Part 25 (1/2)

Dinner that day appeared to be something only Bobby and Pan had thought or need of. Mrs. Smith and Lucy, learning they might have to leave in two weeks, surely in four, became so deeply involved in discussion of practical details of preparation, of food supplies for a long wagon trip, of sewing and packing, that they did not indulge in the expression of their joy.

”Dad is hopeless,” said Pan, with a grin. ”He's worse than a kid.

I'll have to pack his outfit, if he has anything. What he hasn't got, we'll buy. So, Mother, you trot out his clothes, boots, some bedding, a gun, chaps, spurs, everything there is, and let me pick what's worth taking.”

It was indeed a scant and sad array of articles that Pan had to choose from.

”No saddle, no tarp, no chaps, no spurs, no gun!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Pan, scratching his head. ”Poor Dad! I begin to have a hunch how he felt.”

It developed that all his father possessed made a small bundle that Pan could easily carry into town on his saddle.

”We'll buy Dad's outfit,” said Pan briskly. ”Mother, here's some money. Use it for what you need. Work now, you and Lucy. You see we want to get out of Marco p.r.o.nto. The very day Dad and I get back with the horses. Maybe we can sell the horses out there. I'd take less money. It'll be a big job driving a bunch of wild horses in to Marco.

Anyway, we'll leave here p.r.o.nto.”

To Lucy he bade a fond but not anxious good-by. ”We won't be away long. And you'll be busy. Don't go into town! Not on any account.

Send Alice. Or Mother can go when necessary. But you stay home.”

”Very well, boss, I promise,” replied Lucy roguishly.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Before dark that night Pan had most of his preparations made, so that next morning there would be nothing to do but eat, pack the horses, saddle up and ride.

At suppertime Charley Brown and Mac New, alias Hurd, called at the camp. The latter was a little the worse for the bottle. Charley was sober, hard, gloomy.

”Howdy, boys. Help yourself to chuck. Then we'll talk,” said Pan.

The outcome of that visit was the hiring of both men to go on the wild-horse drive. Brown's claim had been jumped by strangers. It could not be gotten back without a fight. Brown had two horses and a complete outfit; Mac New had only the clothes on his back.

”Fired me 'thout payin' my wages,” he said, sullenly.

”Who fired you, Mac?” inquired Pan.

”Hardman, the ---- ---- ----!” replied Mac New.

”Well! That's strange. Does he own the jail?”

”Huh! Hardman owns this heah whole d.a.m.n burg.”

”Nix,” spoke up Blinky. ”Don't fool yourself there, pardner. Jard Hardman has a long string on Marco, I'll admit, but somebody's goin' to cut it.”

Brown had an interesting account to give of his meeting with d.i.c.k Hardman down at Yellow Mine. The young scion of the would-be dictator of Marco fortunes had been drunk enough to rave about what he would do to Panhandle Smith. Some of his maudlin threats, as related by Brown, caused a good deal of merriment in camp, except to Blinky, who grew perfectly furious.

”Hey, cowboy, are you goin' to stand fer thet?” he queried, belligerently.

Pan tried to laugh it off, but Blinky manifestly had seen red at the mention of d.i.c.k Hardman's name. He was going over to the Yellow Mine and pick a fight. Pan, finding Blinky stubborn and strange, adopted other tactics. Drawing the irate cowboy aside he inquired kindly and firmly: ”It's because of Louise?”

”What's because?” returned Blinky, bl.u.s.teringly.