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"And so Hardy hanged himself!" the sheriff from Limping Buffalo ejaculated, when he could find his voice. "Well, I must say that saves me the trouble o' doin' it! But there's some reward comin' to yuh, Mr. Wolf." The Texan smiled. "Divide it between Scotty, Caldwell, and White," he drawled. "And, Tip, heah's the ten thousand Mistah Hahdy donated.
"When I spoke of a spy, I meant that Durham is there to see if he can find out why Jack Hardy has imported those gunmen, and what he plans to do. Yuh see, I'm a cattle buyer. At this halfway point I buy lots o' herds from owners who don't wish to drive 'em through to Dodge. Then I sell 'em there at a profit when I can." "And Jack Hahdy?" drawled the Texan.
"Guess I was right," he murmured, "when I said it was on the books fo' Hahdy to die by the rope!" Cattle were approaching Midway on the Chisholm Trail hundreds of them, bawling, milling, and pounding dust clouds into the air with their sharp hoofs. The Texan, watching the dark-red mass of them, smiled. McCay cattle, those! And there was a woman in Dodge City who was cared for now Tip's mother.
"Looks like a clean sweep has been made of the Hahdy gang except Hahdy himself. I reckon I'll ride in and get him, so's to make the pahty complete." "Hardy!" the officer ejaculated. "I want that malo hombre and mighty bad, dead or alive!" "Let us go along!" burst out Tip. "No," laughed the Texan quietly. "Yo' boys have had enough dangah and excitement fo' one day, not includin' yestahday.
He was still seated at the card table, laying out a game of solitaire, when the swinging doors of the saloon opened quietly. The first inkling Hardy had of a stranger's presence, however, was the soft drawl of a familiar voice: "Good mohnin', Mistah Hahdy! Enjoyin' a little game o' cahds?" Hardy's body remained stiff and rigid for a breathless moment, frozen with surprise.
"Fo'teen thousand two hundred dollahs," he announced finally. "The odd fo' thousand, two hundred will go to the families of the men yo' murdahed yestahday. And now, Mistah Jack Hahdy, my personal business with yo' will be " He did not finish. The door of the little office had suddenly opened, and Tucumcari Pete stood in the entrance!
I'd rathah settle this little business with Jack Hahdy alone. Yo' drive the cattle on and meet me latah." And lifting his hand in farewell, The Kid touched his white charger with the spur. In a few minutes he was a tiny spot on the horizon, bound for the lair of Jack Hardy, the rustler king.
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