HOPALONG GROWS SUSPICIOUS
The eastern sky grew brighter and the dim morning light showed a group
of men at breakfast on the Peak. They already had been given their
orders and as soon as each man finished eating he strode off to where
his horse was picketed with the others, mounted, and rode away. Pete
had ridden in late the night before and was still sleeping in the
house, Hopalong not wishing to awaken him until it was absolutely
necessary.
Red Connors, riding back to the house from the horse herd, drew rein
for a final word. "I'm going out to watch that unholy drift of
Meeker's cows, just this side of th' half-way point. They was purty
thick last night when I rode in. I told Johnny to keep on that part of
th' line, for I reckon things will get too crowded for one man to
handle. Th' two of us can take care of 'em, all right. You knows where
you can find us if you need us."
"I don't like that drift, but I'll stay here an' give Pete an hour
more sleep," Hopalong replied. "Buck didn't know just when he'd be
down again, but I'm looking for him before noon, just th' same."
"Well, me an' Johnny'll stop th' drift. So long," and Red cantered
away, whistling softly.
Hopalong kicked out the fire and walked restlessly around the plateau,
puzzled by the massing of the H2 cows along the line. The play was
obvious enough on its face, for it meant that Meeker, tired of
inaction, had decided to force the issue by driving into the valley.
But Hopalong, suspicious to a degree, was not satisfied with that
solution.
On more than one occasion he had searched past the obvious and found
deeper motives, and to this ferment of thought he owed his life many
times. He, himself, essentially a schemer and trusting no one but the
members of his outfit, accused others of scheming and bent his mind to
outwit them. Buck often irritated him greatly, for the foreman,
optimistic and believing all men honest until they proved to be
otherwise, held that Meeker thought himself to be in the right and so
was justified in his attempt to use the valley. Hopalong believed that
Meeker was not square, that he knew he had no right to the valley and
was trying to steal range; he maintained that the wiser way was to
believe all men crooked and put the burden on them of proving
otherwise; then he was prepared for anything.
A better cow-man than Buck Peters never lived; he knew the cattle
industry thoroughly, was honest, fair, and fearless, maintained an
even temper and tried to avoid fighting until the last ditch had been
reached. But it was an indisputable fact that Hopalong Cassidy had
proved himself to be the best man on the ranch when danger threatened.
He grasped situations quickly and clearly and his companions looked to
him for suggestions when the sky was clouded by impending conflict.
Buck realized that his line-foreman was eminently better qualified to
handle the skirmish line than himself, that Hopalong could carry out
things which would fall flat if any one else attempted them. Back of
Buck's confidence was the pleasing knowledge that no man had ever yet
got in the first shot against Hopalong on an "even break," and that
when his puncher's gun exploded it was all over; this is why Hopalong
could, single-handed, win out in any reasonable situation.
While Hopalong turned the matter over in his mind he thought he saw a
figure move among the chaparrals far to the south and he whipped out
his glasses, peering long and steadily at the place. Then he put them
away and laughed softly. "You can't fool me, by G-d! I'll let you make
yore play--an' if Pete don't kill a few of you I'm a liar. Here are
th' shells--pick out th' pea."
Returning to the house he shook Pete. "Hey, get up!"
Pete bounded up, wide awake in an instant. "Yes?"
"Put on yore clothes an' come outside a minute," he ordered, going
out.
Pete finished buttoning his vest when he joined his friend, who was
pointing south. "Pete, they're playing for this house, an' I can't
stay--Red an' Johnny may need me any minute. Down there a Greaser is
watching this house. Meeker is massing his cows along th' line for two
reasons; he's trying to draw us away from here so he can get in, an'
he's going to push over th' line if he falls down here. You stay in
that shack. Don't leave it for a second, understand? Stop anybody that
comes up here if you have to kill him. But don't leave this house for
nothing, savvy?"
"Go ahead. I savvy."
Hopalong vaulted to his saddle and started away. "I'll get somebody to
help you as soon as I can," he called.
"Don't need anybody!" Pete shouted, going inside and barring the door.
Hopalong was elated by the way he had forestalled Meeker, and also
because it was Pete who guarded the house. He knew his companions only
as a man can know friends with whom he has lived for nearly a score of
years. Red was too good a fighter to be cooped up while trouble
threatened in the open; Johnny, rash and hot-tempered, could be
tempted to leave the house to indulge in personal combat if taunted
enough, and he, too, was too good a man in a _melee_ to remain on the
Peak. The man for the house was Pete, for he was accurate enough for
that short range, he was unemotional and did not do much thinking for
himself when it ran counter to his instructions; he had been told to
stay in the house and hold it, and that, Hopalong felt certain, he
would do.
"Pete'll hold 'em with one leg in th' air if they happen to be taking
a step when he sees 'em," he laughed.
But Pete was to be confronted with a situation so unexpected and of
such a nature that for once in his life he was going to forget
orders--and small blame to him.