Full Text Archive logoFull Text Archive — Free Classic E-books

The Desire of the Moth; and The Come On by Eugene Manlove Rhodes

Part 1 out of 3

Adobe PDF icon
Download this document as a .pdf
File size: 0.3 MB

Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Leah Moser and PG Distributed Proofreaders





They were riding hard

"Gentlemen--be seated!"


Chapter I

_"Little Next Door--her years are few--
Loves me, more than her elders do;
Says, my wrinkles become me so;
Marvels much at the tales I know.
Says, we shall marry when she is grown----"_

country to him.

Close behind, Organ Mountain flung up a fantasy of spires,
needle-sharp and bare and golden. The long straight range--saw-toothed
limestone save for this twenty-mile sheer upheaval of the
Organ--stretched away to north and south against the unclouded sky,
haze; till the sharp, square-angled masses rounded to hillocks--to a
blur--a wavy line--nothing.


travel when I go anywheres. Just starting and arriving don't delight

It was a tidy step to Prescott--say, as far as from Philadelphia to

scattered, with gulfs between to tell of unseen plains and hidden
happy valleys--altogether giving an impression of rushing toward him,
resistless, like the waves of a stormy sea.

sandy benches, to where the Rio Grande bore quartering across the
ribbon of mossy green, broidered with loops of flashing river--a
for the desolate gray desert beyond and the yellow hills of sand
from courthouse or church or school.

the blue of the westmost range.


To that amble he crooned to himself, pleasantly, half-dreamily--as if
he voiced indirectly some inner thought--quaint snatches of old song:

_"She came to the gate and she peeped in--
Grass and the weeds up to her chin;
Said, 'A rake and a hoe and a fantail plow
Would suit you better than a wife just now.'"_

And again:

_"Schooldays are over now,
Lost all our bliss;
But love remembers yet
Quarrel and kiss.
Still, as in days of yore----"_

call Billy Beebe's Bible:

_"One Moment in Annihilation's waste,
One Moment of the Well of Life to taste--
The Stars are setting, and the Caravan
Starts for the Dawn of----Nothing. Oh, make haste!"_

moved over rather than risk any attempt to squeeze by.

girl who looked at him rather attentively.

less natty man with black mustaches. John Wesley rightly concluded
whom an incredibly beautiful young lady looked with haughty disdain,
was the villain, and foiled.

them. Click! On the screen appeared a scroll:

Keep Your Seats. Two Minutes to Change

The lights were turned on. Pringle looked at the crowd--girls,
together. Many were leaving; among them Pringle's fat and obliging

down the lights were dimmed again. Simultaneously the girl he had



believe it!"

"But it's oh-so-true!" said Stella, rising. "Let's go--we can't talk

pardon," Pringle said on the sidewalk.

Stella laughed.

"That's all right--I understand--forget it! You hadn't looked at me.
But I knew you when you first came in--only I wasn't sure till the
you--pretend to be shocked and dreadfully angry, and all that--but
glad to see me--after five years?"

still in Prescott?"


iron-hard--a smile which happily changed that face, and softened it.

The girl's eyes danced at him.


"So I am--both those little things. Six years!" he said slowly. "Dear
me--dear both of us! That will make you twenty-five. You don't look a

flushed her face.

"I am Stella Vorhis--yet."

"Meaning--for a little while yet?"

first--and remember, anything you say may be used against you. Where
account of yourself!"

with an unconscious caress.

"It's good to see you, old-timer! Begin now--I, John Wesley Pringle,
have a--home of your own now."

deposited them in her lap.

stately dignity.

That's all. Oh, yes--I'm living in Rainbow Mountain; cattle. Two
pardners--nice boys but educated. Had another one; he's married now,
poor dear--and just as happy as if he had some sense."

"You're not?"

"Not what--happy or married?"

"Married, silly!"


shopping and go back on the four-forty-eight--and I'll have to be


long visit, you know--just as long as you can stay. You're horseback,
just beyond there."



