comes
to throwin' lead. He might get one of us, mebby two, an' I'll stretch
h--l out of that word probability an' say he might get three; but he
won't get us all, an' he knows it. But worse than shootin' it out is
what he'll have to face; an' he hates ridicule worse than a rattler
hates a king snake. You ain't goin' to set in Dave's, takin' it easy,
while we're sweatin' out here--I got a nice little place where you'll
fit in an' stop th' gaps that Larry is allus leavin' open."
"Gaps!" snorted Larry, indignantly. "Trouble is, you drive 'em so hard
they gets stubborn an' go on th' prod. Anybody'd think you never saw a
cow before, th' way you acts. You ought to know you can't crowd 'em
too hard."
Cimarron cogitated. "If yo're aimin' to meet with Wolf, Nelson," he
said, judicially, "I reckon you'd do better to stay here. He ain't
got no reason to want anybody in town--nobody there has done anythin'
to him. An' he knows none of us boys hang out there, except once in a
while. What's more, he ain't likely to want to face Gunsight till he's
squared up for his kidnappin'. As to him comin' back, I ain't nowise
shore he won't. Some fellers are so full of th' idea of revenge that
everythin' else plays second fiddle when they go on th' prod. They go
fair mad an' don't care about nothin' else. Wolf's bad--bad as a mad
rattler. I figger this is th' place for you. I'm sayin' this, too: If
Slim had worked that razzle on him I wouldn't take a hand; but, knowin'
Slim didn't, if that venomous reptile comes tearin' around here with
his guns cocked, I'll just nat'rally puncture him at long range with my
Remington. I ain't sympathizin' with no man that shoots till he knows
why he's doin' it."
"Stay here till this afternoon, anyhow," said Slim. "We'll be needin'
our tally man before night, an' you can ride to town, look around, an'
bring Two-Spot back with you. I'm sayin' Wolf won't come back--I'm
cussed shore _I_ wouldn't in his place."
"Shore," endorsed Larry. "Turn yore cayuse loose an' get one from
Arch--take that bay gelding--he's near human at this kind of work.
Anyhow, he's got more sense than Slim."
* * * * *
Dawn in Highbank found a sobered Wolf, unarmed, penniless, and hectic,
with a steadily growing rage. He went to place after place in search
of a horse, finally borrowing one from a saloon-keeper who knew the
foreman of the Bar H. Promising to use the animal only as far as the
ranch, and to send it back behind the freight wagon, he threw the
saddle on it and then rode around in search of a gun. Knowing about
the joke, and feeling the man's murderous rage, no one would lend him
a weapon. He had about decided to leave without one when he chanced
to pass the small horse corral and shed behind Pete Wiggins' hotel,
and espied a sodden figure asleep against the palings. Stealing the
puncher's gun he rode away and in a few minutes was cursing the ford,
of which a few yards was swimming water. Emerging on the other bank he
pushed up the bluff trail at a walk and then, reaching level ground,
set off for his ranch at a pace which might have killed a poorer horse.
As he rode, his mind became clearer and clearer, and he began to
unravel the tangled skein of his abduction. Like his kind who,
accustomed to hours of solitude, often talked their thoughts, he did
his thinking aloud.
"Double X, says Buffalo. Mebby. First we'll accuse everybody else in
town. Dave?" he laughed sneeringly at the thought. "Dailey? Fanning?
Jerry? George? Why them? They ain't th' kind to stack up ag'in' such
a risk for th' fun of it; an' they ain't none of 'em got any other
reason. Dailey an' Fanning was in Dave's all evenin'--they never
left th' table. Jerry was snoring in his shop when I went around th'
buildin's, an' he wouldn't dare try to kidnap a blind pup. George is
another without nerve, an' he was snorin' worse than Jerry. Nelson? He
was with th' others. Mebby he did it, but I'm thinkin' there was more'n
one man mixed up in that. If my senses hadn't been knocked out of me
I'd know more about it. We'll put him aside as a possibility.
"Them Double X coyotes ain't lovin' me, 'specially since I've been
ridin' sign along their line. There was four of 'em, an' they was all
primed for a good time; an' from what I heard 'em say about th' Doc
an' Squint an' me an' th' rest of our outfit, they wasn't needin' much
urgin' to tackle a job like that. But they was in Dave's too; still,
they left before I did.
"That leaves my own gang of practical jokers. They knowed that I was in
town, but they didn't know I was goin' to ride home that night because
I didn't know it myself. They might 'a' done it, but I'll find that out
cussed quick when I get back.
