"I KNEW HE LIED!"
Rathburn extinguished the light in the lamp, walked swiftly to the
front door, and outside. Closing the door softly he turned back up the
street. He sauntered along slowly, debating his next move. Evidently
the town was the last for many miles in the mountainous country east
and north. Westward he would come upon many towns as the country
became more and more densely populated toward the coast. Northwestward
he would be able to keep within the arm of the mountains and still be
in touch with civilization. But he would have to make some changes in
his attire and fix that brand on his horse.
Instinctively his course brought him to the big resort he had noticed
upon his arrival. The entrance doors had been closed against the chill
of the night, but he could see the interior of the place through one
of the windows despite the coating of dust upon the glass.
As he peered within he stiffened to alert attention and a light oath
escaped him. Walking swiftly from a rear door was a tall man, the
lower part of his face concealed by a black handkerchief. He held a
gun in each hand and was covering the score or more patrons of the
place who had risen from the tables, or stepped back from the bar,
with their hands held high above their heads.
"Keep 'em there an' you'll be all right," the masked man was saying in
a loud voice which carried to Rathburn through cracks in the window
glass. "Line up down there, now--you hear me? Line up!"
The patrons lined up, keeping their faces toward the bandit.
"If anybody gets to acting uneasylike it'll be the signal for me to
start shootin'--understand?" came the holdup's menacing voice as he
moved around behind the bar.
"Open both cash drawers," he ordered the servitor in the white apron.
He covered the bartender with one gun while he kept the other pointed
in the direction of the men standing in line.
Obeying instructions, the bartender took the bills from the cash
drawers and laid them before the bandit on the bar. He then made
several piles of silver near the bills, walking to and from the
drawers of the big cash register. Continuing to do as he was told, he
stuffed the bank notes and silver into the masked man's pockets, one
gun's muzzle against his breast, the other holding the men in line at
bay.
Rathburn heard footsteps on the walk close to him. He whirled and saw
two men about to enter the resort. "I wouldn't go in there," he said
sharply in a low voice.
"Eh--what's that?"
The two men paused, looking at him questioningly.
"I wouldn't go in there," Rathburn repeated. "Come here an' take a
look."
One of the men stepped to his side and peered curiously through the
window.
"Bill!" he whispered excitedly. "Look here. It's a holdup!"
The other man looked over his shoulder. He swore softly.
"I'll bet it's The Coyote!" said the first man in an awed voice.
"Probably is," said Rathburn sneeringly. "They say he was heading this
way."
"Good place to stay out of--if it's _him_," declared the second man.
Rathburn suddenly pulled back his left sleeve. "See that?" he said,
pointing to his left forearm.
The two men stared at the bared forearm in the yellow light which
shone through the dust-stained window. They saw a scar about three
inches below the elbow.
"Looks like a bullet made that," one of the men observed.
"You're right," said Rathburn, letting down his shirt sleeve. "A
bullet from The Coyote's gun left that mark."
The men looked at him wonderingly and respectfully.
"You boys live here?" asked Rathburn.
"Sure," was the reply. "We work in the Pine Knot Hotel an' stables.
You from the hills?"
"Yep," answered Rathburn. "Cow-puncher an' horseshoer an' one thing
an' another. What's he doing now?" He again turned his attention to
the scene within the resort, as did the two men with him.
The bandit was backing away from the bar toward the rear of the room,
still keeping his guns thrust out before him, menacing the men who
stood with uplifted hands.
"You can tell your funny judge that I called!" he sang out as he
reached the rear door. "An' now, gents," he continued in an excited
voice, "it won't go well with the man that tries to get out this back
way too soon."
As he ceased speaking his guns roared. The two large hanging
lamps, suspended from the ceiling in the center, went out to the
accompaniment of shattered glass crashing on the floor. The three
smaller lamps above the back bar next were cut to splinters by
bullets and the place was in total darkness.
Then there was silence, save for the sound of a horse's hoofs coming
from somewhere behind the building.
Rathburn drew back from the window as a match flared within and his
two companions moved toward the front door. He stole around the corner
of the building and started on a run for the rear. He stopped when he
heard a horse galloping toward the east end of the street behind the
buildings which lined that side. He hurried behind two buildings which
did not extend as far as the resort and hastened up the street. He did
not once look back.
Behind him he heard shouts and men running in the street. He increased
his pace until he was running swiftly for the trees where he had left
his horse. From above he caught the dying echoes of hoofs flying on
the trail up the foothills by which he had come early that night.
The cries down the street increased, a gun barked, and bullets whined
over his head.
"The locoed fools!" he panted. "Didn't they hear that fellow ride
away?"
But the shooting evidently was of a promiscuous nature, for he heard
more shots around by the rear of the place where the robbery had been
committed. No more bullets were fired in his direction as he darted
into the black shadows of the trees.
He quickly untied his horse, mounted, rode in the shelter of the
timber to the east trail, and began the ascent, urging his horse to
its fastest walking gait up the hard trail. The fleeing bandit's
sounds of retreat no longer came to his ears, but he kept on, scanning
the open stretches of trail above in the starlight, a disparaging
smile playing upon his lips.
Back in the little town excitement was at a high pitch. Extra lamps
had been lighted in the resort where a big crowd had gathered. Several
men ran to the office of Judson Brown, justice of the peace, while
others went in search of the constable.
When Brown failed to answer the summons at his door, some one
discovered it was not locked, and the little group of men trooped in
to find the justice gagged and handcuffed to his bed. They lighted the
lamp and removed the gag. Then acting upon his instructions they took
a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs.
He stood, boiling with rage, while they alternately hurled questions
at him and told him of the holdup.
He ignored their questions as to how he came to be bound and gagged
and demanded more details of the robbery.
"We took him to be The Coyote," said the spokesman of the group. He
had been one of the men the bandit had lined up. "He was tall, an'
blue or gray eyes, an'----"
"A puncher from up north picked him out through the window," spoke up
one of the men who had encountered Rathburn outside the resort. "He'd
been shot in the forearm by him once--showed us the scar. The robber
was The Coyote, all right."
"Certainly it was him!" roared Brown. "He came in here, tied me up
after pulling a gun on me, an' threatening to kill me, practically, so
he wouldn't have any trouble pulling his trick. Tried to steer me off
by saying he didn't come here to make any trouble. I knew he lied!"
The constable came in as the justice was finishing his irate speech.
"I'm going to lead this chase myself!" cried Brown. "I want The
Coyote, and I'm going to get him. I raise that reward to a thousand on
the spot, and I know the sheriff will back me up. Get out every man in
town that can stick on a horse, and we'll catch him if we have to comb
the hills and desert country till doomsday!"
Already horsemen were gathering in the street outside. Feeling was
high, for Dry Lake prided itself on its record of freedom from the
molestation of outlaws. The rough element, too, was strong for a man
hunt, or anything, for that matter, promising excitement.
A quarter of an hour later Brown, who was accepted as the leader when
emergencies involving the law arose, distributed his forces. He sent
two posses of twenty men each north and northwest. A third posse of a
dozen men started southward. Towns to the west were notified by
telephone as was the sheriff's office. The sheriff said he would be on
his way to Dry Lake in an hour. He was amazed that The Coyote should
be in his territory. He, too, wanted the outlaw, and he praised Brown
for his reward offer.
Judson Brown himself led the posse of thirty men which took the east
trail up the foothills. It was an hour past midnight. The moon had
risen and was flooding the tumbled landscape with its cold, white
light. From different vantage points on ridges high above, two men
looked grimly down and saw the moving shadows of the man hunters as
they took the trail.