"To-morrow, then. My horse is tired--I'll stay here to-night."

quite well-to-do."

wandering round like a lost cat, won't he?"

"I think he likes it here--only for the crazy-mad political feeling;
and I think he's settled down for good."

"High time, I think, at his age."

look much older now than when I first saw you."

time I saw you was--"

"At Bakersfield--at mother's funeral," said the girl softly. "Then you
was Little Next Door to you--"

should go away."

stay, John Wesley?"


trouble; always strong and resourceful--"


"Well, you are! And you're so--so reliable; like Faithful John in the
above your wages."

"This is very gratifying indeed," observed Pringle. "But--a sweetly
boy--the onliest little boy?"

"He's not a boy," said Stella, flushing hotly. "He's a man--a man's
man. You'll like him, John Wesley--he's just your kind. I'm not going
men in every way. Come on, John Wesley--it's time to go down to the

Pringle caught step with her.

"And how long--if a reliable old faithful John may ask--before you
become Stella Some-One-Else?"

convention it is that people are never supposed to congratulate the
girl--as if no man was ever worth having! Silly, isn't it?"


l--like anyone, this way?"

her promise true."

When the train had gone John Wesley wandered disconsolately back
attendant hastened to serve him.

"What will it be, sir?"

"Give me a gin pitfall," said John Wesley.

Chapter II

"Cold feet?"

"Horrible!" said Anastacio.


provoke Foy into an outbreak----"

"Not we--you," corrected Anastacio. "Myself, I do not feel provoking."

"Are you going to lay down on me?"

"If you care to put it that way--yes. Kit Foy is just the man to leave

violence now and you'll see! They won't see any romance in it--just an
of law and order--"

"Law _to_ order, some say."

regarded his deputy darkly.

side all these men of substance will be with us unconditionally?

any way bettered by our wars. Come, Mr. Lisner--the Kingdom of Lady
deputy under two sheriffs--so I need have the less hesitation in
setting forth my passionate preference for peace."

your own cinch, you have one of your _gente_ for deputy in every
precinct in the county."

to my _gente_. Be sure that I shall think more than once or twice
before I set a man of my men at a useless hazard to pleasure you--or
to reelect you."

"You speak plainly."

"I intend to. I speak for three hundred--and we vote solid. Make no
without you."

"Perhaps you'd like to be sheriff yourself."

"I might like it--except that I am not as young and foolish as I was,"
the mad old days--on either side--should be sheriff."

pee-pul," sneered the sheriff.

a laughing stock. But your main motive is--money. And I don't see why.
You've got all the money any one man needs now."

"I notice you get your share."

you fan up every little bicker into a lawsuit--don't I know? Just for
the mileage--ten cents a mile each way in a county that's jam full of
year--the farmer at seed time and harvest, the cowman from the spring
Foy, do it yourself--or set your city police on him."

"I will."

he rose.


"Stranger," said Ben Creagan, "you can't play pool! I can't--and I
beat you four straight games. You better toddle your little trotters
and tone made plain the purposed offense.

leaving Max Barkeep, three others, and John Wesley Pringle--the last
Pringle had suffered, unprotesting, more gratuitous insults than
Pringle highly resolved to know why. He now blinked mildly.



bartender. "What you think this is--a kindergarten?"



bore 'em."

backward look Pringle slouched abjectly through the wide-arched
doorway to the bar.

"Come on, fellers--have something."


arms, and mustaches disproportionately long for his dwarfish body. His
much like a spider.

for bed."

"I ain't sleepy, I tell you."

Espalin leaped up, snarling.

"Say! You lukeing for troubles, maybe? Bell, I theenk thees _hombre_
got a gun. Shall we freesk him?"

leave Pringle's.

Bell Applegate got leisurely to his feet--a tall man, well set up,
with a smooth-shaved, florid face and red hair.

coat, displaying a silver star.

see for yourself."

"We will--don't worry! Don't you make one wrong move or I'll put out
your light!"

"Be you the sheriff?"

"Police. Go to him, Ben!"