"Who else was there? Dailey, Fanning, Jerry, Dave, Nelson--_Two-Spot!_
He wasn't in sight at all. Dave was raisin' th' roof about him not
bein' around. But h--l! Twenty Two-Spots wouldn't 'a' tackled a play
like that; an' he couldn't sling a rope, nor carry a man as heavy as
me _that_ distance. Slim can rope--he's the best down here. I don't
remember much about it till I was put down near th' waggin; but I'm
shore that th' man that throwed that rope was an expert.
"Two-Spot? I don't see how he could fit in--_cuss him!_ I got it!
Somebody must 'a' seen me movin' 'round or else nobody would 'a' knowed
I was in town. None of them fellers could 'a' seen me; but Two-Spot
could have. Whoever did that job had to be told I was there; an' I'm
sayin' they _was_ told. That bum hates me; he'll never forget my
kickin' him off'n th' tie-rail an' makin' him dance th' tenderfoot's
fandango. I'm goin' to see Two-Spot after I stop at th' ranch--an' if
he don't talk fast and straight, he'll dance to h--l this time!"
It was not yet noon when Wolf swept up to his bunkhouse and rode in
through the door, leaning forward in the saddle to clear the rafters,
his gun freezing Big Tom and Dick Carson as stiff as statues.
"Don't you move till I says so!" he snarled. "Who was in town th' night
Buffalo stopped there on his way home? Think quick; an' talk straight!"
"What are you doin'? Goin' _loco_?" demanded the foreman. He stopped in
his tracks when he saw the look on his puncher's face.
"I'm askin' th' questions!" snapped Wolf, his rage climbing anew. "You
answer 'em, an' _pronto_! Who was there that night?"
"Don't know; but none of our boys was."
"Nobody left here at all that night?" demanded Wolf.
"Not one."
"How do you know? That was near a week ago. How do you know they was
all here?"
"That was th' first night you went on Nelson's trail," answered the
foreman somewhat angrily. "I told them to stay home, an' give you
plenty of room. They did it."
"I reckon they was glad to do it," sneered Wolf. "Coyotes don't go
cougar hunting less'n th' pack is big."
"They might as well stay home as go on a drunk in Highbank," retorted
Big Tom, coldly.
For a moment Wolf was balanced on a narrow edge, but controlled himself
because of genuine liking for his foreman. "Don't you ever come that
close again," he said, almost in a whisper. "Do you know _why_ I went
to Highbank? You ought to, for I reckon everybody does by _this_ time,"
he grated.
"I'm listenin' to you," answered Big Tom. "I don't know _why_ you went."
Wolf dismounted, drove the horse out of the house, and paced up and
down the long room in a frenzy of energy.
"I was roped off my cayuse ridin' home that night. I must 'a' fell on
my head, for I don't know nothin' about it till I got to town. When I
came to my senses I was bound, blindfolded, an' gagged, an' my head was
spinnin' an' near bustin' with pain. I was dumped into Buffalo's wagon,
pushed in among a load of hides, an' staked out so I couldn't move. All
that day I lay there under that tarp, joltin' over that long trail,
near faintin' with th' pain of th' lashin's an' th' gag, swelterin' in
th' heat an' stink, sick with th' pain in my head, parched an' burnin'
with thirst, ragin' with my thoughts, mile after mile. There was times
I must 'a' lost consciousness; but I can remember a-plenty!
"Down in Highbank I was hauled out by a gang of cacklin' sage hens who
thought it was a joke. If I'd had a gun an' could 'a' used it, I'd 'a'
showed 'em what kind of a joke it was!" He flew into a burst of rage
which awed his companions, and he nearly wrecked the room before he
subsided, his words one quivering stream of profanity. "An' what have
I got to face?" he shouted. "What have I got to live down? I'll be th'
laughin' stock of this whole country till I die, an' after! But I can
show 'em that it costs somethin' to make a fool of Wolf Forbes; an' I
will, if I dies for it! I want a six-gun, an' a rifle, an' yore pet
hoss. I'm ridin' to town to see th' one man who can tell me where to
start, an' I'm ridin' alone."
"Think it was Nelson?" asked Carson.
"Mebby; but I'm not sayin' till I know," snapped Wolf, pacing again.
