QUERY
Far out across the starlit gloom the two thoroughbreds raced side by
side. They seemed to know what was required of them. A mile, two
miles, three miles, and the night-fire of Arguilla's men was a
flickering dot against the black wall of the night.
Brevoort pulled his horse to a walk. "We done left 'em looking at each
other," he drawled.
"Two of 'em ain't," said Pete succinctly.
Brevoort chuckled. "I was tryin' that hard not to laugh when you
smelled them aigs, that I come nigh missin' my chanct. You sure are
some play-actor."
"Play-actor nothin'! I was doggone near sick. I kin smell 'em yet.
Say, I'd like to know what'll happen to them two Cholas."
"Ain't you satisfied with what we done to 'em?"
"Yep. But Arguilla won't be. I'd hate to be in their boots--" From
the south came the faint, sinister "pop! pop!" of rifle shots. Pete
turned quickly toward his companion. "Right now," he concluded,
shrugging his shoulders.
"We got trouble of our own," said Brevoort. "Brent tried to run his
iron on us--but he got hold of the wrong iron. Now the deal will have
to go through like The Spider figured. Mebby Brent knows that
Arguilla's men are at the Ortez--and mebby he don't. But we don't say.
We ride in and repo't that Ortez says O.K.--that his vaqueros are
comin' for the cattle and that he is comin' with the cash. Brent won't
bat an eye. I know him. He'll jest tell you to take the dough and
ride to Sanborn and take the train for El Paso. Then he'll vamose."
"How's that?"
"'Cause he knows that this is the finish. When he was handlin' stock
from south of the line,--in small bunches, and pushin' it through
fast,--we was all right. The Mexican punchers was doin' the stealin',
sellin' the stuff to Brent. And Brent was sellin' to Arguilla's
agent--which is Ortez. All Ortez did was pay for it and turn it over
to Arguilla. Mexicans was stealin' from Mexicans and sellin' to Brent
cheap, 'cause he paid cash, and Brent was sellin' it to Mexicans. The
fellas that stole the stuff knew better 'n to try to sell to Arguilla.
All they would 'a' got would 'a' been a promise. So they sells to
Brent, who bought mighty cheap, but paid real money. That worked fine.
But when Brent starts stealin' from white men on his side of the
line--why, he knows that it is the finish--so he figures on a big
haul--or The Spider does--kind of takes them ranchers up north by
surprise and gets away with a couple of hundred head. But he knows, as
sure's he's a foot high, that they'll trail him--so he forgets that The
Spider said you was to collect from Ortez and bank the dough--and
figures on collectin' it himself."
"Kind of a cold deal, eh, Ed?"
"All crooked deals is cold."
"But I wonder why Brent didn't send me down to the Ortez alone. What
did he ring you in for?"
"Brent figured that I'd get wise to his scheme. You see, the
understandin' with The Spider is, that I'm fo'man of the Olla, case
Brent gets bumped off. Mebby The Spider thinks I'm square. Mebby he
jest plays me against Brent to keep us watchin' each other. I dunno."
"You figure Arguilla will send old man Ortez over the line with the
cash?"
"Yes. He will now. We done spoiled his game by gittin' loose. But I
don't say that Arguilla won't try to raid the Olla and get that money
back, after he's got the cattle movin' south. You see the
high-steppers that are backin' Arguilla ain't trustin' him with a whole
lot of cash, personal. 'Course, what he loots is his. But their money
is goin' for grub and ammunition. They figure if he gets enough cash,
he'll quit. And they don't want him to quit. He thinks he's the big
smoke--but all he is is hired man to big money."
"He's been played, right along--same as us, eh?"
"Same as us."
"Well, Ed, I don't mind takin' a long chanct--but I sure don't aim to
let any man make a monkey of me."
"Then you want to quit this game," said Brevoort. "Why don't you kind
of change hosses and take a fresh start? You ain't been in the game so
long but what you can pull out."
"I was thinkin' of that. But what's a fella goin' to do? Here we be,
ridin' straight for the Olla. Right soon the sun'll be shinin' and the
hosses millin' round in the corral and gittin' warmed up, and Brent'll
be tellin' us he can use us helpin' push them cattle through to the
south end: and I reckon we'll change our saddles and git right to work,
thinkin' all the time of quittin', but keepin' along with the job jest
the same. A fella kind of hates to quit any job till it's done. And I
figure this here deal ain't even started to make trouble--yet. Wait
till the T-Bar-T outfit gits a-goin'; and mebby the Concho, and the
Blue Range boys."
"Hand over your canteen a minute," said Brevoort. "I lost mine in the
get-away."
Dawn found them inside the south line fence. In an hour they were at
the 'dobe and clamoring for breakfast. The cook told them that Brent
was at the north line camp, and had left no word for them.
Brevoort glanced quickly at Pete. Evidently Brent had not expected
them to return so soon, if at all.
After breakfast they sauntered to the bunk-house, and pulled off their
boots and lay down.
It was about noon when the cook called them. "The bunch is back," he
said. "Harper just rode in. He says the old man is sore about
somethin'."
"The Spider?" queried Brevoort.
"Nope, Sam."
"Goin' to ride over?" asked Pete, after the cook had left.
"No. But I'm goin' to throw a saddle on one of the never-sweats and
I'm goin' to pick a good one."
"I reckon Blue Smoke'll do for me. You goin' to pull your freight, Ed?"
"We got our runnin' orders. The minute old man Ortez hands over that
cash, there'll be a hole in the scenery where we was."
"That's my idee. But suppose we make it through to El Paso all right.
What do we do next?"
"That's kind of like jumpin' off the aidge of the Grand Cañon and
askin' yourself what you're goin' to do while you're in the air. We
ain't lit yet."