"I done told you so, didn't I?"

before you take the road again."

"Is that--er--police regulations or state law?"

"State law--and has been any time these twenty-five years. Say, you
doddering old fool, what do you think this is--a night school?"

"I--I guess I'll go to bed," said Pringle miserably.

"I--I guess if you come back I'll throw you out," mimicked Ben with a

door, noisily again; he locked it--from the outside. Then he did a

* * * * *

door slam shut Bell Applegate nodded and Creagan went out on the
you--we might not get him to stay the fifteen minutes out. You stay
loose. _Sabe_?"

"Maybe Meester Ben don't find heem."

Setting the time to use the water and assessing _fatiga_ work. Every
mixed up in it. Got your story straight?"



after on the street. Such--quite apart from his sprightly past--was
swift and sure motion. He wore a working garb now--blue overalls and a

Foy paused for a second; Applegate rose.

have fancied this particular bunch--hey? All over now, please the

"I'll smoke," said Foy.

"Me too," said Espalin.

the bar and handed over a sixshooter and a cartridge belt.

"Here, Chris--here's the gun I borrowed of you when I broke mine. Much

chamber and buckled the belt under his rowdy.

"My hardware is mostly plows and scrappers and irrigating hoes
nowadays," he remarked. "Good thing too."

drinking again--and when he soaks it up he gets discontented over
ought to know it."

Foy considered his cigar.

"That's awkward," he replied briefly.

but he says he's going to shoot you on sight--and I believe he means

Foy smiled and shook his head.

"I can't do that--and it would only make him madder than ever. But
come up there."

meeting Dick Marr?" said Applegate incredulously.

go away. He hasn't much to keep him here."

Applegate, brightening.


on, Joe--have a hoot."



Espalin. His tilted chair leaned against the casing of the
suddenly aware of something round and hard and cold pressed against
Mr. Pringle.

Espalin's body. Mr. Espalin gathered that Pringle desired no outcry
at his belt, which removed his gun.


Creagan seized the uplifted wrist with both hands, Applegate pounced
happened swifter than Pringle's swift rush. Foy's knee shot up to
Applegate's stomach. Applegate fell, sprawling. Foy hurled himself on
astonished at the unexpected advent of Mr. Pringle. Applegate lay

"Who're you!" challenged Foy.


mistakes, Foy's gun followed Pringle's motions, at the same time
acquired Creagan's gun quite subconsciously.

Jack-in-a-Pinch, Little Friend of the Under Dog--see Who's This? page
two-thirteen. My German friend, come out from behind that bar--hands
up--step lively! Spot yourself! My Mexican friend, join Mr. Max.
Move, you poisonous little spider--jump! That's better! Gentlemen--be
seated! Right there--smack, slapdab on the floor. Sit down and think.
because you don't know who I am? I'll count three! One! two!--That's
it. Very good--hold that--register anticipation! I am a worldly man,"
said Pringle with emotion, "but this spectacle touches me--it does

breathless condition would permit.

"George--may I call you George? I don't know your name. You may get
square with me, George--but you'll never be square with anyone. You
are a rhomboidinaltitudinous isosohedronal catawampus, George!"

it as he noted the tension of Pringle's trigger finger.

"Because I forgot to tell you--I've got my gun now--and yours. You
minutes. But if I wasn't going--and if you had your gun--you couldn't
disgust is stirred--by peace! I'm growing younger every year, I don't
effort to get up."

"How--who----" began Creagan; but Pringle cut him short.


bleeding profusely.



"Didn't happen--I did it on purpose," said John Wesley. "You see,
these four birds tipped their hand. All evening they been instructing
look like a dove?"

"Not at present," laughed Foy.

"Well, I didn't like it--nobody would. I see there was a hen on, I
clomped off to bed, got my good old Excalibur gun--full name X.L.V.
Caliber--slipped off my boots, tippytoed down the back stairs like a
Barred Rock cat, oozed in by the side door--and here I be! I overheard
well I chipped in, because--take a look at them cartridges in your
gun, will you? Your own gun--the one they borrowed from you."

men on the floor looked unhappy under his thoughtful eye.

