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"What deviltry you up to now, Dud?" Blister inquired. "Me?" The young puncher looked at him with a bland face of innocence. "Why, Blister, you sure do me wrong." Dud sauntered to the hitching-rack, easy, careless, graceful. He selected a horse and threw the rein over its head. The preacher was just abreast of the hotel. The puncher swung to the saddle and brought the pony round.
A moment or two later they stopped before the dingy, weather-beaten building on the corner. Two horses fretted at the hitching-rack, and on the steps lounged a man in regulation cow-boy garb. A cigarette dangled from one corner of his mouth, and as the two halted he glanced up from the newspaper he was reading. "Hardenberg?" he repeated in answer to the question. "Yuh mean the sheriff?
Women put their heads out for a moment, plucked curtains aside for one swift survey, vanished behind the safety of walls. At the hitching-rack the two men one of them Tom Hargus, the other unknown stood beside their horses, as if in position according to a previous plan. "We want that man," said Hargus, his hand hovering over his gun. "Come and take him," Lambert invited.
Doubtless it was of this that he was thinking, as he leaned pensively against the town hitching-rack and gingerly chewed the blade of wire-grass which dangled even below the chin whiskers that had been with him for twenty years. The faraway expression in his watery-blue eyes gave evidence that he was as great reminiscently as he was personally.
Presently they turned into a street of stores which delivered them finally to a hitching-rack at the end of a walk leading up to the steps of the court-house. The Professor, it devolved upon inquiry, was busy just at present, but if the young lady would step up to his room he would give her an examination shortly. Steve, being thus left to himself, went outside again.
If they would tell her where Gordon was, they might go free for all she cared; if they would not, she would give them over to the vengeance of Crawling Water, and she would not worry about what might happen to them. Meanwhile she thanked her lucky stars that Trowbridge had promised to keep a man at the big pine. She tied her pony at the hitching-rack in front of the hotel and entered the office.
He saw Allison, and Goodwin, and others of that stamp, who went out of their way to profess friendship for him; but Marcy never lingered long in their company until one day when they followed him to the hitching-rack, after he had secured his mail, to warn him that he had better have an eye on that man Kelsey, who meant harm to him.
There appeared in the light of the hotel door for a moment the figures of struggling men, followed by the sound of feet in flight down the steps, and somebody mounting a horse in haste at the hotel hitching-rack. Whoever this was rode away at a hard gallop. Lambert knew that the battle was over, and as he came to the hitching-rack he saw that Taterleg's horse was still there. So he had not fled.
Among those who were glad to get away from the sound of his voice were Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin, who went across the road to the hitching-rack, and had time to do a little talking between themselves before Marcy came out. "Did you ever hear a fellow go on as Ben Hawkins did?" whispered Tom, who had not yet recovered from his fright.
You re home, old boy, and presently you can have a drink of water you'll remember." In the voice Jane knew the rider to be Venters. He tied Wrangle to the hitching-rack and turned to the court. "Oh, Bern!... You wild man!" she exclaimed. "Jane Jane, it's good to see you! Hello, Lassiter! Yes, it's Venters." Like rough iron his hard hand crushed Jane's. In it she felt the difference she saw in him.
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