IN HAND-TO-HAND CONFLICT
"I'm done with you, Bob Lasar! And you, too, Comstock!" thundered Mr.
Marquand, as the rascals stood at the door of his room some two hours
later.
Mr. Marquand had been waiting for them, and with him was Tad Butler,
whom he had urged to accompany him back to the hotel that he might be
a witness to what took place. Perhaps, too, Mr. Marquand reasoned that
his former associates might not take the same attitude toward him in
the presence of the boy that they might otherwise take.
The two men had halted in the doorway as Mr. Marquand hurled his
decision at them.
Lasar shoved his companion into the room and closed the door.
"Sit down, both of you! So you thought to hoodwink me--to get the
secret of the treasure and then put me out of the way, eh? That was
your game, was it? Well, it's all off now. I'll have nothing further
to do with you."
"Why--why, Mr. Marquand, it's all a mistake!" began one of the pair.
"Perhaps you'll deny having plotted against me on a train on your way
to Bluewater."
"I deny ever having tried to put up a game on--"
"Master Tad, did you ever see these men before?"
They turned on the lad quickly. Neither man had previously observed
him.
"Yes, sir."
"Where?"
"On the train, as you mentioned just now."
"And they were plotting my life?"
"So it seemed to me, sir."
"What have you to say to that?" demanded Mr. Marquand.
"That the boy lies!"
Tad's face flushed angrily.
"That'll do," said Marquand, more quietly.
"Then you believe him--you do not believe me?"
"I believe him. I know he has told me the truth. Now, it isn't
necessary to explain to you. You deserve no explanation and you'll get
none further than what you already have."
"But--"
"No 'buts' about it. I said I was done with you. Now, I want you to
get out of my sight! You're a couple of rogues--so crooked that you
can't walk straight."
Bob Lasar's face had grown livid with rage. His anger was rapidly
getting beyond all bounds. Tad observed it and saw the storm coming.
It arrived a moment later when Lasar whipped out a revolver.
Before Mr. Marquand could make a move to draw his own weapon Bob had
aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger.
Tad, instantly divining the purpose of the man when he saw his hand
fly to the pistol holster under his coat, sprang forward.
There was a deafening report. A bullet buried itself in the ceiling of
the room.
Tad had struck up the desperado's arm just in the nick of time, thus
preventing a terrible crime. But the end was not yet. There were five
more bullets in the cylinder of the weapon, as the lad knew full well.
He grabbed Lasar's arm, hanging on desperately, at the same time
trying to get a wrestling hold.
The weapon went off again, this time sending a bullet into the floor.
"Look out for the other fellow!" shouted Tad.
Mr. Marquand already had done so. Comstock had just made an attempt to
draw his own weapon when Marquand threw himself upon the man. The two
went crashing to the floor, while Tad and Lasar were battling all over
the room, the latter's weapon barking viciously every little while.
Lasar was much more powerful than his slender antagonist, but Tad
being very quick on his feet managed to keep out of the way of the
revolver and at the same time to avoid being thrown.
Suddenly, the boy gave the gun-hand of his opponent a quick twist.
Lasar uttered a sharp exclamation of pain. The revolver clattered to
the floor.
Quick as a flash, Tad threw a leg behind the knee of his antagonist,
gave it a quick jerk, with the result that Lasar went to the floor
with great violence.
By this time, occupants of the hotel were running down the hall, while
others were hammering at the door. Lasar had turned the key upon
entering the room.
Those within did not have time to listen to the demands of those in
the hall, who were demanding admission.
Mr. Marquand, as soon as he got his opponent down, quickly disarmed
him.
"Get up!" he commanded. "I don't want to kill you. I ought to do so,
but I won't."
He sprang from Comstock, and jerking Tad from Lasar, whom the lad was
making heroic efforts to hold down, pulled the fallen rascal to his
feet.
"Get out, both of you!" he commanded, covering both his visitors with
his weapon.
Lasar, in struggling to his feet, reached for his revolver.
"Drop it or I'll fill you full of lead!"
At that instant, the door burst open and half a dozen men sprang into
the room.
Lasar, seeing that he was caught, leaped through the open window. He
was followed closely by Comstock. He, too, made a clean leap, landing
on the soft ground below.
"What's the meaning of this shooting?" shouted the proprietor, his
face flushed with anger.
"Two men tried to murder me," replied Marquand coolly.
"It looks as though you were doing your share of it," snapped the
proprietor, noting his guest's belligerent attitude and drawn weapon.
Just then three shots in quick succession were fired from the outside.
Two of the bullets narrowly missed some of the men, who had forced
their way into the room.
As the third shot was fired, Tad threw one hand to his head; then drew
it away grinning.
"Those rascals have evidently gotten a new supply of fire arms," he
said.
A bullet had gone through his hair and his scalp burned where the lead
had brushed it.
All of the newcomers drew their revolvers and sprang to the window.
"Don't shoot!" cried the Pony Rider Boy; "You'll hit the wrong one.
There are a hundred people down there."
"He's right!" shouted Mr. Marquand, pushing his way between the men
and the window, at the imminent risk of getting a bullet in his back
from either Lasar or Comstock. "Let 'em go. They'll be running for
home about this time. They are a couple of scoundrels, sir."
"But the damage. Look at my fine room."
"I'll pay for the damage, and I'll quit your hotel now. I've had
enough of the place," retorted Mr. Marquand, pulling a roll of bills
from his pocket. "How much is it?"
"Well, you see--"
"How much is it?"
"Well, I guess twenty-five would be about right. You see--"
"Here's your twenty-five. Clear out!"
With many apologies the proprietor, accompanied by the others, backed
from the room.
"We came pretty near having a fight, didn't we?" Marquand smiled,
looking at Tad for the first time since the disturbance began.
"Almost."
"He would have got me if you hadn't knocked up his gun-hand. That's
another one I owe you. Well, maybe we'll have a pay day soon."
"You had better go back to camp with me, and bunk in with us
to-night," suggested the lad, "We shall want to make an early start in
the morning, anyway. I think it will be safer there, too. That pair
won't dare come fooling around our camp, knowing they can't trifle
with us," added the lad, with a note of pride in his tone.
"I'll do it. Not that I'm afraid of anything that walks on two legs,
but the sooner we hitch up the better it'll be. Got room enough?"
"Plenty. Where's your pony?"
"Up near your camp. Come on."
The man and the boy walked from the hotel, the former looking neither
to the right nor to the left, Tad observing their surroundings half
suspiciously. He was sure they had not yet heard the last of Bob Lasar
and Joe Comstock. In this he was right.
Marquand and the boy had gone no more than ten rods from the hotel,
when the report of a revolver was heard, and a bullet fired from the
corner of an adobe building passed within an inch of Mr. Marquand's
head.
With wonderful quickness the latter drew and sent three shots at the
flash.
Whether he had hit any thing or not he did not know.
"Run! I don't want you to get hit," cried the boy's new friend,
grasping Tad by the hand and starting off at a brisk pace.
"Bullets don't scare me, so long as they don't hit me," laughed young
Butler.