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"Well," he said, "I don't want to scare no women; but all the same I'm goin' to see the inside of every room in this house. S'pose you knock and tell that lady to fix herself up so's she won't mind my takin' a look in. I'm goin' to make mighty sure her name ain't McHale." Clyde opened the door, and walked into the room. She was surprised to find that she was not in the least frightened.
"This batty Swede tried to ride over me," Lewis replied. "I give him fair warnin', and then I downed his horse. When he hits the dirt he goes on the prod. These fellers pulled him off of me. That one's got my gun." "You bet I have!" McHale interjected. "You tried to plug Oscar. I seen you cut down on him at about ten feet and miss.
"It's this way," McHale explained. "This Cross is one of a bad bunch. They'll be out for my scalp. They don't want no law in this. I been hearin' 'bout Cross and this old-timer, Dade. They're great tillikums, and Dade is the old he-coon of the bunch. I ain't takin' a chance on some little tin-starred deputy standin' them off.
"He's got his chance," said Dade. "It's up to him." Young McCrae launched a string of epithets at him, the cream of the vocabularies of certain mule skinners of his acquaintance. Meanwhile his finger itched on the trigger. "You're a durn poor persuader," said McHale. "The kid will stick. Far's I'm concerned, if you want me, come and get me. Don't show your hide no more.
"Me and Cross is partners has been for years. I'm out to get McHale, and you can send him word. I reckon he ain't here, or he'd be obvious." "He'd be mighty obvious," Casey agreed. "I may as well tell you, Mr. Dade, that this feud business makes me tired. It's sinful, and, worse than that, it's out of date. You take notice, now, that we won't stand for it.
Be a good friend, do. Promise! Also you are to say nothing to Kitty." "Afraid of being jollied?" "Mr. Wade, you are impertinent!" But her eyes laughed at him. "I'll keep your dark secret," said Wade. "It will be a joke on Kitty!" And so Casey Dunne was left in ignorance. Tom McHale ambled into Coldstream one afternoon, and dropped his pony's reins behind the station.
Sandy filled it, and held a match to the load. McHale puffed great smoke clouds into the darkness. "Tobacco's sure a fine anæsthetic. She beats chloroform and tooth jerkers' gas. And now, kid, you git!" "Do what?" "Make a get-away. Hike. Leak out o' this. You can do it in the dark just as easy as a weasel." "Say," said Sandy, "you didn't get hit alongside the head, too, did you?" "Not yet.
They leave about the same time, and chances is they make for it. Then they meet. That's easy. Then we find the moccasin track. That fits McCrae. Next we find a lean-to with a two-man bough bed. There's the hollows where two men lay. That helps prove our first guess. It shows that some one was with McCrae, and the only other man hidin' out is McHale." "But there are other bough beds.
"I'm just going to make him stay where he is." "Let me," said McHale, and fired as he spoke. Farwell's revolver answered. They emptied the guns in the darkness; but as one shot high by accident and the other low by design, no damage ensued. The camp, aroused by the shooting, buzzed like a hornet's nest. Lights appeared everywhere.
"There'll be enough to keep you busy," said Casey grimly. And apparently in instant fulfilment of the prophecy came the short, decisive bark of a six-shooter. By the sound, the shot had been fired outside the camp, in the direction of the gate. "It's that cuss that held us up!" snarled McHale, and swore viciously. Both men went up into their saddles as if catapulted from the earth.
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