THE REAL LOW-DOWN
They rode on in silence. When they reached the north end of the ridge
the man in the lead turned west on a slope studded with large boulders
and rock outcroppings. There was considerable shale here, too, and
they had to proceed cautiously in spots, both for fear of sliding down
the shale and to prevent making much noise.
"If they follow us up here, we can hear 'em before they get to us,"
said the man who called himself Percy, with a shrug and a frowning
look at his companion.
Rathburn did not reply.
They continued across the slope and descended into a large bowl or
pocket, guarded by huge boulders and scattering trees on the slope
above.
"Guess it's safe to rest our horses here," said Percy. "We can hear
'em coming either way; but I don't think they'll get up here."
However, neither he nor Rathburn knew how many men Brown had at his
command, nor did they know that the sheriff of the county, with two
deputies, had raced to Dry Lake by automobile, procured horses, and
hastened to join Brown on the east trail, which seemed the most likely
route of escape for the outlaw.
There was a spring in the pocket surrounded by a small meadow of good
grass. The pair watered their horses, loosened their saddle-cinches,
and permitted the animals to graze with reins dangling.
Rathburn took his slicker pack from the rear of his saddle and spread
it open on the ground.
"Reckon it's safe to build a small fire here?" he asked cheerfully.
"I'm powerful hungry, an' I've got some emergency provisions--being
trail-broke."
Percy, too, was hungry, as his eager look toward the pack testified.
"I'll climb up to the top on the lower side an' keep an eye out while
you fix some grub," he volunteered. "You needn't be scared of me
jumping over the other side. There's a drop of about five hundred feet
over there."
"Go ahead and jump if you want," said Rathburn. "Me--I'd rather live.
That's why I want to eat."
While the other climbed to his lookout position Rathburn made a fire.
Then he took a small frying pan and coffeepot, minus its handle, from
the pack, removed the packages stuffed in them, and soon was making
coffee, frying bacon, and warming up beans. This, with some hard
biscuits and some sirup out of a bottle, constituted their meal, which
Rathburn soon had ready.
Again he looked closely at Percy's face as the latter scrambled down
from his perch to appease his hunger.
Suddenly he burst out laughing; but it was a belittling laugh, half
sneering, which brought the blood to the face of the captive while
Rathburn watched him closely.
"If I had to-day's actions to do over again you mightn't be so
tickled," said the man viciously.
"I'm laughing to think how lucky you are for a rank beginner an'
botcher!" said Rathburn as they began to eat. "You must have took a
course in outlawing from some correspondence school," he continued.
"Maybe you could have done better," hinted the other.
"Quite likely I could," admitted Rathburn. "In the first place I'd
have shut that back door after I came in so nobody could pot shot me
from behind. Yes, I reckon I'd have done that."
Percy glared at him thoughtfully.
"Then I wouldn't have let myself get in line with the front and side
windows," Rathburn taunted. "Lots of men are shot through windows.
Ever hear of such a thing?"
His listener didn't answer.
"An' now that I think of it," Rathburn droned on, "I'd have lined
those men up against the wall with their faces turned away from me.
That puts 'em at more of a disadvantage, an' they can't see what's
going on."
Percy now was regarding him keenly.
"Let's see," said Rathburn, with tantalizing slowness. "Oh, yes,
Percy. I wouldn't have taken anything from the cash drawers but the
bills. I don't like to take the time to monkey around with a lot of
silver; besides, it sort of weights one down."
He paused long enough to let that sink in, then continued: "The thing
I'd have paid most of my attention to--excepting for keeping a
watchful eye on the men against the wall an' the windows an'
doors--would have been the safe. The big money's usually in the safe,
an' the bartender can be induced to open the safe just as easy as he
can be persuaded into opening the cash drawers. An' say, Percy, I'd
never let a bartender get as close to me as you let that fellow get to
you. He might start something, then you'd have to begin shootin' an'
that would alarm the town an' ball up the program."
"You talk like you'd had considerable experience," observed Percy
warily.
"Maybe so. Maybe I have. But if I have, I can say I've never pulled
anything quite so raw as the way you pulled that stunt last night down
in Dry Lake, Percy. That is the real low-down on that. You just
naturally laid yourself open to attack from all quarters."
His captive looked at him both respectfully and sheepishly.
"An' there's only one reason why you got away with it," said Rathburn,
his eyes narrowing.
"Because I was lucky like you say, I suppose," sneeringly answered
Percy.
"No!" thundered Rathburn. "You got away with it because they thought
you were The Coyote!"
