The Man From Bar-20 by Clarence E. Mulford (best books to read for young adults .txt) đ
- Author: Clarence E. Mulford
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A coyote might have heard him moving, but th task was beyond human ears; and after a few minutes he stopped suddenly and sniffed. The faint odor of a fire told him that he was getting close to a camp, and a moment later a distant flare lit up the treetops in the canyon proper. Looking down he noticed the buckle of his belt, thought that it was too bright, and wrapped a bandanna handkerchief around it. Slipping the sixshooter into its holster he moved forward again, bent over, going swiftly and silently, his feet avoiding twigs, branches, and pebbles as though he had eyes in his toes. Rounding the southern Twin he melted into the darkness at the side of a bowlder and peered cautiously over the rock.
A great, crackling fire sent its flames towering high in the air from a little clearing at the lower end of a path which went up the side of the butte and became lost in the darkness. Examining the scene with shrewd, keen, and appraising eyes, he waited patiently. A burst of fire darted from the top of the northern Twin and a strange voice jeered softly in the distance. From the top of the southern butte came an answering jeer in a voice which he instantly recognized.
âTreed, by G-d!â he chuckled gleefully. âReckon heâll be tickled to see me. Wonder how long heâs been up there?â
A piece of wood curved into the circle of illumination and landed on the blazing fire, sending a stream of sparks soaring up the mesa wall.
âThereâs Number Two,â soliloquized Luke cheerfully, âfeedinâ thâ fire anâ watchinâ thâtrail. Cuss him for a fool I Some of them sparks will get loose, an I hell will be a nice, quiet place compared to this canyon. Well, now I got to rustle around anâ locate âem all; anâ this ainât no place or time for no shootinâ, neither.â
Half an hour later Fleming tossed more wood on the fire and settled back to fight mosquitoes. A glittering streak shot through the air and he crumpled without a sound. A shadow moved and a silent form wriggled through the brush and among the bowlders and retrieved the knife, took the dead manâs weapons and wriggled back again. It slipped noiselessly across the canyon, searched along the base of the northern Twin, found the wide, up-slanting trail and flitted along it, pausing frequently to look, sniff, and listen. Reaching the top of the butte, it wriggled from bowlder to bowlder, ridge to ridge, systematically covering every foot of the plateau, and steadily working nearer the southern rim.
Holbrook yawned, stretched, and yawned again. He picked up his rifle and scowled into the canyon, where the fire engaged his critical attention.
âThat lazy cuss is lettinâ it burn too low,â he growled. âWonder if heâs asleep!â He laughed and shook his head. âNope; donât believe even Art could sleep down there, with them mosquitoes pesterinâ him. This suits me, right herelâ
He looked around uneasily. âI do so much layinâ around out here in daytime that I canât sleep nights,â he grumbled, not willing to admit that he felt uneasy. âFunny how a manâs nerres will get hummlnâ when heâs on a job like this. It shore is monotonous.â Looking around agdn, he shifted so that he could see part of the mesa top behind him, and tried to shake off the premonition of evil which persisted in haunting him.
âHow many cows you thieves sold so far?â called a voice from the other buttc.
âNowhere near as many as weâre goinâ to get,â retorted Holbrook, laughing. âChanginâ yore mind?â he jeered.
âNot me; I wouldnât work with no teethinâ infants. Iâd rather work alone. I associates with men, I do.â
âYouâll âsociate with dead men purty soon,â sneered Holbrook. âWe got you just where weââ the words choked into a gurgle and a lean, vague figure moved slowly forward from behind a ridge,
âWhatâs thâ matter?â ironically demanded the man on the southern Twin. âSwaller yore cigarette? Thatâs a good thing. You want to practice swallerinâ hot things because tomorrow yoâre goinâ to swaller a snub-nosed Special.â Pausing, Johnny waited expectantly for an answer, but receiving none, he grunted cheerfully. âAll râght; go to blazes!â
The fire burned lower and lower and Johnny became suspicious. If the rustler on the other butte hoped to keep him engaged in snappy conversation when the fire grew low, there was no telling what the man in the canyon might do; so he crept to the top of the trail and peered down it, scanning the wall intently, half expecting to glimpse some swift, shadowy movement; but his alertness was not rewarded.
âWonder how long Hoppy or Red would loaf on a game like this,â he grinned, âif they was down there! But there ainât many of their breed runninâ around.â
An hour passed and the fire was a mass of glowing embers, now and then relieved by a spasmodic burst of flame, which flickered up and died. Across the little clearing a shadowy form moved slowly backward, chuckling softly. If there were any more rustlers around, one of them certainly would have investigated why the fire was allowed to die; and Luke felt quite confident that he had accounted for all of them who were in the vicinity. Still, he argued, nothing was a certainty which depended upon circumstantial evidence, and he did not relax his caution as he moved away.
Johnny, straining his eyes in trying to discover signs of enemies on the trail, suddenly stiffened, listening eagerly with every nerve taut. Again came the voice, barely audible. Moving to the outer edge of the butte he peered over cautiously, well knowing that he could see nothing.
âTell Red his pants wear well!â floated up to him out of the canyon.
Johnny moved a little and leaned farther over after a glance at the black sky assured him that he would not be silhouetted for a marksman below.
ââ Does William, Junior, chew tobacco?â âpersisted the whisper.
Johnny wriggled back and sat bolt upright, incredulous, doubting his senses. âWhat thâ devil!â he muttered. âAm I loco?â
ââWe was scared heâd die,ââ continued the canyon.