"Nice little plant--what? Do we kill 'em?" said Pringle cheerfully. "I
Was they vexed at you, son?"

effect. Election this fall."

one vote--fixed good and proper. The Ben-boy was to let your right
near let them out."


"I believe you are," said Pringle. "And--but, also, I know the two
had just half a second more to live--and you beat me to it. Too bad!
Well, what next?"

Foy pondered a little.



That was a good lay, it seemed; and it was carried out--with one
the sheriff.

Bell Applegate is sick--seems to be indigestion; Espalin is having

Pringle smiled benevolently from the door.

wrong--like three little mice that were playing in the barn though
good little boys--go nighty-nighty!"

blithesome as he rode:

_"So those three little owls flew back up in the barn--
Inky, dinky, doodum, day!
Inky, dinky, doodum, day!
I don't think much of this song, do you?
But there's one thing about it--'tis certainly true--
Inky, dinky, doodum, day!"_

They reached the open; the gallop became a trot.

way for you?"

me. I go to a railroad station first--Aden. Then to the Vorhis place?"

name yet."


name's Foy--Christopher Foy."


Chapter III

Being a child must have been great fun--once. Nowadays one would as
for duodecimals. Sometimes it seems that all our struggle with moody
verbs and insubordinate conjunctions was a wicked waste--poor little
sleepy puzzleheads! But there were certain joyous facts which we
seal; and Italy was a boot.

Mexico; and the Jornado is in the boot-heel.

El Jornado del Muerto--the Journey of the Dead Man! From what dim old

mighty silence; his faithful few about him, with fearful backward
mountains looking down on them. Plymouth Rock is unnamed yet.--Then
the mist shuts down.

The Santa Fe Trail reaches across the Jornado; tradition tells of
is the end of all dreams.

north along that old road in '62--to return no more.

Roullier, a Swiss; and Teagardner, a Welshman.


A certain rich man desired to be President--to please his wife,
grand old national convention. He gave largely to charities and
know what his right hand was about.

He sent after them.

candidate provided the money and a manager, also ambidextrous with
instructions to get those votes and incidentally to double the money,
as a good and faithful manager should.

embittered and disappointed man, in the obscurity of the United States

mark of distinction to be a Bar Cross man. The good old customs--and
certain bad old customs, too--still held on the Bar Cross Range, fifty
smaller ranches: among them the V H--the Vorhis Ranch.

visible center of a world fresh, eager, and boundless.

flung up her hand exultingly.

of? This:

_"'... Magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn!'_

set out from Spain."

"How true! Fine old bird, Columbus--he saw America first. Great head
have said, 'the day Antony discovered Cleopatra'--or something like
that. Wise old Chris!"

Stella's eyes narrowed reflectively.

about Mark Antony."

easy Mark!"

pardners of yours. Your talk shows it. You're changed a lot--that way.
Every other way you're the same old Wes!"

It's exasperating! It's sickening!"


John Wesley."

"Yes, you did--and I do. He's a self-starter. He's a peppermist. He's
a regular guy. It wasn't only the way he smashed those thugs--taken
by surprise and all--but that he had judgment enough not to shoot when
spoiled it all."


Why, if it was me, do you s'pose I'd leave another man--no matter how
old and safe he was--to tell such a story as that his own way and hog
all the credit for himself? That Las Uvas push is a four-flush--he
you got ready to come--and every time I'd narrate that tale about the
scrap it would get scarier and scarier."

never brags--any more than you do, Wes. You're always making fun of
quite truthful--as men go--till they get on the witness stand. But the
The whole courthouse ring hates Chris and fears him--especially Matt
outfought, Chris did it. Besides----" She paused; the color swept to
her cheek.

"Besides--you. Yes, yes," grumbled Pringle. "Might have been expected.
These women! Does the Foy-boy know?"

