Part 30 (1/2)
”Not after we separated this mawnin',” returned Blinky. ”An' thet reminds me, pard, I've got somethin' to tell you. This fellar Hurd--or Mac New as you call him--has a pocketful of gold coin.”
”How do you know?” queried Pan bluntly.
”Gus kicked his coat this mawnin', over there where Mac New had his bed, an' a pile of gold eagles rolled out. Just by accident. Gus wanted somethin' or other. He was plumb surprised, an' he said Mac New was plumb fl.u.s.tered. Now what you make of thet?”
”By golly, Blink, I don't know. There's no reason why he shouldn't have some money, yet it strikes me queer. How much gold?”
”Aw, two or three hundred easy,” rejoined Blinky. ”It struck me sort of queer, too. I recollected thet he told us he'd only been doin'
guard duty at the jail fer a couple of months. An' Gus recollected how not long before Mac New went to work he'd been a regular grub-line runner. We fed him heah, or Juan did. Now, pard, it may be all right an' then again it mayn't. Are you sh.o.r.e aboot him?”
”Blink, you make me see how I answer to some feeling that's not practical,” returned Pan, much perturbed. ”Mac was an outlaw in Montana. Maybe worse. Anyway I saved him one day from being strung up. That was on the Powder River, when I was riding for Hurley's X Y Z outfit. They were a hard lot. And Mac's guilt wasn't clear to me.
Anyway, I got him out of a bad mess, on condition he'd leave the country.”
”Ahuh! Wal, I see. But it's a sh.o.r.e gamble he's one of Hardman's outfit now, same as Purcell.”
”Reckon he was. But he got fired.”
”Thet's what _he_ says.”
”Blink, you advise me not to trust Mac New?” queried Pan dubiously.
”I ain't advisin' n.o.body. If you want my opinion, I'd say, now I know what you done fer Mac New, thet he wouldn't double-cross you. When it comes down under the skin there ain't much difference between outlaws an' other range men in a deal like thet.”
”Well, I'll trust him just because of that feeling I can't explain,”
returned Pan.
He did not, however, forget the possible implication, and it hovered in his mind. It was after dark when Mac New and Brown rode into camp.
Pan and the others were eating their supper.
”We had to ride clean to the end of the valley to cross that wash,”
said Brown. ”It's rough country. Horses all down low. Didn't see so many, at that, until we rimmed around way up on this side.”
”Fine. You couldn't have pleased me more,” declared Pan. ”Now Mac, what do you say?”
”About this heah hoss huntin'?” queried Mac New.
”Yes. Our prospects, I mean. You've chased wild horses.”
”It'll be most as bad as stealin' hosses,” replied the outlaw, laconically. ”Easy work an' easy money.”
”Say, you won't think it's easy work when you get to dragging cedars down that hill in the hot sun all day. I don't know anything harder.”
Early next morning the labor began and proceeded with the utmost dispatch. The slope resounded with the ring of axes. Pan's father was a capital hand at chopping down trees, and he kept two hors.e.m.e.n dragging cedars at a lively rate. The work progressed rapidly, but the fence did not seem to grow in proportion.
As Pan dragged trees out to the sloping valley floor, raising a cloud of dust, he espied a stallion standing on the nearest ridge, half a mile away. How wild and curious!
”You better look sharp, you raw-boned sage eater!” called Pan.
Twice more this same horse evinced intelligent curiosity. Pan could not see any signs of a band with him. But other wild horses showed at different points, none however so close as this gray black-spotted stallion. Blinky was sure this horse had not always been wild.