"I'm askin' you: Do you figger ropin' an' kidnappin' Wolf Forbes was
any one-man job? Is there any man in this country that would tackle
that job, alone, for th' fun of it? Yo're right. I says not, too. An'
if he didn't do it for th' fun of it, would he 'a' dared tackle it, at
all? What I mean is, if he did it to get rid of me, wouldn't he 'a'
killed me from that ambush. I'm tellin' you he'd 'a' figgered it would
be a lot safer to shoot me, for there wouldn't be th' risk at th' time,
an' th' dead shore danger of th' comeback. One man, alone, would 'a'
shot; three or four might 'a' took a chance with th' rope. I'm ridin'
to town to learn for shore; an' I'm ridin' now. Carson, saddle me that
hoss, while I get th' guns I want. Gimme a drink of yore flask, Tom."
"You shore you want it?"
"Gimme a drink. I know what I want."
In a few minutes he rode north at a dead run, headed for the
over-mountain trail, and it was not until he was gone that the foreman
realized that he had not told his puncher a word about the events which
had taken place during his absence.
Wolf crossed the mountain, turned to the left, and went around Gunsight
on the west, heading back toward town to approach it on its blind side.
He rode up behind the hotel shed, dismounted and crept along it, and
as he passed a crack in the warped boards his eye caught a movement,
and he stopped to peer through the crack. Two-Spot was crawling out
from under the saloon. Arising to his feet, the tramp looked carefully
around for signs of any of Cimarron's outfit who might have come after
him, and then slipped through Dave's rear door.
The watcher stiffened, and a sudden thought sent his rage up to the
border line of madness. Two-Spot's mysterious sleeping quarters were
no longer a mystery to him. His eyes swept the side of the saloon, and
the narrow space between its foundation sills and the ground. This
open space ran along three sides of the building and he knew that a
man under the floor could see the feet and ankles of anyone who passed
along the building. Returning to his horse he mounted and rode off the
way he had come, careful to keep the shed between him and Dave's rear
wall. Reaching an arroyo, he dropped into it and followed it until far
enough from town, and then, keeping under the cover of hills and brush,
he emerged upon the trail and loped along it into Gunsight. Dismounting
in front of Dailey's, he walked swiftly and quietly toward Dave's,
bending low to keep under the two front windows, and paused at the door
to listen.
"He! He! He!" shrilled Two-Spot, warming to the liquor he had taken.
"I'd 'a' liked to died when Jerry told about him. I could smell them
hides before they turned th' corner of th' hotel that night. They was
so odorous they near made me sick. An' if he went into 'em a Wolf, I'm
sayin' he come out a Polecat; this range never will forget it. He can't
never live it down--never! An' Jerry's tellin' it all along th' way,
too. I'm wonderin' if he'll come back."
Dailey laughed sarcastically. "I'm bettin' he won't. _No_ man would."
"I'm shore _I_ wouldn't," chuckled Fanning. "I'd ship off to South
Americky, _pronto_--an' I wouldn't care what happened to th' ship while
I was on it, neither."
"I'll take three to one he _does_ come back," said Dave.
"Is twenty dollars too much?" asked Dailey.
"Twenty to my seven suits me," replied Dave. "I'll take th' same from
Jim, too."
"Yo're on," chuckled Dailey.
"Me, too," replied Fanning.
A man slipped through the door, a gun in each hand. "Dave wins!" he
snarled. "Keep 'em both on th' bar!" he snapped at Dave, who forthwith
forgot, for the moment, all about the cap-and-ball. The little group
in front of the bar stiffened into whatever postures they had been
caught in, their eyes on the muzzles of the steady guns. Death hung
poised on Wolf's thumbs like a hawk balanced in the blue, ready to
strike. The only sounds in the room were the hushed breathing of four
men facing destruction for the slightest slip, the insistent buzzing of
a bee cruising across the ceiling and the soft _slip!_ _slip!_ of the
gunman's feet as he slid them forward a few inches at a time. His face
was ghastly and working with rage, his power concentrated in his dull,
threatening weapons. He jabbed one of them at Two-Spot.
"Step over there, on th' end!" he snapped. "I'll shoot at th' first
move," he warned them all, feeling the hostility which he faced.
Three of them were armed and needed only an instant's carelessness or
indecision on his part to prove that their courage was only held in
leash by calculating reason. "Not a move, cuss you!" he warned, his
eyes not for a moment leaving the three armed men. Dailey's face was
tense, but his body had slouched into a relaxation, the danger of which
was well known to Wolf. Fanning's eyes were glinting and his lips were
hard and thin, while enmity peered out of his eyes as though it were
a living thing. Dave, his face paling after the redness of his first
flush of anger, stood as a cat stands in the presence of a foe. Not for
a fleeting instant did Wolf dare to take his eyes from this crouched
danger.