Pringle's fearlessly. "But before that--he--he persecuted me, John.
"And I wish--oh, John Wesley, you don't know how I wish you were
staying here--dear old friend!"

and your Chris to go on a honeymoon at once--and never come back."

go on."

"But now you know. We managed to make a joke of last night--but what
John Wesley, "to visit Las Uvas--some dark night--in a Zeppelin."

* * * * *

Stella cried out in alarm:

"Father! What is it? Chris?"

"Stella--be brave! Dick Marr was killed at midnight--and they're
swearing it off on Chris."

"But John Wesley was with him."

or the fight at the hotel. Joe Espalin doesn't appear--no claim that
he saw Foy at all."

"That looks ugly," observed Pringle.

cloth. Espalin and the barkeeper don't appear. They're afraid the
ten minutes to twelve--mashed, it seemed, where it hit on a stone when
night, I might have thought they really believed Chris killed Marr--or

"But where's Chris?" demanded Stella, trembling.

"We have none of us seen Chris--you want to remember that. You won't
have to lie, Stella--you didn't see him. Pringle, I bank on you."


in--we'll start dinner and be taken by surprise. Pringle, throw your
But you've got to be unconcerned and unsuspicious when they first

He started a fire. Stella set about preparing dinner.

"Who brought the news?" she asked.

"Joe Cowan--and a relay. Someone rode to Jeff Isaack's ranch as fast
don't believe he'd shoot any man in the back."

"And Foy's drifted with Cowan?"

fine-toothed comb."

"How's he to get away, then?"

horse down chasing the mares. That'll let him out--maybe."

"And Foy?"



them was a horse I was leading--that'll be that bald-faced roan out in
the corral. We all want to stick to that."

know better by the tracks."

"Exactly! So they'll find a fresh-shod track going east--a track

have an interesting time if they get him."

The Major permitted himself a grin.

think, but they can't prove anything. And Foy'll be all right--if only
the posse follows the plain trail."

will hunt out the hills anyway--to-morrow, if not to-day."

"That's my idea of it," said Pringle.

a dead give-away."

"Any chance of Foy slipping out afoot?"

here. He took some jerky and canned stuff--but only one measly beer
We mustn't get hostile with the posse. Take it easy--you especially,
stranger. Maybe they'll let you go on. If you once get away--bring the

"Very pretty--but there's four men in Las Uvas that know me--and
three of them are police. Maybe they'll stay in the city though--being

along--deputized, of course. Maybe they won't be in the first batch
on your way."

strikers aren't along they've given my description. Somebody will know


"I'm used to that," said Pringle lightly. "Once, in Arizona----"



He's desperate--and he's not pleased. There's no question of surrender
under another name. They don't want to capture him anyway--they want a
chance to kill him."

"I wouldn't want the job," said Pringle.

else--the war in Europe."

The Major picked up a paper.

he asked casually.

Stealthy footsteps rustled without.

lots of 'em--biggest we can build. But that ain't all. When we make
these days."

"Stop your kidding!"

serious in my whole life. My plan is sound, statesman-like--"



coffee mill between his knees and sang a merry tune:

_"There were three little mice, playing in the barn--
Inky, dinky, doodum, day!
Though they knew they were doing what was very, very wrong--
Inky, dinky, doodum, day!
And the song of the owls, it sounded so nice
That closer and closer crept the three little mice.
And the owls came and gobbled them----"_

A shadow fell across the floor.


Chapter IV

Navajo, Pima, and Hopi enjoy seven cardinal points--north, east,
directions from the Vorhis Ranch the diligent posse comitatus made
swift and jealous search through the slow hours of afternoon. It
scattered round Big Thumb Butte and Little Thumb Butte; it rode
wrangler; a V H beef was slaughtered.

The posse was rather equally divided between two classes--simpletons
party were of those who hold that evildoing may permanently prosper
and endure.

banished to her own room and Sheriff Matt Lisner had privately told
off a man to make sure she did not escape.

prepared to meet by crushing denial an eager and indignant statement
from Pringle, adducing the Gadsden House affair and his subsequent
companying with Foy as proof positive of Foy's innocence. That no
such accusation came from Pringle set these able but mystified deniers
brow furtively.

think you're telling a pack of lies--every word of it. You know mighty
well where Foy is."

