cause of
excitement drew the loose population toward the centre
of the road. Immediately their mass blotted out what had
interested them. Curiosity attracted the saunterers; then in
turn the frequenters of the bars and gambling games. In a very
few moments the barkeepers, gamblers, and look-out men, held
aloof only by the necessities of their
calling, alone of all the
population of Pereza were not included in the newly-formed ring.
The stranger pushed his horse
resolutely" target="_blank" title="ad.坚决地;果断地">
resolutely to the outer edge of the
crowd where, from his point of
vantage, he could easily overlook
their heads. He was a quiet-appearing young fellow, rather
neatly dressed in the border
costume, rode a "centre fire," or
single-cinch,
saddle, and wore no chaps. He was what is known as
a "two-gun man": that is to say, he wore a heavy Colt's revolver
on either hip. The fact that the lower ends of his holsters were
tied down, in order to
facilitate the easy withdrawal of the
revolvers, seemed to indicate that he expected to use them. He
had
furthermore a quiet grey eye, with the glint of steel that
bore out the
inference of the tied holsters.
The
newcomer dropped his reins on his pony's neck, eased himself
to an attitude of attention, and looked down
gravely on what was
taking place. He saw over the heads of the bystanders a tall,
muscular, wild-eyed man, hatless, his hair rumpled into staring
confusion, his right
sleeve rolled to his shoulder, a
wicked-looking nine-inch knife in his hand, and a red bandana
handkerchiefhanging by one corner from his teeth.
"What's
biting the locoed stranger?" the young man inquired of
his neighbour.
The other frowned at him darkly.
"Dare's anyone to take the other end of that
handkerchief in his
teeth, and fight it out without letting go."
"Nice
joyful proposition," commented the young man.
He settled himself to closer attention. The wild-eyed man was
talking rapidly. What he said cannot be printed here. Mainly
was it derogatory of the southern countries. Shortly it became
boastful of the northern, and then of the man who uttered it.
He swaggered up and down, becoming always the more
insolent as
his
challenge remained untaken.
"Why don't you take him up?" inquired the young man, after a
moment.
"Not me!" negatived the other
vigorously. "I'll go yore little
old gunfight to a finish, but I don't want any cold steel in
mine. Ugh! it gives me the shivers. It's a reg'lar Mexican
trick! With a gun it's down and out, but this knife work is too
slow and searchin'."
The
newcomer said nothing, but fixed his eye again on the raging
man with the knife.
"Don't you
reckon he's bluffing? "be inquired.
"Not any!" denied the other with
emphasis. "He's jest drunk
enough to be crazy mad."
The
newcomer shrugged his shoulders and cast his glance
searchingly over the
fringe of the crowd. It rested on a Mexican.
"Hi, Tony! come here," he called.
The Mexican approached, flashing his white teeth.
"Here," said the stranger, "lend me your knife a minute."
The Mexican, anticipating sport of his own
peculiar kind, obeyed
with alacrity.
"You fellows make me tired," observed the stranger, dismounting.
"He's got the whole townful of you bluffed to a standstill. Damn
if I don't try his little game."
He hung his coat on his
saddle, shouldered his way through the
press, which parted for him
readily, and picked up the other
corner of the
handkerchief.
"Now, you mangy son of a gun," said he.
CHAPTER THREE
THE AGREEMENT
Jed Parker straightened his back, rolled up the bandana
handkerchief, and
thrust it into his pocket, hit flat with his
hand the touselled mass of his hair, and
thrust the long hunting
knife into its sheath.
"You're the man I want," said he.
Instantly the two-gun man had jerked loose his
weapons and was
covering the
foreman.
"AM I!" he snarled.
Not jest that way," explained Parker. "My gun is on my hoss, and
you can have this old toad-sticker if you want it. I been
looking for you, and took this way of
finding you. Now, let's go
talk."
The stranger looked him in the eye for nearly a half minute
without lowering his revolvers.
"I go you," said he
briefly, at last.
But the crowd,
missing the
purport, and in fact the very
occurrence of this colloquy, did not understand. It thought the
bluff had been called, and naturally,
findingharmless what had
intimidated it, gave way to an exasperated
impulse to get even.
"You -- -- -- bluffer!" shouted a voice, "don't you think you can
run any such ranikaboo here!"
Jed Parker turned humorously to his companion.
"Do we get that talk?" he inquired gently.
For answer the two-gun man turned and walked
steadily in the
direction of the man who had shouted. The latter's hand strayed
uncertainly toward his own
weapon, but the
movement paused when
the stranger's clear, steel eye rested on it.
"This gentleman,"
pointed out the two-gun man
softly, "is an old
friend of mine. Don't you get to
calling of him names."
His eye swept the bystanders calmly.
"Come on, Jack," said be, addressing Parker.
