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The look of scorn which passed over Stacy's face was quite as distinct as Demorest's previous protest, as he said contemptuously, "I'm not such a fool as to mix up petticoats with my business, whatever I do." "Well, one thing more. I have told you that in my opinion the forger has a commercial education or style, that he doesn't know me nor Barker, and don't understand slang.
The Indian agent watched him curiously for a moment; then he rose and followed quickly after Tad. "That boy is either a fool which I don't think or else he doesn't know the meaning of the word 'fear." Tad did not find Stacy's pony where he had expected. Indian ponies were tethered all about, singly and in groups, while here and there one was left to graze where it would.
He seemed powerless to move. He had been deeply affected by the scenes he had seen; but this was different. The lad held his breath. Reaching the edge of the pit, Stacy's pony rose in the air, clearing the bed of coals in a long, curving leap. Two red men had just risen from their fiery bath. The hind hoofs of the pony caught and bowled them over. "Run to the camp and get help! Take my pony!
He gave Tad a gentle nudge, which was returned with a soft pressure on Stacy's right arm as a warning that he was to remain quiet. "Do you know what the treasure consists of?" "Maybe a mine, but as near as I could draw from Marquand's talk it is jewels and Spanish money which one of the old Franciscan monks had buried.
Stacy's pony landed fairly in the center of a bunch of half-clothed savages; some of whom went down under the pony when it landed on them so unexpectedly. The next instant the fat boy had been jerked from the animal's back, to which he was clinging desperately. With a yell the redskins hurled him toward the fire. But the force of the throw had not been quite strong enough.
"Come over here, I want to talk with you." They stepped off a few paces out of hearing of the others, Tad smiling to himself as he observed Stacy's act. "Well, what's the matter, Chunky?" "I can lick you, Ned Rector!" "Wha what?" "Said I could lick you. Didn't say I was going to, understand. Just said I could " "Like to see you try it." "All right; it's a go."
The ex-foreman fell, part way. The stirrup caught his left foot as his head went into the sand. Stacy's horse reared back, started to run, then stopped and waited patiently for its master who would never rise. There was feasting at the S Bar hacienda. The table was heavily laden with dishes once full of delicious viands but now empty. The men, five in all, had brought out their "makin's."
He had intended to be stern, but the sight of Chunky's good-natured face disarmed him at once, as it did most people. "'Bout what?" asked the lad. "Sending us out to the foothills, telling us the cowmen were attacking us." Stacy's eyes opened widely. "Never said so." "What did you say, then?" "Nothing." "I guess we are all dreaming," laughed the rancher.
The sun seemed to put a humorous twinkle into Stacy's glance as he returned, "Not much! And you'd better take my revolver with you, too. I'm feeling a little better now," he said, looking at the saddlebags, "but I'm not fit to be trusted yet with carnal weapons. When the other mule comes and is packed I'll overtake you on the horse."
He hesitated to call, knowing that if Tad Butler were still asleep at that hour of the day it was because he was tired out and needed rest badly. Ned strode over to Stacy's tent. "Wake up," he commanded, pinching one of the fat boy's big-toes. "Get out," mumbled Stacy sleepily, at the same time kicking viciously with the disturbed foot. Thus encouraged, Ned pulled the other big-toe.
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