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The fact that he was an ex-convict would be in itself a damning thing in case the courts ever had to pass upon the feud's results. The conviction on the records against him would make a second conviction very much easier. "You're right, Bob. Dave won't let Dug's crowd run him out. But you keep an eye on him. Don't let him go out alone nights. See he packs a gun." "Packs a gun!"
I expect Dug's waitin' till he thinks we're all asleep except the night tower," whispered the man who had been left in charge by Hart. "Dave, you better relieve the boys at the arroyo," suggested Bob. "Fireworks soon now, I expect." Sanders crept through the heavy chaparral to the liveoaks above the arroyo, snaking his way among cactus and mesquite over the sand.
Jeff's monosyllable brought Dug's gaze swiftly in his direction. The next moment they were looking squarely into each other's eyes, and, as far as Jeff was concerned, Peters was entirely forgotten. "Will you tell me all you know of this woman?" Jeff said, after a moment. "I guess it'll be necessary before we're through." "Sure. That's how I figgered."
"Dug's payin' off to-day, boys," Russell told them. "You'll find him round to the Boston Emporium." The foreman settled first with Hart, after which he, turned to the page in his pocket notebook that held the account of Sanders. "You've drew one month's pay. That leaves you three months, less the week you've fooled away after the pinto." "C'rect," admitted Dave.
Just behind stood the rough shanty, which was the bunkhouse for the cowhands employed in this region. The doctor was still within, tending the grievously injured man who had been so badly wounded in the previous night's raid by the rustlers. For the time Dug's beaming eyes were shadowed with a concern that was half angry and wholly depressed.
I just don't fancy going a small bit. But I daren't refuse Dug McFarlane. He's one of the biggest men around, and I'll need all the friends I can round up. There's another thing. I've got it back of my mind later on to form a Trust amongst the growers, and Dug's a most important concern in such a scheme. I'd be crazy to refuse. Why, I just couldn't refuse anyway.
Wal, if I know a man from a seam-squirrel, I'd sure say Dug's got more savee in his whiskers than you got dirt which is some. If I got things right, this night's sittin's goin' to put paid to the Lightfoot gang's account. I'd be glad to say the same of one or two scores three bums have lately run up right here." The offensiveness of his manner left the men quite undisturbed.
"Follow it down and it'll take you right into the location where Steelman is drillin'," explained Bob. "Dug's gonna lead his gang up the arroyo to the mesquite here, sneak down on us, and take our camp with a rush. At least, that's what he aims to do. You can't always tell, as the fellow says." "What's up above?" "A dam. Steelman owns the ground up there.
Dug figures to capture our camp without firin' a shot. And he'd 'a' done it, too, if we hadn't had warnin'." Sanders frowned, his mind busy over the plan. "It ought to work, unless something upsets it," he said. "Sure it'll work. You darned old fox, I never did see yore beat. Say, if we pull this off right, Dug's gonna pretty near be laughed outa the county." "Keep it quiet.
Jeff was curious to hear about him. "Who is this Peters, anyway?" he demanded. "He's not down in the stock register, and nobody seems to have found him except you." Dug's reply came with a great laugh. His very bright gray eyes were full of a good humor beneath his pronounced black brows. "Peters? Why, I guess Peters 'ud make a funeral procession laff. You've never seen him? You don't know him?
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