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"I reckon I better certify my suspicions, seh, before I go to shouting them out." "All right, sir. Since I'm paying the shot, it ought to entitle me to some confidence. But it's up to you. Get back the twenty thousand dollars, that's all I ask, except that you put the fellow behind the bars of the penitentiary for a few years." Flatray gave him an odd smile which he did not understand.
The man had his back to him. He had dismounted, and was tightening the cinches of his saddle. Flatray experienced a pang of disappointment. He was unarmed. His second thought sent him flying noiselessly back to his horse. Deftly he unloosed the rope which always hung coiled below the saddle horn.
He was not in love with her in any legitimate sense; but he knew now that, if he could see her no more, life would be a savorless thing, at least until his fancy had spent itself. Moreover, her presence at Dead Man's Cache would be a safeguard. With her in his power, Lee and Flatray, the most persistent of his hunters, would not dare to move against the outlaws.
You keep along the right one, Flatray. Me, I'll take the center. That's right." They rode forward cautiously. Once Flatray spoke. "By the tracks there has been a lot of cattle down here on the jump recently." "That's what," Tim agreed. Flatray swung from his saddle and stooped over the body lying at the bend of the wash.
Not many people were on the streets when the sheriff passed through the suburbs of the little town, for it was about the breakfast hour. One stout old negro mammy stopped to stare in surprise at his bloody head. "Laws a mussy, Mistah Flatray, what they done be'n a-doin' to you-all?" she asked. The sheriff hardly saw her. He was chewing the bitter cud of defeat and was absorbed in his thoughts.
On the other hand, he fitted very badly with the character of the young lieutenant of rangers, as Jack Flatray had sketched it for her. Her friend's description of his hero had been enthusiastic. She decided that the young cattleman was a bad judge of men though, of course, he had never actually met O'Connor. "I reckon I'll not wait for your father's report, Miss Lee.
"It's all arranged," Melissy answered in a whisper. Flatray laughed harshly. "I guess not. You can't pay my debts by giving yourself to life-long misery." "You're right pessimistic, sheriff," sneered MacQueen. "What do you take me for? I won't have it. I won't have it." The sheriff's voice was rough and hoarse. "I'd rather die fifty times."
MacQueen cut in suavely: "I reckon this is the time for announcements. Boys, Miss Lee has promised to marry me." Before the stir which this produced had died away, Flatray flashed a question: "In exchange for my life?" The chief of the outlaws looked at him with insolence smoldering in his black eyes. "Now, I wonder when you ever will learn to mind your own business, sheriff!
Then he went forward and looked down at him. "I reckon that ends Black MacQueen," he said quietly. "And I reckon Melissy Lee is a widow." Jack Flatray had met O'Connor at his own office and the two had come down to the station on the off chance that MacQueen might try to make his getaway from Mesa in some disguise.
A story which was being whispered about reached her ears and increased this. A bunch of his sheep had been found poisoned on their feeding ground, and certain cattle interests were suspected of having done the dastardly thing. When she could stand the silence no longer Melissy called up Jack Flatray on the telephone at Mesa. "You caught me just in time.
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