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It seemed to him that he had glimpsed something moving at the top of the cliffs just about the place whence Blenham's men had lowered the steers. He asked no question but threw up his gun-barrel and fired again.
If you're a dead game sport Well, that's what I'd rather be than anything else you can put a name to. Lace your boots, get into a hat, shove that in your pocket." And she slipped the roll of bills into his hand. "By now dad and Blenham will be on the road to Red Creek; we'll beat them to it, have a lawyer and some papers all ready, and when they show up we'll just take dad out of Blenham's hands."
He gave it to Bill Royce to keep for me. You know all that Bill has stood from Blenham; now you know why. There's quite a load of scoundrelism dumped off at Blenham's door. And, thanks to you, we've got the dead wood on him at last!" "What are you goin' to do with him?" Barbee, speaking for the first time since Steve's entrance, was husky-voiced.
There ain't enough there for a man to steal," he added reassuringly. "How do you know it's Blenham's? If he told you that he had lost it he'd have told you where. What's the answer; where did I pick this up?" "Blenham didn't say he los' nothin'. But I know it's his because he got most of them bills from me."
"If hats are sellin' ten dollars or under?" ventured Hodges. Packard affected to look surprised. "What do you know about how much is in this roll?" he demanded innocently. "One-dollar bills?" said Hodges. "Ten of 'em?" "You don't look like a mind-reader." "Well, you're right about the wad bein' Blenham's. Leave it with me, if you want. I'll see he gets it.
Blenham's, since after it came Bill Royce's laugh. Another blow, fresh pounding and scraping of boots blow on top of blow, curse on top of curse a man falling heavily Who was down? Royce of Blenham? "Bill!" called Packard. "Bill!" No answer save that of two big bodies rolling together on the floor. Both were down, Royce and Blenham. Both were fighting, wordless and infuriated. Who was on top?
"He's been a pretty decent scout from the jump," Terry admitted serenely to herself as she threw her car into high and went streaking through the pale moonlight. Then she smiled, the first quick smile to come and go since she had hurled a book in Blenham's face. "A pretty decent scout from the jump!" He had literally jumped into her life, going after her quite as though
But his eyes were frowning thoughtfully. What would be Blenham's next move? What would Blenham do, what would he say when Hodges gave him Packard's message? Might he, in an unguarded moment, give a hint toward the answer of that other question which now had become the only consideration: "Were the larger banknotes still hidden at Ranch Number Ten or had Blenham already removed them?"
And in that instant, while all three stood motionless, Terry saw and wondered at a look of understanding which had flashed between her own father and the despised representative of a hated race. Further she noted how the glass in Temple's hand was still lifted, as was the glass in Blenham's, the whiskey still undrunk, winking at her in the pale lamplight.
Unless Blenham, with all of the guile of him uppermost, knew that that shot fired between the two would send them flying at each other's throats, ending all parley and bringing about unthinkable tragedy. Blenham had his own reasons for what he did; certainly it would fit in with Blenham's plans to see the hand of a Packard set against a Packard. But she had not thought to have him seize her.
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