Part 16 (1/2)

The man on the horse frowned, considering, in the light of his experience as a successful and still living two-gun man, that such tactics were rather crude.

The Easterner sat up, coughed and blinked in the dawn. ”Where is what?

Why, good-morning! You're up early.” And his eye swept the empty camp.

So Overland Red had deserted him, after all. He might have expected as much. ”I haven't any 'pal,' as you can see. I'm out here studying insect life, as I told you I would be, yesterday. You needn't shake me any more. I'm awake. I can't say that I'm exactly pleased with my first specimen.”

”Oh! I'm a specimen, am I? I'm a insect, hey? Well, you're crooked, and you just talk up quick or the calaboose for yours!”

”No. I beg your pardon--but, no. You are in no condition, this morning, to talk with a gentleman. However, you are my guest. Have a cigar?”

The horseman's eyes twinkled. He admired the young Easterner's coolness. Not so the constable.

”See here, you swindlin' tin-horn sh.e.l.l-shover, you cough up where Overland Red is or there'll be somethin' doin'. You doped that booze yesterday, but you can't throw no bluff like that to-day.”

”I did what? Please talk slowly.”

”You doped that booze you--”

Much to the constable's surprise he found himself sitting on Winthrop's blankets and one of his eyes felt as though some one had begun to st.i.tch it up quickly with coa.r.s.e thread.

Winthrop, smiling serenely, nodded. ”Sorry to have to do it. I know I don't look like that kind, and I'm not, but I happen to know how.”

The constable got to his feet.

”I didn't doctor the brandy, as you intimated,” said Winthrop. ”And you needn't finger that belt of yours. I haven't a gun with me, and I believe it is not the thing for one man to use a gun on another when the--er--victim happens to be unarmed.”

The horseman, who had courage, admired Winthrop's att.i.tude. He rode between them. ”Cut it out, Hicks,” he said. ”You're actin' locoed. Guess you're carryin' your load yet. I'll talk to the kid. We 're losing time.

See here, stranger....”

Overland, watching and listening from his hiding-place, grinned as the constable sullenly mounted his horse.

Winthrop politely but firmly declined to acknowledge that he had had a companion. Overland was pleased and the riders were baffled by the young man's subtle evasion of answering them directly.

”Size of it is, you're stung,” said the man who had questioned Winthrop last. ”He's lit out, now he's done you.”

To this the Easterner made no reply.

The hors.e.m.e.n rode away, following the circle of burro tracks toward the hills. Winthrop watched them, wondering what had become of his companion. He could hardly believe that the tramp had deserted him, yet the evidence was pretty plain. Even his revolver was gone, and his belt and cartridges. Winthrop yawned. He was hungry. There was no food. But there was water. He walked toward the water-hole.

”Stand still--and listen,” said a voice.

Winthrop jumped back, startled and trembling. The voice seemed to come from the water-hole at his feet.

”Over here--this way,” the voice said.

Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was no other than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable. The Easterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind the brush edging the rise beyond the water-hole.

”It's me,” said Overland, still concealed. ”Thought I quit you, eh? Are them fellas out of sight yet?”

”No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though.”