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Updated: May 11, 2025
Live and let live, sez I, and if you'll call off your bad-men I'll agree not to talk to the sheriff." "You can talk all you wish!" snapped out Eells with rising courage, "I'm not afraid of your threats. And neither am I afraid of anything you can do to test the validity of that contract.
I'm not going to have any of this nonsense. Bear Cat's a law-abidin' place. We're all proud of it. We don't let bad-men strut around an' shoot up our citizens, an' we don't let half-grown punchers go crazy an' start hangin' folks without reason. Now do we?" A persuasive smile broke out on the harsh face and transformed it.
He was a big, two-fisted hombre, one of these Texas bad-men that was always getting drunk and starting in to clean up the town; and he had all the natives bluffed. Well, he was in the saloon one day, telling how many men he'd killed, when a little guy dropped in that had just come to town, and he seemed to take a great interest.
I'll just take my gun and go up to your father's claims and jump out that bunch of bad-men " "No! No, Denver!" she broke in very earnestly, "I don't want you to do that again. I heard last night that Dave said he would get you and if he did, why then I'd be to blame. You'd be doing it for me, and if one of those men killed you well, it would be just the same as me."
"Plenty bad-men right here in Lost Valley," said the girl quietly, "an' th' breed ain't dyin' out as I can see. Th' settlers need a new leader now that Jim Last's gone." And she fell to playing absently with her fork upon the cloth. The boys changed the subject hurriedly. "I found a dead brandin' fire in th' Cup Rim yesterday, Burt," said Masters, "quite a scrabbled space around it.
So you can call off your bad-men and your murdering Apache Indians, because there's no use following me now. Thinking about taking a little trip for my health." He paused expectantly but Judson Eells was too shocked to make any proper response. His world was tumbling about him, all his plans had come to naught and Lynch was gone.
Local tradition held that, at some far-distant period, the place had been occupied by a camp of half-breed "bad-men" who worked their evil trade upon the south side of the American border, and sought security in the shelter of this perfect hiding-place. Be that as it may, it was now the abode of George Iredale, rancher.
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