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Fendrick spoke harshly. A dull anger against the scheme of things burned in him. For somehow he had reached an impasse from which there was neither advance nor retreat. "No. Well, you're right there. What I don't know about sheep would fill several government reports. Of course I've got ideas. One of them is " "I don't care anything about your ideas. Are you going to sign this relinquishment?"
They heard him to an end without interruption. Then Curly spoke one word. "Fendrick." "Yes, sir, Cass Fendrick. Came in about one o'clock and handed me the relinquishment just as I've been telling you." "Then filed on the claim himself, you said." "Yes, took it up himself." "Sure the signature to the relinquishment was genuine?" "I'd take oath to it.
You haven't even proved he took Mr. Cullison's hat; you've merely showed he may have done it." "We've given you a motive and some evidence. How much more do you want?" Curly demanded. "Hold your hawses a while, Flandrau, and look at this thing reasonable. You're all prejudiced for Cullison and against Fendrick. Talk about evidence!
I notice there's liable to be trouble between Fendrick and the cattle interests over his sheep," the reader answered casually. "Yep. Between Fendrick and Cullison, anyhow." Stone had reclaimed and pocketed his time table. Incidentally Flandrau's doubt had been converted into a lively suspicion. Presently he took a gun, and strolled off to shoot birds.
"Don't you see?" the girl explained, her eyes shining with excitement. "Father took the wrong hat. You know how absent-minded he is sometimes." Mackenzie slapped his knee. "I'll bet a stack of blues you've guessed it." "There's a way to make sure," Curly said. "I don't get you." "Fendrick couldn't wear Mr. Cullison's hat around without the risk of someone remembering it later.
Cass Fendrick, C. F. Ranch, Arizona. The room that had been assigned to him was 212. "Anything you want in particular, Lieutenant?" the clerk asked. "No-o. Just looking to see who came in to-day." He turned away and went up the stairs, ignoring the elevator. On the second floor he found 212. In answer to his knock a voice said "Come in."
Shaw confirmed exactly what Fendrick had said. He produced a sealed envelope. Within this was a sheet of paper, upon which were written two lines. Box 2143 is to be opened only by Sheriff Bolt or Lieutenant Bucky O'Connor of the Rangers, and before witnesses. From the safety-deposit vault Bucky drew a large package wrapped in yellow paper.
Fendrick decided to take a chance. At the worst he could turn them both free and leave for Sonora. "All right. I'll take you to him. But you'll have to do as I say." "Yes," she agreed. "I'm taking you to back my play. I tell you straight that Blackwell would like nothing better than to put a bullet through your father. But I've got a hold on the fellow that ties him. He's got to do as I say.
From this he shrank with every instinct. Fendrick was a hard man. He would have fought it out to a finish if necessary. But murder was a thing he could not do. He had never discussed the matter with Blackwell. The latter had told him of this retreat in the mountains and they had brought their prisoner here. But the existence of the prospect hole at the foot of the Devil's Slide was unknown to him.
"You sign the relinquishment and agree not to make us any trouble because we brought you here, and you may go by two o'clock." "You want to reach Saguache with the relinquishment in time to file it before I could get to a 'phone. You don't trust me." Fendrick smiled. "When we let you go we're trusting you a heap more than we would most men.
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