"You'd 'a' done better if you hadn't come back," said Dave, quietly,
but the timbre of his voice sent a chill up Two-Spot's spine.
"Don't move yore paws," snarled Wolf. "Two-Spot, come over here, by th'
bar."
Two-Spot obeyed, sullen and fearful, taking a place which shortened the
arc of danger for Wolf.
"Where was you that night?" demanded the gunman.
Two-Spot stared at him and tried to moisten his throat.
"Where was you?" snapped Wolf, venomously. "Talk fast!"
"I don't remember," answered Two-Spot.
"You was in yore hang-out under this floor," accused Wolf. "Did you see
me?"
"It was too dark," answered the tramp, flashing an appealing look at
Dave, whose face was growing red again.
"Not with th' light streamin' out of them side windows! Who did you
tell?"
"I didn't see you."
"Who did you tell? Th' Double X?"
"No; it was too dark."
Warned by a premonition of impending disaster, and feeling that they
were unawed, and restrained only by reason, Wolf ordered the three
armed men to turn their backs to him, which they did with a slowness
which in itself was an insult. He took the guns of Dailey and Fanning
and ordered Dave to come out and join them. Dave took time enough to
keep his dignity unsmirched. Free from the necessity of keeping a
high-tension vigilance, Wolf walked up to Two-Spot and struck him on
the face with the heel of his hand.
"Did you tell th' Double X?" he demanded. "D--n you, answer me!"
"No," whispered Two-Spot, and in his bleared eyes there smouldered the
sparks of a fire long dormant.
"Did you tell Nelson? Quick!"
Dailey and Fanning hung on the slow answer, for they remembered that
little incident with startling clearness.
"No!" snarled Two-Spot.
Wolf kicked him on the shins and, dropping one gun into its sheath,
grabbed the skinny throat, gripping it cruelly. "Who did you tell?" he
growled, shaking his victim, and quivering with rage at such resistance
where he had expected to encounter none.
Some ghost of a former stalwart courage, shaken awake by desperation
and rage, came back to its forsaken habitation and spoke through a
mouthpiece for too long a stranger to it. Two-Spot tried to speak and
Wolf, a gleam of triumph burning through the madness in his eyes,
loosened his grip and stepped back.
The voice which answered him was not Two-Spot's, although it came
through his lips. It was level, cold, self-possessed, and biting. "You
ask somebody who's a-scared of you, you three-card flush. An' keep yore
paws off'n me--they stink of hides an' maggots."
The crashing roar sounded like a thunderbolt and the acrid cloud of
smoke swept forward and shrouded the falling man. Wolf leaped back,
out of it, and stopped the instinctive advance of the horrified and
enraged onlookers, who had turned at the shot, his two guns barely
sufficient for the task. Dave's expression took his instant attention
and he snapped a warning, venomous as the jet from a copperhead's
fangs: "Don't you try it, Green!" He flashed a look at the other two,
and nearly fired in instinctive answer to the malevolent looks in their
eyes.
"Anybody that itches to take this up will get their chance: I'll be
back!" he promised, and retreated swiftly to the door. Shoving his guns
forward in a silent, final warning, he slipped from their sight and
dashed for his horse, firing several shots behind him past the windows
and door. Leaping into the saddle, he wheeled around the store and rode
at a dead run for the cover of an arroyo several hundred yards beyond.
Dave started toward his bedroom for the rifle hanging on the wall,
reconsidered and looked at the huddled heap on the floor. "We'll take
care of th' best man first," he said, picking up the limp figure and
carrying it to the base of the front wall. Getting a blanket, he went
back again, and as he stood up he drew a deep breath and faced his
companions, a look almost reverent coming to his face and softening the
malignancy of its expression.
"He died like a man--I hope I do as good. Let's liquor."
* * * * *
The afternoon shadows were beginning to lengthen when the low voices
in the saloon ceased to allow the speakers to catch the sounds of a
horse coming up the trail. Dave, moving with surprising celerity for
one of his build and habits, grabbed a rifle and hastened to the front
window, where he peered out cautiously, and then, walking to the bar,
he reached over it, stood the weapon behind it, and replied to the
unspoken inquiries of his companions.
"It's Nelson," he said, quietly.
The hoofbeats ceased abruptly and Johnny's voice was heard promising
the horse some sugar. He entered and strode straight for the bar,
nodding cheerily at the three, and then smiled quizzically.
"You shore look glum," he remarked, "glum as a funeral. Come up an'
take somethin' for it. Well, th' SV is bein' cleaned neat an' proper.