On the
outskirts be encountered the Mexican from whom he bad
borrowed the knife.
"Here, Tony," said he with a slight laugh, "here's a peso.
You'll find your knife back there where I had to drop her."
He entered a
saloon, nodded to the
proprietor, and led the way
through it to a boxlike room containing a board table and two
chairs.
"Make good,"he commanded
briefly.
"I'm looking for a man with nerve," explained Parker, with equal
succinctness. "You're the man."
"Well?"
"Do you know the country south of here?"
The stranger's eyes narrowed.
"Proceed," said he.
"I'm
foreman of the Lazy Y of Soda Springs Valley range,"
explained Parker. "I'm looking for a man with sand enough and
sabe of the country enough to lead a posse after cattle-rustlers
into the border country."
"I live in this country," admitted the stranger.
"So do plenty of others, but their eyes stick out like two raw
oysters when you mention the border country. Will you tackle
it?"
"What's the proposition?"
"Come and see the old man. He'll put it to you."
They mounted their horses and rode the rest of the day. The
desert compassed them about, marvellously c
hanging shape and
colour, and every
character, with all the noiselessness of
phantasmagoria. At evening the desert stars shone steady and
unwinking, like the flames of candles. By moonrise they came to
the home ranch.
The buildings and corrals lay dark and silent against the
moonlight that made of the plain a sea of mist. The two men
un
saddled their horses and turned them loose in the wire-fenced
"pasture," the necessary noises of their
movements sounding
sharp and clear against the
velvet hush of the night. After a
moment they walked
stiffly past the sheds and cook shanty, past
the men's bunk houses, and the tall windmill silhouetted against
the sky, to the main building of the home ranch under its great
cottonwoods. There a light still burned, for this was the third
day, and Buck Johnson awaited his
foreman.
Jed Parker pushed in without ceremony.
"Here's your man, Buck," said he.
The stranger had stepped inside and carefully closed the door
behind him. The lamplight threw into
relief the bold, free lines
of his face, the details of his
costume powdered thick with
alkali, the shiny butts of the two guns in their open holsters
tied at the bottom. Equally it defined the
resolutecountenanceof Buck Johnson turned up in
inquiry. The two men examined each
other--and liked each other at once.
"How are you," greeted the cattleman.
"Good-evening," responded the stranger.
"Sit down,"invited Buck Johnson.
The stranger perched gingerly on the edge of a chair, with an
appearance less of
embarrassment than of
habitual alertness.
"You'll take the job?" inquired the Senor.
"I haven't heard what it is," replied the stranger.
"Parker here--?"
"Said you'd explain."
"Very well," said Buck Johnson. He paused a moment, collecting
his thoughts. "There's too much cattle-rustling here. I'm going
to stop it. I've got good men here ready to take the job, but no
one who knows the country south. Three days ago I had a bunch of
cattle
stolen right here from the home-ranch corrals, and by one
man, at that. It wasn't much of a bunch--about twenty head--but
I'm going to make a starter right here, and now. I'm going to
get that bunch back, and the man who stole them, if I have to go
to hell to do it. And I'm going to do the same with every case
of rustling that comes up from now on. I don't care if it's only
one cow, I'm going to get it back--every trip. Now, I want to
know if you'll lead a posse down into the south country and bring
out that last bunch, and the man who rustled them?"
"I don't know--" hesitated the stranger.
"I offer you five thousand dollars in gold if you'll bring back
those cows and the man who stole 'em,"
repeated Buck Johnson.
"And I'll give you all the horses and men you think you need."
"I'll do it,"replied the two-gun man promptly.
"Good!" cried Buck Johnson, "and you better start to-morrow."
"I shall start to-night--right now."
"Better yet. How many men do you want, and grub for how long?"
"I'll play her a lone hand."
"Alone!" exclaimed Johnson, his confidence visibly cooling.
"Alone! Do you think you can make her?"
"I'll be back with those cattle in not more than ten days."
"And the man," supplemented the Senor.
"And the man. What's more, I want that money here when I come
in. I don't aim to stay in this country over night."
A grin overspread Buck Johnson's
countenance. He understood.
"Climate not
healthy for you?" he hazarded. "I guess you'd be
safe enough all right with us. But suit yourself. The money
will be here."
"That's agreed?" insisted the two-gun man.
"Sure."
"I want a fresh horse--I'll leave mine--he's a good one. I want
a little grub."
"All right. Parker'll fit you out."
The stranger rose.
"I'll see you in about ten days."
"Good luck," Senor Buck Johnson wished him.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE ACCOMPLISHMENT
The next morning Buck Johnson took a trip down into the "pasture"
of five hundred wire-fenced acres.
"He means business," he confided to Jed Parker, on his return.
"That cavallo of his is a heap sight better than the Shorty horse
we let him take. Jed, you found your man with nerve, all right.