Part 16 (1/2)

”So,” said Ellis approvingly, ”that's better.”

Dismounting leisurely, he drew off the loop and coiled up the riata.

”Get yu' over to that openin' in th' brush, where yore partner is,” he continued, in an authoritative, menacing voice. ”Here!-this way.” And, grasping the big man's shoulder, he guided him over to the indicated spot.

There they found the handcuffed, miserable Scotty. He had made no attempt to run away. Naturally a timid rogue, the rough handling that he had received had knocked whatever little pluck he possessed out of him completely. Now he whined like a frightened child, blaming Fisk for their mutual mischance; but the latter cursed savagely back, threatening him in horrid terms, so he ceased his lamentations in pure dread of the other's dominant personality, and relapsed into s.h.i.+vering silence. Fisk began to raise his voice again.

”What d'yu' figure on chargin' us with, anyways?” he snarled. ”Why, yu'

ain't got nothin' on us! We was on'y lookin' fur one o' our own hawsses, as we thort might-”

”George,” said the Sergeant appealingly, with up-raised, protesting hand, ”don't! Yu' gimme a pain-honest, yu' do. I'll tell yu' what I'm chargin' yu' both with, bein' as yu're from Missouri, an' want to be shown.” And in no uncertain terms he proceeded to do so, and cautioned them.

”Why didn't yu' call on me an' tell me yore business, as yu're supposed ter do?” bl.u.s.tered Big George in injured tones. ”I'd a-come with yu'

peaceable enough. I'll make a statement ag'in yu' two fellers 'bout th'

way I was man-handled.”

The policeman uttered a snort of ironical amus.e.m.e.nt.

”'Come peaceable'!” he echoed. ”Yes, yu'd a-come peaceable enough-yu've shown that. I've got th' marks an th' feel o' yore little donnies on my throat yet. I don't bear yu' no grudge fur that, though. Yu' go ahead, then, with yore statement, Mister Bloomin' Lawyer, an' I'll come back at _yu'_ with a charge of 'resisting arrest an' a.s.saultin' a police-officer in th' lawful execution of his duty,' fur which yu're liable to get two years extra. 'Call on yu' an' tell yu' my business' indeed! An' who's to prove I _didn't_?” he queried, with an ugly laugh. ”If yu' like to call it square why, all right. But if yu' mean actin' dirty, I'll act dirty, too-an' ahead o' yu' at that.”

The force of the other's argument seemed to impress the big rustler considerably, and he remained silent.

”I've got yore record from over th' Line, George,” the Sergeant continued. ”It's sure a peach.... Five years in th' State 'pen' at Huntsville, Texas. Another five in Rawlins, Wyoming. An' three in Sante Fe, New Mexico.... 'Call on' a rough-neck like yu'?” he repeated. ”With such a record as that? In th' dark-at close range-with a .45 on yore hip? 'Call on yu'! '-an' bring my knittin'. What'd yu' bin doin' th'

whiles? Shot me dead, most likely, or made some break that'd a-forced me to shoot _yu'_-just 'bout th' last thing I wanted to happen. No, Mister George; for reasons yu'll know later, yu're worth more to me alive than dead. 'Call on yu'!' Not if I know it. I'd trust yu' 'bout as much as I would a grizzly, a wolf, or a 'diamond-back.' Yu' don't get me like them two yu' stretched down at Los Barancedes. Yep, I know all 'bout _that_, too. What's that? On'y 'greasers'? Mebbe-but if th' Rurales'd a-caught yu' they'd a-surely b.u.mped yu' off, greasers or not. Now, see here; look,” he concluded with a harsh ring in his raised voice, ”yu' get me, once an' for all. Yu're a prisoner. I know my duty as a Mounted Police-Sergeant, an' I don't have to get arguin' th' point with four-flus.h.i.+n', tin-horn sc.u.m like yu'. An' mind, now, what I said about that charge goes if yu' make one more break, talkin' back to me.”

A hasty search of the two men's pockets, revealing nothing more dangerous than a jack-knife belonging to Scotty, he turned to Gallagher and bade him bring up the horses.

”Knot th' lines 'round th' horns o' George's an' Scotty's,” he said, ”an' string 'em together 'bout three foot apart with yore lariat, Barney. I want yu' to trail 'em. I'll come on behind.”

When all was in readiness he jerked out a curt order to the captives, to ”Climb aboard an' hold onta th' jug-handle!”

”'Member,” he added warningly. ”I'm close behind, so don't be so foolish as to chance anythin'. First man that does'll get hurt-bad.”

Then, and for the first time, Big George noticed the Sergeant's mount.

Speechless for the moment, he stood, pop-eyed, gaping stupidly.

”Look, look!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed to his partner in distress, ”why, that's Shorty's-” his voice failed him.

”Eyah! That's what put th' kibosh on me,” commiserated poor Scotty feelingly. ”He must ha' corralled _him_, too, an' th' --'s given us away. _Must_ have-who else could ha' put this feller onta us?”

Ellis, in his own saturnine fas.h.i.+on, chuckled grimly at this last remark. ”Sure,” he said, ”_that's_ what. Now, yu' fellers climb up _p.r.o.nto_. I ain't a-goin' to hang around here all night.”

In dismal silence they obeyed resignedly, and the grim little procession eventually reached the detachment. Wearily they dismounted, and the Sergeant drew Gallagher aside.

”Yu' go on in first Barney,” he whispered. ”Light th' lamp, an' wake th'

old feller I told yu' about. Tell him to go an' camp in th' kitchen for th' night-I'll bring him in some blankets, later. I don't want them fellers to see _him_.”

The other, nodding silently, entered the building, and soon a light shone through the open door. Presently he came out again.

”All set,” he said.

The Sergeant then proceeded to usher in his prisoners and, after leg-ironing them together, with a significant gesture handed the key over to Gallagher. Seen in the light the two rustlers presented a grotesquely dissimilar appearance.