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"Depends on how many in the outfit and what they know," said Pan. "Hardman's men sure knew we weren't well heeled for a shooting scrape." "Pard, are you goin' to let them ride right into camp?" queried Blinky, hard faced and keen. "I guess not," replied Pan bluntly. "Rifle shot is near enough. They might pretend to be friendly till they got to us. But we'll sure fool them."
Her companion, clasping her suddenly for support, had, overcome with emotion, fainted in her arms! From that day Mrs Hardman forbore all allusion to her lost son. That summer went by, and grief had made such inroads on Mrs Hardman's mind, that her health gradually declined. Catherine also was weaker than she had ever been for a continuance previous to her last illness.
It was gutted, but the bucket brigade saved the houses on each side.... Hardman's body was found burned to a crisp. It was identified by a ring. An' his dance-hall girl was found dead too, burned most as bad as he.... Accordin' to Evans most everybody in Marco wants to shake hands with Panhandle Smith." The covered wagons wound slowly down the hill toward Snyder's pasture.
An' when he looked up he seen somethin', you can bet on thet.... Wal, Purcell is one man in Hardman's outfit we'll have to kill.... Gus will back me up on thet." "I shore will. Purcell's a Nevada claim jumper, accordin' to talk. Somebody hinted he belonged to thet Plummer gang thet was cleaned out at Bannock years ago. He's no spring chicken, thet's shore."
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 shore gamble he's one of Hardman's outfit now, same as Purcell." "Reckon he was. But he got fired."
One moment's consideration showed them the worst a future of hopeless despair. Hardman's love was, then, a mere fitful passion, lit up by Catherine's former surpassing beauty. Upon her face and form, with their matchless loveliness, his fancy had fed since his banishment; his imagination, rather than his heart, had kept her image constantly before him.
"Well, what then?" queried Pan sharply. "Drive 'em right in heah where Hardman's outfit will be waitin'!" "My God, man," flashed Pan hotly. "Such a thing couldn't happen." "Wal, it just could," drawled Blinky, "an' we couldn't do a damn thing but fight." "Fight?" repeated Pan passionately. The very thought of a contingency such as Blinky had suggested made the hot red blood film his eyes.
Did Jay Hardman's interest in Leroy have its source merely in their being birds of a feather, or was there a more direct community of lawlessness between them? Was he a member of Wolf Leroy's murderous gang? Three men had joined in the chase of Dailey, but the tracks had told him that only two horses had galloped from the scene of the murder into the night.
It jest didn't come, though, till tonight." "Thanks, Mac," returned Pan, extending his hand to the outlaw. "I wasn't afraid to trust you... Hardman's playing a high hand, then?" "Reckon he is, an' thet's a hunch." "All right, Mac. I'm thinking you're square with me," replied Pan. After the outlaw left, Pan sat on his bed pondering this latest aspect of the situation.
If there were any real fighting men on Hardman's side Pan would recognize them in a single glance. He was an unknown quantity to them, that most irritating of newcomers to a wild place, the man with a name preceding him. Pan came abreast of the building that he was seeking. It was part stone and part adobe, heavily and crudely built, with no windows on the side facing him.
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