The Major's gray goatee quivered.



with Foy's foes--certain sign that other decent blockheads would do
him implicitly: Matt Lisner tells you I'm a liar--but you stumble at
that. Why? Because you think about me--that's why! Why don't you try
that plan about Foy--thinking?"

"But Foy's run away," stammered Breslin, disconcerted.

story, Foy was leaving before Marr was killed--or before you say Marr
There's where he started for, you say?"

staying there still--quietly," said the sheriff. "Foy isn't there--and
Foy's run away."

stretching his arms wide.

anon, thin scraps of talk float in from your cookfire in the yard--and
hasn't run away yet, he'd better--and I'll tell him so if I see him.
hollow-cheeked, plump, serious face?"

At this ill-timed and unthinkable levity Breslin stared in
Ben Creagan, an uneasy third inquisitor, breathed hard through his
nose. Anastacio Barela, the fourth and last inquisitor, maintained
unmoved the disinterested attitude he had held since the interrogation
smoking, listening, idly observant of wall and ceiling.

No answer being forthcoming to his query Pringle launched another:

eyed Creagan with solicitous interest.

Mr. Creagan's battered face betrayed emotion. Pringle's shameless
affect never to have seen this insolent Pringle before. The sheriff's
face mottled with wrath. Pringle reflected swiftly: The sheriff's rage
hinted strongly that he was in Creagan's confidence and hence was no
stranger to last night's mishap at the hotel; their silence proclaimed
their treacherous intent.

their persistent questionings; what they hoped for was unconscious
had long since sized him up for what the Major knew him to be--a
Anastacio, Pringle recognized an unknown quantity.

positive bit of knowledge which Pringle shared only with the murderer
murderer really was.

Duty and inclination thus happily wedded, Pringle set himself to goad
And inattentive Anastacio had a shrewd surmise at Pringle's design.
unexplained tension--and he knew his chief.

"And this man, too--what about him?" said Breslin, regarding Pringle
shielding Foy--he may even believe Foy to be innocent--why should this
stranger put himself in danger for Foy?"

"Here, now--none of that!" said Pringle with some asperity. "I may
all? What do you think I am?"



The sheriff leaped up.

"You insolent cur-dog!" he roared.

to chew,'" quoted Pringle evenly. "But he done it--old Pringle--John
Wesley Pringle--liar and cur-dog too! We'll discuss the cur-dog later.
you know I'm lying? For I am lying--I'll not deceive you. I'm lying;
head go round!"

sheriff, "was when you butted into this business."

"Yes, yes; go on. Was this to-day or yesterday--at the hotel?"


"Who said I was?"

The words cracked like a whiplash. Simultaneously Pringle's tilted
chuckle came from Anastacio. Creagan flung himself into the breach.

these stiff-necked idiots."

but trembled. "We're wasting time here."

leave my daughter be."

civil questions to Miss Vorhis--in the presence of her father, mind
you--then what?"

"But you won't!" said the Major softly.

Pringle. "We won't bother the young lady."

"Who's going to stop me?"

time unclasping his hands from behind his head.

noon. That is quite sufficient."


"This makes me fidgety. Somebody say something, quick--anything!"
begged Pringle. "All right, then; I will. Let's go back--we've dropped
away. But if bein' a cur-dog should happen to vex me--honest, Sheriff,
I'm that sensitive that I'll tell you now--not hissing or gritting or
gnashing my teeth--just telling you--the first time I meet you in a
my heart's desire!"

"You brazen hussy! You know you lied!"

mighty positive--but what are your reasons? Why don't you tell your
are not two--"

Anastacio's eyes again removed themselves from the ceiling.

"If you mean me--and somehow I am quite clear as to that--"

"I mean Mr. Breslin."