Cimarron knows his business, an' that crew of his is goin' at full
speed. I come in to get Two-Spot. They're needin' a tally man, an' he
ought to go through with it. Seen him around, or is he hidin' out,
layin' low?"
"He's layin' low," replied Dave.
Johnny looked at him curiously, puzzled by the proprietor's manner.
"Meanin'?"
"He's dead," said Dailey, bluntly, staring fixedly at the front wall.
Johnny flashed him a glance and looked back at Dave, who nodded
significantly at the front of the room. Johnny turned quickly and
followed the other's stare. He straightened and walked slowly to the
blanket, drew it back a little and then replaced it with reverent care.
Arising to his full height, he turned and looked at them. The silence
was oppressive, crowded with potentials. They could feel a tension
which fairly crackled, and which made them shrink, guiltless though
they were. The erect figure radiated a ferocity which numbed them and
caused Fanning to lick his dry lips. Overhead the bee, which had buzzed
monotonously for so long a time, increased its buzzing and bounced
from point to point, its wings striking the ceiling with a dry whirring
not greatly unlike the angry whir of a rattler. From an unrinsed glass
on the bar came a buzzing from drunken flies renewing their efforts to
escape from it. The measured breathing of four men sounded loud and
unnatural, and from Dailey's forehead rolled a bead of sweat. They
stared at the cold, motionless puncher, fascinated by what emanated
from him, unable to look away from the glinting eyes which peered out
between narrowed lids at each in turn, and back again. Outside a horse
pawed restlessly and the intermittent sound of striking metal reminded
them of the slow pealing of a bell. A board cracked suddenly as it
contracted from the encroachment of a cooling shadow and sent a shiver
up their backs. Fanning's nerves were on edge and seemed about to snap,
and his clenching fingers cut into his palms. He suddenly slumped down
into his chair.
"It was _Wolf_!" he shouted. "Two-Spot wouldn't tell!"
The others sat rigid, not heeding the words.
Slowly the puncher's hand went to his sombrero and slowly readjusted
it with deliberate care and precision. He turned slowly, and slowly
departed, the sound of the diminishing hoofbeats echoing in their
brains long after the sound had ceased. The unrinsed glass became
quiet, the bee blundered out through an open window, and a great peace,
soothing and enfolding, stole over them. Fanning stirred, arose to his
feet, and stumbled toward the door.
"Christ!" he whispered.
"Amen," said Dave. "Death's flyin' low."
* * * * *
The Bar H outfit, loafing near the bunkhouse, were deep in discussion
when they heard a horse. Looking up, they saw Johnny Nelson coming
toward them at an amble. He nodded gravely and soon stopped near them.
Carelessly throwing the reins over Pepper's head, he lazily swung down,
pushed his hat back on his head, and sauntered up to them, stopping
when only an arm's length away, Wolf stirring restlessly and not taking
his eyes from the visitor's face.
"Two-Spot was my friend," said Johnny in a matter-of-fact voice.
Wolf's slouching frame shifted slightly and froze.
"He never went heeled," continued Johnny's even, dispassionate voice.
The open palm of his right hand struck Wolf's face with vicious force.
There came two roars which sounded almost as one, and Johnny, leaping
pantherishly aside out of the rolling smoke, held two guns on the
paralyzed group.
"Wolf shot him," he explained, backing away behind his ominous guns.
He whistled softly, and Pepper, despite the dangling reins, lifted her
head high and came to him.
Big Tom recovered himself first and took his eyes from the figure
sprawled on the ground. He was beginning to believe them. He glanced
at Johnny and back to the prostrate figure. It was incredible that a
man with Wolf's courage, and ability with weapons, should shoot down an
old, helpless tramp, whose greatest offense could hardly be more than
a verbal one, especially against a two-gun killer. Bad as he was, and
hardened, the foreman could not stomach such a murder, and, snapping
a warning to his companions, who still stared at what had been Wolf
Forbes, he looked at Johnny, who was preparing to mount, and he called
out in a voice ringing with sincerity: "Put 'em up, Nelson; an' ride
off. I'll knock th' man down that pulls a gun!"
Johnny slipped the guns into their sheaths, swung up into the saddle,
wheeled, and pushed Pepper at a lope over the trail toward town without
a single backward glance.
Big Tom watched him for a moment and then wheeled and glanced down
at the ground. "_Wolf_, huh? All right." He turned to the thoughtful
group. "Dig a hole somewhere out on th' range an' dump that into it,"
he said contemptuously, and strode toward the ranchhouse.