The captive started; stared at Rathburn with widened eyes.
"That's why you got away with it," continued Rathburn in a hard voice.
"An' you thought you'd cinch it when you told 'em before you went out
that they could tell their funny judge you called!"
Rathburn's eyes blazed with angry contempt. "Trading on somebody
else's name," he mocked. "Trying to make out you was the goods, an' I
believe they thought you was The Coyote, at that. Man, I saw the whole
dirty business."
Percy's face went white. However, his emotion was more anger than
fear, and he was prey to an overpowering curiosity.
"How do you know I _ain't_ The Coyote?" he asked shrewdly.
Rathburn stared at him--stunned. Then he leaped to his feet and his
gun flashed into his hand in a movement too swift for the eye to
follow.
"Go over there and look at the brand on my horse," he commanded.
"Remember how that printed bill read that put it in your fool head to
try an' masquerade as The Coyote, an' then read the brand on that
horse!"
The captive rose and without a look back walked to where Rathburn's
horse was cropping the grass. The left side of the animal was toward
him and for a few moments he stood looking with bulging eyes at the
CC2 on the shoulder. Then he turned slowly.
Rathburn's gaze burned into his, but a cool, deliberate light had come
into his eyes.
"So you're The Coyote!" Percy said quietly. "I should have recognized
you."
"Yes, I'm called The Coyote," said Rathburn, walking slowly toward
him. "I'm the man they think robbed that joint down in Dry Lake last
night. I'm the man they're looking for. I'm the man they want to make
pay for your bungling work. That's the way it's gone for three years,
Percy. I've been blamed for job after job that I didn't even know was
pulled off till I heard they were looking for me on account of it. But
this is one job they'll not be able to lay at my door; for I've got
the man who's responsible an' I've got him red-handed!"
"What're you going to do about it?" asked the other coolly.
Again Rathburn's eyes blazed with rage. "Do? Why, I'm just naturally
going to take you in all by my lonesome an' turn you over to the
sheriff with my compliments."
Rathburn cooled down as he said this, drew tobacco and papers from his
shirt pocket, and proceeded to build a cigarette. He looked at his man
queerly.
"Now I reckon you know why I ain't got any idea of taking that money
off you," he said.
"They might not believe you," returned the other.
"I know what you mean. You mean they might think I was putting up a
job on 'em an' trying to shift the blame on somebody else. It can't be
done, Percy. Listen to this: I was looking through the front window of
that place last night when you held it up. Two men that work in the
hotel down there came along an' looked in alongside of me after I
warned 'em not to go in. I showed 'em this scar on my arm." He rolled
back his left sleeve disclosing a scar on the forearm about three
inches below the elbow.
"I told 'em that scar was made by a bullet from The Coyote's gun,"
Rathburn went on, pulling down his sleeve and drawing his right hand
back to the gun he had replaced in its holster. "That scar _was_ made
by The Coyote's gun. I shot myself in the arm by accident some few
years ago. Now, here's the point: Those men will remember me an'
remember that scar. The descriptions the sheriff of that county must
have in his office will tell all about that scar. It won't be hard to
identify me by it an' by the two men that stood out there by the
window with me. So they'll know I didn't pull the robbery!"
The other man shifted uneasily on his feet.
"An' that ain't all, Percy," Rathburn continued. "Somebody saw me
running up the street afterward because they took a couple of shots at
me for luck. That'll dovetail with my story. I've never been known to
use two guns. An' if they want any more proof all they'll have to do
will be to stand you up in front of the men you had in line, dressed
as you are with that black handkerchief over your face. That'll settle
it. I reckon the sheriff will believe me an' give me a chance when he
hears the facts, or I may not wait for a talk with him."
"I take it you've got me right," said the captive, compressing his
lips. "But if you're really The Coyote I've heard so much about,
you'll give me my gun an' give me a chance to run for it!"
Rathburn's laugh jarred on his ears. "Give you a chance an' take a
chance myself on going to the gallows?"
"The gallows!" exclaimed the other. "Oh--I see. But didn't you say you
thought the sheriff would give you a chance if he met you an' heard
your story? At that you don't have to stay around an' get taken back
to Arizona now."
"They hang men in this State," Rathburn interrupted.
"But--there wasn't----" The other man faltered, staring.
"One of those shots you fired at the lamp went wild, or glanced off
something, an'----" Rathburn lifted his brows significantly.
"Killed somebody!" cried the other.
He staggered back just as a rattle of falling stones signified that
horsemen were in the shale on the slope to eastward.