Part 42 (1/2)
”I ought to talk it over with Ma before I buy grub,” replied his father, perplexedly scratching his head. ”I wish they was home.”
”Come on, Blink,” called Pan, as he rode out.
Blinky joined him out in the road.
”Pard, I don't get your hunch, but I can see you're oneasy.”
”I'm just loco, that's all,” returned Pan, forcing himself.
”It's--such--such a disappointment not to see--her.... Made me nervous. Makes me think how anything might happen. I never trusted Jim Blake. And Lucy is only a kid in years.”
”Ahuh,” said Blinky, quietly. ”Reckon I savvy. You wouldn't feel thet way fer nothin'.”
”Blink, I'm d.a.m.n glad you're with me,” rejoined Pan feelingly, turning to face his comrade. ”No use to bluff with you. I wish to heaven I could say otherwise, but I'm afraid there's something wrong.”
”Sh.o.r.e. Wal, we'll find out p.r.o.nto,” replied Blinky, with his cool hard spirit, ”an' if there is, we'll d.a.m.n soon make it right.”
They rode rapidly until they reached the outskirts of town, when Blinky called Pan to a halt.
”Reckon you'd better not ride through Main Street,” he said significantly.
They tied their horses behind a clump of trees between two deserted shacks. Pan removed his ragged chaps, more however to be freer of movement than because they were disreputable.
”Now, Blink, we'll know p.r.o.nto if the town is friendly to us,” he said seriously.
”Huh! I ain't carin' a whoop, but I'll gamble we could own the town.
This fake minin', ranchin', hoss-dealin' Hardman was a hunk of bad cheese. Pard, are you goin' to deny you killed him? Fer sh.o.r.e they've been told thet.”
”No. Wiggate can do the telling. All I want is to find Lucy and send her back home, then buy our outfit and rustle.”
”Sounds pretty. But I begin to feel hunchy myself. Let's have a drink, Pan.”
”We're not drinking, cowboy,” retorted Pan.
”Ain't we? Excuse me. Sh.o.r.e I figgered a good stiff drink would help some. I tell you I've begun to get hunches.”
”What kind?”
”No kind at all. Just feel that all's not goin' the way we hope. But it's your fault. It's the look you got. I'd hate to see you hurt deep, pard.”
They pa.s.sed the wagon shop where Pan's father had been employed, then a vacant lot on one side of the street and framed tents on the other.
Presently they could see down the whole of Main Street. It presented the usual morning atmosphere and color, though Pan fancied there was more activity than usual. That might have been owing to the fact that both the incoming and outgoing stages were visible far up at the end of the street.
Pan strained his eyes at people near and far, seeking first some sign of Lucy, and secondly someone he could interrogate. Soon he would reach the first store. But before he got there he saw his mother emerge, drag Bobby, who evidently wanted to stay. Then Alice followed.
Both she and her mother were carrying bundles. Pan's heart made ready for a second and greater leap--in antic.i.p.ation of Lucy's appearance.
But she did not come.
”h.e.l.lo, heah's your folks, pard, figgerin' from looks,” said Blinky.
”What a cute kid! ... Look there!”
Pan, striding ahead of Blinky saw his mother turn white and reel as if about to faint. Pan got to her in time.