"Oh, him--of course!" said Anastacio in a shocked voice. "Breslin, by
one you had hopes of--who should that be but me? I thank you. I am

The sheriff licked his dry lips.

"If you think I am going to stay here to be insulted--"

Impossible! You'll not let me out of your sight."

particular instance--for this day and date only--I am as pure as a
never thought Foy killed Dick Marr."

"In heaven's name, why?" demanded Breslin.

here, didn't he?"

"Hey, Major--hold up!" cried Pringle. But Vorhis was not to be

Dick Marr he might have gone to any other place in the world--but he
wouldn't have come here."

before, humanly speaking, that he came this way."

killing--that you don't even suspect him of it," said Anastacio. as
people were brought along. I tagged along, though--to wait. It's one
of the best little things I do--waiting. And I came to protect Foy,
surrendered without a fight--for fear he might be killed ... escaping

Lisner threw a look of hate at his deputy.

said Breslin, staggered and aghast.

"Every danger. That's an old gag--the _ley fuga_."


you what I'll do, though--I'll slip the idea to my crowd, and any time
it up. Put it right in your little holster--put it up, I say! That's
be taken."

if anyone wants to take him--alive. Pass the word to your friends,
foreplanned murder."



This is scandalous talk. Be nice! Please--pretty please! See, here
comes some more pussy-foot posse--three, six, eleven hungry men. Have
notice, Mr. Breslin."

The horsemen rode into the corral.

"No; don't go, Sheriff," said Anastacio.

both in the back, accidentally, cleaning my gun."

appeared at the open door.


Applegate's eyes threw a startled question at his chief and at
Creagan; Espalin slipped swiftly back through the door.

"I don't know you, sir," said Applegate.

loves me!"

in with a roar.

"What in hell's going on here?" he stormed.

Applegate, meet Mr. Pringle."

other--old Nueces River, chief of police, ex-ranger, and, for this


Nueces leveled a belligerent finger at the Major.

jaw all afternoon, doing nothing!"

"Why, what did you find out?"


"Sure it was Foy's horse?" queried Lisner eagerly.

"Sure! I know the horse--that big calico horse of his."

"Why didn't you follow him up?"

there--going over to the San Andres to-night to take a big hunt
find some trace of Foy--blind fools!--till I met up with 'em. I'd done
to walk in; that's one good thing."

"But Foy--where do you figure Foy's gone?"

translated into all European languages, including the Scandinavian."


make it nice and easy for you to ride on--a six-year-old kid could see
fool us--or, more likely, he's up in the Buttes. Did you look there?"


sure of that--till I mentioned your reward. Soon as ever I mentioned
twenty-five hundred, he loosened up right smart."

"Well? Did he know where Foy was?"

least of them two buttes--the roughest one--a cave with two mouths,


"Say, is that right about that reward--twenty-five hundred?" he
whispered. His eyes glistened.

thousand, and Dick's old uncle--that would have let Dick starve or
work--he tacked on a thousand more. Dead or alive!" He looked down
at Pringle's face, at Pringle's working fingers, opening and shutting
what the old man's saying."

During the whispered colloquy the old ranger had kept on:

mile to the next water--we'd find his tracks and catch him. But he

watching an empty cave two or three days?"

natural he looks!' I been a pretty tough old bird in my day--but goin'

"Some man--some good man, too--will have to stay here and stand

Applegate--he's in bad shape for climbing anyway; bruise on his belly
big as a washpan."

get back, too."

little. This is hard lines for a girl."

Lisner shrugged his shoulders.

of trouble down on us."



They filed out to the cook's fire in the walled courtyard.



split up as soon as we got clear of town."

"You're a damn liar!"

study up some scheme to get away."

"I got a picture of you gettin' away!"

what we call in theatrical circles a practical door. Along toward

Pringle's fist flashed up and smote him grievously under the jaw;
practical door.

where the creaking windmill and the splashing of water from the supply
pipe would drown out the sound of his labored breath.

Horsemen boiled from the yard gate with uproar and hullabaloo; Pringle
their search.

the searchers straggled back, vociferous. Pringle caught scraps of
talk as they watered their horses.

