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McCay, fighting against the weakness that threatened to overcome him, turned with a smile, grim and terrible. "I'm goin' out there," he said, "to take some of those devils with me!" In vain Kid Wolf and Tip attempted to restrain him. The old man waved them back. "I'm done for, anyway," he said. "I haven't got ten minutes to live. What if they do fill me with lead?
As to what effect the setting sun has, I must wait for the evening to decide, though I always enjoy that. At Greenwell, we used to walk a mile away from home to see the sun set in an open field. I find Mrs. McCay an excellent, plain old lady, with neither airs nor pretentions, and very kind-hearted.
The blow was enough to fell an ox, and the rustler chief went hurtling through the door, carried off his feet completely. What happened then was one of those ironies of fate. The rope on which Hardy had hanged the McCay spy, George Durham, still hung before the door, its noose swaying in the wind some five feet from the ground. Hardy hit it.
I don't know who you are, but the fact that yuh were fightin' 'em is enough fer me. I know yo're all right." "Thanks, sheriff," said the Texan. "I'm leavin' Mr. Tip McCay heah to tell yo' ouah story, if yo'll excuse me fo' a while." "Where yuh goin', Kid?" demanded young McCay, astonished. "To Midway," drawled the Texan, swinging himself into Blizzard's saddle.
Then there was a sudden lull. "Look out now!" The Kid exclaimed. "Looks like they mean to rush us!" "We'll cure 'em o' that!" Old Beef McCay cried grimly. He picked up the sawed-off shotgun. The Texan was right. A yell went up from the saloon, and a dozen men rushed out, firing as they came. Six others carried a heavy beam, evidently torn from the interior of the Idle Hour.
'Oh, no, said the paragon modestly. 'Have another cigar? Archibald, as he had stated to McCay, was engaged to a Miss Milsom Miss Margaret Milsom. How few men, dear reader, are engaged to girls with svelte figures, brown hair, and large blue eyes, now sparkling and vivacious, now dreamy and soulful, but always large and blue! How few, I say. You are, dear reader, and so am I, but who else?
She's going to spend the summer at Cape Pleasant, Archie tells me. 'Then she'll have a chance of seeing him play in the championship competition. McCay sucked his cigar in silence for a while, watching with dreamy eyes the blue smoke as it curled ceiling-ward. When he spoke his voice was singularly soft.
"Got me son!" the cattleman jerked out. Quickly the Texan tore away his shirt. He did not have to examine the wound to see how deadly it was; one glance was enough. Shot a few inches under the heart, McCay was dying on his feet. "I'm done all right," he grunted. "Listen, Tip. And you, Kid Wolf. I know yo're a true-blue friend. I want yuh to recover those cattle, if yuh ever get out of here alive.
He had planned carefully, expecting to have no difficulty in wiping out the hated McCays and those who sympathized with them. His plans had only partially succeeded. The elder McCay was dead, but Tip and some of the others had slipped through his clutches. To have the McCay faction wiped out of Midway forever meant money and power to him. And now his job was only half finished.
On the horizon they made out the feathery tops of trees against the sky, and riding closer, they could see a dark mass bunched up around them little dots straying out at the edges. It was the stolen McCay herd! No general on the field of battle planned more carefully than the Texan. The party came closer, warily and making no noise. As they did so, they could hear the bawling of the cattle.
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