Taking another good look down the threatening trail, Johnny wriggled to the edge and again looked down.
ââ Pete paid Red thâ eight dollars,â âsaid the chasm, a little louder and with a note of irritation.
âWho thâ devil are you?â demanded Johnny loudly.
âNot so loud. Luke Tedrue,â whispered the darkness. âHow many of them skunks are around here?â
âYoâre a liar!â retorted Johnny angrily. âAnâ a fool!â
âGo to thâ devil!â snapped the canyon.
âCome around in daylight anâ Iâll send you to him!â growled Johnny. âThink Iâm a fool?â
There was no answer, and, fearful of a trick, Johnny wriggled back to his snug cover at the head of the trail, finding that the fire had become only a dull, red mass of embers which gave out almost no light.
âYou shore got me guessinâ,â he grumbled; âbut I reckon mebby Iâm guessinâ purty good, at that You just try it, cuss you!â
Luke explored the canyon again to make assurance doubly sure, and again approached the great wall.
ââDoes William, Junior, chew tobacco? ââ he demanded.
Johnny squirmed, but remained where he was. âYou canât fool me!â he shouted peevishly.
âReckon not; yoâre as wise as a jackass, a dead one,â said Luke. âYou stubborn fool, listen to this: âDonât look for no word from me. Iâm goinâ west, to try it from back of Twin Buttes. Theyâve drove me out.â The voice was plainer now. âHow many of âem are out here?â
Johnny grinned suddenly, for in the increase in the power of the voice he recognized a friend.
âHello, Luke, you old skunk!â he called, laughing. âGlad to see you. Thereâs four been hanginâ around but thereâs only two now, or three at thâ most. Look out for âem. Goinâ to try to come up?â
âNo, not a-tall,â replied Luke. âThereâs enough of our outfit up there now. I only found two of thâ thieves, but thâ third may be hid somâers well back, âthough Iâve shore hunted a-plenty.â
âFound two?â
âYep; one down here, anâ tâother up there. Colonel Bowie pushed âem over thâ Divide. Cominâ down?â
âWhen that fireâs out.â
âHowâd they come to drive you up there?â
âI come up myself. Couldnât watch while I slept; anâ I had to sleep. Now that thereâs two of us itâs all right.â
âYou called thâ turn. Get yore traps together anâ Iâll fix thâ fire. Whereâs yore cayuse?â
âUp here. Donât bother with thâ fire. Be right down.â
Half an hour later Johnny reached the bottom of the trail and paused.
âRedâs pants,â âsaid a humorous voice.
âCome on, Luke. Weâll hold up somewhere anâ get thâ relief shift when it comes out from thâ ranch.â
âShore. Whereâs thâ ranch?â
ââBout three miles west; anâ itâs a cussed fine one, too.â
âAll right; get movinâ. I want to dry out these pants. They must be all cotton from thâ way they feel. Weâll go back a ways anâ start a fire.â
âNo, we wonât; too dangerous,â growled Johnny decidedly. âWe got this game won right now if we donât let âem know thereâs two of us.â
Luke grinned in the dark. âSuits me. You wait here a minute,â he said, disappearing. When he returned he grunted with keen satisfaction, for Flemingâs trousers felt snug and warm. âHow many are left?â he asked, leading the way toward his hidden pack.
âQuigley, Purdy, Gates, anâ thâ cook.â
âThem names donât surprise me,â grunted Luke.
âHowâd you get so wet?â
âSwimminâ,â growled Luke.
âYore shirt feels dry.â
âIt is, around thâ shoulders; but thâ tail feels like thâ devil. But itâs wool, all through.â
âWas you trailinâ Ackerman anâ Long Pete?â
âNope; didnât trail nobody a-tall. How many cows they got?â
âPlenty, dân âem!â growled Johnny.
âWhat you been doinâ up here all this time; anâ how many have you got?â
âThree; Iâve been busy.â
âWhy, you had time to get âem all.â
âDidnât dare do any shootinâ till I had to,â replied Johnny. âDidnât want âem to know I was up here. A gun makes a lot of noise.â
Luke chuckled grimly. âShore! Thatâs what I allus said; anâ thatâs why I use Colonel Bowie. He donât even whisper.â
Johnny snorted with disgust. âHuh! I ainât knifinâ or shootinâ from ambush. Thereâs some things I wonât do!â
âUppish, huh?â chuckled Luke. âWell, young man, mebby ambushinâ ainât yore style, but I feels free to remark that itâs mine in any game like this. Them pants feel good. That riverâs gettinâ colder every year.â
âRiver!â ejaculated Johnny, pausing in his surprise. âWhat river?â
âDeepwater, of course. How many rivers do you reckon we got out here?â
âThâ devil!â muttered Johnny. âSay! When did you leave thâ ranch?â
ââBout three oâclock. Iâd âaâ been here sooner, only I hoofed it from thâ river. Cayuses canât go where a man can; they make a lot of noise, anâ a man sticks up too cussed prominent in a saddle. They ainât worth a cuss in this kind of country when troubleâs afoot.â
âWell, Iâll be hanged!â grunted Johnny.
âPull up; here we are,â said Luke, stopping and bending over some rocks, which he rolled aside. âRocks are regâlar telltales. They has a dark side anâ a light side; anâ thâ deeper theyâre set in thâ ground, thâ bigger thâ dark side is. When you want to cache with âem, you picks them that sets on thâ ground; anâ you donât turn âem wrong side up, neither. Then a little sand used right will fix things
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