"Clean getaway!"

"One bad actor, that _hombre_!"

"Regular Go-Getter!"

"Batting average about thirteen hundred, I should figger."

"Life-size he-man! Where do you suppose----"

"Saw a lad make just such another break once in Van Zandt County----"

"Say! Who're you crowdin'?"


"Applegate's pretty bad hurt."

"----in a gopher hole and near broke my fool neck."


have waited."

Creagan's voice, adding a vivid description of Pringle.

Old Nueces answered, raising his voice:


come with us. You can eat after we've gone."


"Better not stop to eat," urged Nueces.

halfway--if he's going there at all. Most likely he's had a hand in

flat--and it's only three miles to the hill. I'm goin' now, and
belly--I'm off to light a line of soap weeds on that hill so this Mr.
They're strong for Foy. Come on, you waddies!"

come up to the specifications laid down by the old ranger.

The others clanked away, leaving their horses standing. The man
Robbins grumbled from saddle to saddle and gathered canteens. As he

"Going already?" called Robbins as he passed.

Secure under cover of darkness, Pringle answered in the voice of one
who, riding, eats:

"Yes, indeedy; I ain't no hawg. Wasn't much hungry nohow!"

Chapter V

At the foot of Little Thumb Butte a lengthening semicircle of fire
flared through the night. John Wesley Pringle swung far out on the
plain to circle round it.

"This takes time," he muttered to himself, "but at least I know where
not to go. That old rip-snorter sure put a spoke in my wheel! Looks
like Foy might see them lights and drift out away from this. But he
won't, I guess--they said his hidey-hole was right on top, and the
shoulder of the hill will hide the fires from him. Probably asleep,
anyhow, thinkin' he's safe. I slep' three hours this morning at the
Major's; but Foy he didn't sleep any. Even if he did leave, they'd
track him up in the morning and get him--and he knows it. Somebody's
goin' to be awfully annoyed when he misses this horse."

He could see the riders, dim-flitting as they passed between him and
the flames. Once he stopped to listen; he heard the remaining half
of the man-hunt leaving the ranch. They were riding hard. Thereafter
Pringle had no mercy on his horse. Ride as he might, those who
followed had the inner circle; when he rounded the fires and struck
the hill his start was perilously slight. While the footing was soft
he urged the wearied horse up the slope; at the first rocky space he
abandoned the poor beast lest the floundering of shod hoofs should
betray him. He took off saddle and bridle; he hung the canteen over
his shoulder and pressed on afoot.

A light breeze had overcast the stars with thin and fleecy clouds.
This made for Pringle's safety; it also made the going harder--and it
would have been hard going by daylight.

The slope became steeper; ledges of rock, little at first, became
larger and more frequent; he came to bluffs that barred his progress,
slow and painful at best; he was forced to search to left or right
for broken places where he could climb. Bits of rock, dislodged by his
feet, fell clattering despite his utmost care; he heard the like from
below, to the left, to the right. The short night wore swiftly on.

With equal fortune John Wesley should have maintained his lead. But
he found more than his share of no-thoroughfares. Before long his
ears told him that men were almost abreast of him on each side. He
was handicapped now, because he must shun any chance meeting. His
immediate neighbors, however, had no such fear; they edged closer
and closer together as they climbed. At last, stopped against a
perpendicular wall ten feet high, he heard them creeping toward him
from both sides, with a guarded "Coo-ee!" each to the other; John
Wesley slipped down the hill to the nearest bush. His neighbors came
together and held a whispered discourse. They viewed the barrier with
marked patience, it seemed; they sat down in friendly fashion and
smoked cigarette after cigarette; the hum of their hushed voices
reached Pringle, murmuring and indistinct. It might almost be thought
that they were willing for others to precede them in the place of
honor. A faint glow showed in the east; the moon had thoughts of

After an interminable half-hour the two worthies passed on to the
right. Pringle took to the left, more swiftly. Time for caution

Book of the day: