Her fondest hopes were realized, for here was a girl after her own heart whom she could make a companion and chum of, and she intended to keep her at the ranch as long as possible.
Mason was longer than he expected in putting the car away and had just started for the house when he saw the girls coming out. He paused in his walk and studied them as they came walking toward him, life and animation in their stride.
“Beauties, both of them,” he muttered half unconsciously to himself, “and fine girls whom a man would fight to the death for.”
Both girls were about the same build, Ethel being a trifle heavier. She was a decided brunette while Josephine was more of the blonde type. For richness of color the Western girl had the advantage over the city girl, but both were good to look at.
“And what were you mooning about, Sir Jack?” Josephine challenged him, when both girls paused in front of him and made a curtsey.
“I’ll never tell you,” he answered, as with a bow he returned their salute. “You both would have swelled heads, and I refuse to have two vain girls on my hands.”
Both girls charged at him and insisted that he tell them at once. He laughingly compromised with them by offering to show them around the ranch in the short time before his mother should arrive.
Mason first conducted them to the corral, his sister being an admirer of fine horses, and as they were starting to leave the corral for an inspection of the bunk-house and mess room, Bud Anderson with a group of mounted cowboys swept past them with a rush.
“Oh, who was that fine looking man at the head of those cowboys?” his sister asked in open admiration.
“That’s Bud Anderson, the sheriff and foreman of this ranch,” he answered, trying to conceal a rising note of vexation that had crept into his voice in spite of himself.
Was it possible his sister would fall in love with Bud, as had Josephine? He put the question to himself as the thought struck him. Bud was a fine fellow, he had to admit, but he felt a sharp pang of jealousy whenever he saw Josephine talking to Bud. Josephine had called to him and he wheeled from the group of cowboys and bringing his plunging horse to a stand, dismounted in front of them.
“What a superb horseman,” was Ethel’s comment after she had been introduced to him.
He had left them after promising Josephine that he would be on hand the next morning with his cowboys to show the visitors some fancy riding. Ethel began to feel a little tired after they had walked around a bit longer, and Josephine suggested that they go into the house and rest up for the next day. This plan was agreed to and on arriving at the house they had chairs placed on the porch, where lunch was served to them by Pomp, the cowboys’ cook, who had been pressed into double service.
Josephine explained that she often had him come to the house to prepare special dishes and that he was a very expert cook who took delight in showing his skill. Josephine soon excused herself, saying she had to see Pomp about a late dinner. Mason seized the opportunity to ask his sister about their father, and what she knew about the long enmity Ricker held against him.
“I don’t understand the matter clearly, Jack,” she began, “but father told me the last thing before I left New York to caution you to be on your guard as Ricker is his bitter enemy and would do you harm out of revenge for a fancied wrong he thinks father did him years ago.”
“Yes, I know that much for Dad wrote me about it in his letter,” he answered impatiently.
“But there is something mysterious back of it all,” she insisted gravely. “Dad says he has a man working on the case out here and that he would make himself known to you at the proper time.”
He was astonished at this bit of news and stared at her incredulously.
“It’s a fact,” she went on, speaking rapidly, “you know Dad is levelheaded, but stern in his ways, and never does things by halves. Something must have happened since you left home that he is gravely concerned about, for he worries about you continually. You must promise me, Jack, to watch out for Ricker for I know he will do you harm if he gets half a chance. Dad says he has a man out here looking after his interests and that is all I know about it, only you must be careful.”
“It is something new for Dad to worry about me, but I am more puzzled to know who the man is that he has working for him out here. I can’t figure out who it can be,” he said thoughtfully, then his eyes gleamed as though a sudden thought had occurred to him.
“I know that Dad is proud of you and is pleased with the way you have been making good out here,” his sister continued. “He often speaks of you and every time he receives a letter from Mr. Walters he chuckles, and once I heard him say you were a chip of the old block and then he blew his nose violently and looked stern again. You know his peculiar ways, Jack, but he thinks the world of you.”
His eyes grew misty as he realized his sister spoke the truth and he was glad he was making good for his father had always been lavish with him as far as money matters went, but he never had dreamed his stern parent cared for him like this.
Josephine had now joined them and the conversation ran to lighter channels much to Mason’s relief as he was beginning to feel blue.
It was about time for Scotty to arrive and Josephine kept looking anxiously down the trail.
“I sent Buck Miller with Tex to act as escort to them, and Tex is to ride back and let me know about what time they will get here so I can have a warm dinner ready for them,” she announced.
Mason suddenly remembered a pair of field glasses that he had brought with him from New York. Going to his room he brought them down and handed them to Josephine with the remark:
“See if you can make out any object with these glasses.”
She took the field glasses and carefully adjusted them to her vision,
“Thank you, these are just the thing,” she said, delighted with the view she obtained with them. “I can make out a rider heading this way and I think it is Tex. Yes, it is Tex, I can tell by the way he rides; I’m going in and hustle Pomp up with the dinner.”
She handed the field glasses to Ethel and disappeared in the house. Tex soon afterward rode up and reported that Scotty would arrive in about an hour. Ethel carried the news to Josephine while Mason went to the corral with Tex to look at a vicious horse the latter was breaking. The time passed rapidly and when Mason started for the house to join the girls, Scotty was driving in with his passengers.
Half an hour later it was a jolly party that sat down at the dinner table to do justice to Pomp’s masterful cooking. After the meal the party sat on the porch until dusk, while Josephine entertained her guests with the thrilling story of her capture and escape from the bandits.
As it had been a hard day for all, the party was preparing to break up for the night, when Josephine’s sharp ears caught the sound of horses’ hoofbeats coming toward the house.
“Wonder who it can be,” she queried, trying to peer into the gloom. “All our cowboys are in the bunk-house by this time.”
A moment later a figure appeared from out of the night and rode slowly toward them.
“Why, it’s Waneda the Spanish girl,” Mason cried in astonishment.
“What brings you here at this time of night?” Josephine asked of her distrustfully.
Waneda timidly placed a note in her hand.
“I was sent here and the note is for Mr. Mason,” she answered simply, in her rich mellow voice.
“What! another decoy note?” Josephine queried suspiciously, handing the note to Mason.
He took the note inside to the light, and after reading its contents his face showed perplexity.
“It is signed by MacNutt and he wants me to use my influence to have you agree to let Waneda stay here at the ranch. He says it is important that the girl should stay here for a few weeks, and he will vouch for her honesty. I think myself, it will be all right, but you can use your own judgment,” Mason explained, addressing Josephine.
“It is all very queer, but I want to do what is right,” she answered, smiling a little anxiously at Mason. “Certainly, Waneda can stay here, and we will hear her story in the morning.”
Mason was up at sunrise the next morning and set out at once for the bunk-house. He had determined to have another talk with MacNutt and have the man clear up a suspicion that was beginning to take shape in his mind. He had been convinced all along that things were not right at the Ricker ranch, and Waneda’s late and unexpected arrival the night before had clouded his mind with mystery. MacNutt’s strange actions in the last few days and his sister’s startling revelations concerning his father had him sorely troubled. In this state of mind he approached the bunk-house and found the cowboys forming in line under Bud Anderson’s leadership. They made a fine spectacle as they sat mounted and at attention while Bud was tolling off the ones that were to ride the range this day, and the more fortunate ones that were to remain to entertain the visitors. Mason’s sharp glance failed to make out MacNutt among the riders.
“I gave MacNutt leave to go to Trader’s Post,” Bud called in answer to an inquiry from Mason. The foreman’s face wore a broad grin. “He isn’t any use to me and as we are going to do some trick riding to-day, I was glad to have him out of the way,” the foreman added. Mason thanked him for the information and started for the house. His face wore a grim smile. “No one seems to take that MacNutt person seriously but me,” he mused softly, “but if I don’t miss my guess, he’s fooling them all.”
Before he reached the house he met the girls coming his way, and wonder of all wonders, they were being escorted by Percy Vanderpool himself. The fop wore a different suit from the one he had on when he arrived at the ranch and it was even more loud and flashy, but when Mason saw that he also sported a cane, he groaned aloud.
“Why, I wouldn’t be in his boots to-day for a million dollars,” he told himself, “what the cowboys won’t say and do when he appears to them in that rig will be a sin. But oh, a fool for luck, and just see the girls hang on to him.”
The girls had spied Mason, but were pretending to be wrapped in Percy’s conversation, while he was strutting and bragging outrageously.
Not to carry the farce too far the girls were slowly making their way toward Mason.
“What time did you get up this morning, Sir Jack?” Josephine called to him.
“Just about sunrise,” he answered, quickening his stride to join them.
“But you don’t look very good-natured for such a fine morning,” his sister said in a bantering tone.
“I feel good enough,” he returned shortly, giving her a sharp glance. “It’s a fact that fools rush in where angels fear to tread.”
He was looking hard at Percy as he spoke. He never had liked the fellow any too well, and wanted to put a check to his bragging. At any rate the words had no effect on Percy for he strutted and bragged as much as before. Josephine was laughing silently while trying to signal to Mason not to pay any attention to Percy. Finally she drew Mason aside and engaged him in conversation.
“You must not mind the way us girls carry on,” she was saying earnestly, “your sister is out here for a good time and Percy is a curiosity to us. We know he is a harmless creature with more money than brains, for didn’t you say so yourself, Sir Jack?”
He looked a little sheepish.
“Come, now,” she continued, “take us down to see the cowboys, we have a little time before breakfast and your sister is quite interested in Bud Anderson. She thinks he is about right, and I want you to help me in showing her a good time while she stays at the ranch.”
He stirred uneasily.
“Who is the more interested in Bud, you or Ethel?”
He put the question suddenly.
They had drawn a short distance away from Ethel and Percy. Josephine remained silent, her fingers busily toying with her handkerchief.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he continued relentlessly.
“That is for you to find out, Sir Jack,” she answered naively, and broke away from him to join Ethel and Percy.
“Come, Ethel, Sir Jack looks real blue and we’re all going down to the corral,” she said.
Mason fell into step with Josephine and the girl seemed puzzled by his abstracted manner.
“You are looking real gloomy this morning, Sir Jack. Please tell me what is worrying you.”
He saw a look of concern come into her eyes.
“Well, little Princess, I’ll tell you,” he said gravely. “I wanted to see MacNutt this morning to find out about the Spanish girl’s case. MacNutt had gone to Trader’s Post, so I didn’t find out anything from him. Did you question the girl this morning as you intended to?”
“Yes,” Josephine answered, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead of her. “Waneda didn’t tell me anything more than I found out last night, and I think we will have to look to MacNutt to explain the reason of her coming here.”
“Of course,” she continued, “I am willing that the girl should stay here just as long as she wants to, if I was sure that she is all right. Anyway, you seem to take a great interest in her.”
He looked up at her in surprise.
“What makes you think that?”
“I should think,” she answered, “that after a girl had brought you a decoy note as she did, that you couldn’t trust her.”
“I am still convinced that Waneda didn’t know what that first note contained,” he protested warmly, “and that she had been made a tool by the Ricker faction.”
“Your faith is wonderful.”
There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
He felt the sting of it keenly. They were now far in advance of Ethel and Percy. Mason stopped and placed himself in her path.
“Josephine,” he spoke rapidly, “I don’t care for Waneda or any girl, only you.”
She drew herself up haughtily.
“Please let us not continue this subject,” she said, eyeing him coldly, “there is Bud just ahead of us and I wish to talk with him.”
Before he could prevent her she had passed swiftly by him while he stood staring blankly after her.
“Now, what have I said to offend her?” he demanded angrily of himself.
Bitterly condemning himself for having said something out of the way, and racking his brains in vain to think what it was, he made his way to the corral in a disturbed frame of mind.
“Josephine must think I am a clumsy brute, and I don’t know as I blame her. Jack, you always did have a fool way of putting your blundering foot in bad with the women, but this girl, oh hell, but I have made a mess of things.”
Thus harshly denouncing himself, he paused at the corral. Josephine’s favorite horse, Fleet, caught his eye, and leaping the bars he took a lump of sugar from his pocket and held it out temptingly to the animal. Fleet gave a whinny of delight and raced over to him.
“Anyway, I can keep on good terms with you, can’t I, old top?”
The horse munched the sugar and tried to put his soft nose into Mason’s pocket.
“No more, Fleet,” he said gently, “or I will be winning you away from Josephine, and then she would have another chance to get sore at me.”
From where he stood he could see Josephine and his sister; they were talking gaily with Bud, while Percy was staring at the cowboys from a safe distance.
They were gathered in a small group and as Mason watched, one of them started to walk past his comrades, imitating Percy’s walk and mannerisms.
Mason’s good nature returned with a burst of humor.
The cowboy was really a good actor and he imitated Percy’s ways to perfection. Evidently the cowboys had planned on a fake fight for Percy’s benefit. The cowboy paused in his walk and a violent quarrel took place between him and one of the men.
Percy was staring at them with horror in his eyes.
Suddenly one of them pulled his gun and firing from his hip brought the quarrel to an end. The other cowboy sank to the ground as though mortally wounded. Percy gave one look and fled to the house.
The incident caused a hearty laugh from all the men, but Josephine cautioned the cowboy not to repeat the performance. Soon after the breakfast bell rang and Mason joined his sister and Josephine on their way to the house.
“You missed the fun, Sir Jack,” Josephine said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“No, I didn’t,” he retorted, vaguely wondering at her change of manner. “I was in the corral and saw all that took place, and believe me, it was amusing.”
“I will have to square myself with Percy, he will think we are all roughnecks out here,” she said, a little frown wrinkling her face.
“Nonsense,” he laughed, “I’ll just go right up to Percy and say, ‘What’s the matter, old chappie, don’t let a little thing like that frighten you, old chap. It’s a common occurrence out here, old top, dontcherknow, or don’t you know?’”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” Josephine cried, eyeing him severely; “why, you would scare the poor fellow away.”
“Small loss,” he answered, smiling again as he thought of the incident.
Josephine disdained to answer him. There was an appetizing breakfast awaiting them at the house, and for once Mason was as hungry as a wolf. Josephine made all hands wait, however, until she had her mother go to Percy’s room and drag him from his lair. It was evident that she had succeeded for the party could hear him following her downstairs. Percy was soon made to feel at ease for all acted as though the incident was forgotten. In the course of an hour they all assembled near the corral where the cowboys were beginning to show off their various stunts. Ethel was especially struck with the way one cowboy, running his horse at full speed, swept another man off the ground with apparent ease and swung him in front of him, his horse keeping up his terrific rush with scarcely a break. She clapped her hands in admiration at this feat of horsemanship. Percy seemed awestruck at the reckless daring of the riders and when the men passed in review after the sport was over, his eyes were held as fascinated at the sight of the guns sticking out of the cowboys’ belts. Bud Anderson had ordered his men to go armed since the Ricker faction had showed such open hostility of late.
Mason had noticed MacNutt during the cowboy games, but the man did not take part in any of the riding.
“MacNutt didn’t go to Trader’s Post after all,” he mused thoughtfully, “now where did the fellow go?” Happening to look over in Josephine’s direction, Mason saw that she was carrying the field glasses that he had presented to her. The girl evidently took delight in them for she occasionally swept the trail and far off mountains with them. He was walking slowly over to join her when he heard her give a startled exclamation.
“What is it?” he questioned, hastening to her side.
“Riders coming this way, and quite a body of them,” her voice seemed lost in wonder as she answered him.
“Oh, they are Ricker’s cowboys,” she continued, “run and tell Dad and Bud, quick!”
Mason quickly informed Bud and the ranch owner of Josephine’s discovery.
Bud hastily gathered the cowboys around him.
“Now, boys,” he said in clear, concise tones, “Ricker is coming here and I don’t know for what purpose, but if he and his men are looking for trouble we will give it to them quick enough. Don’t none of you men draw until you see me draw first. Is that clear to you?”
His eyes took on a steely glint as he spoke the last words. There was a murmur of assent from the men, but Tex stepped forward with an air of defiance.
“I don’t allow we’re going to stand by and see you get plugged first by Ricker,” he growled sullenly, “we all know Ricker is the quickest man in this part of the country that ever throwed a gun, and Bud, we don’t aim to stand by and give him a chance to throw his gun first.”
Bud listened calmly, the muscles of his face hardening.
“You will do just as I ordered, Tex.”
The words were spoken so low and without any trace of passion, that Mason could scarcely hear him. Then Bud placed his men after cautioning them again.
Mason could see he held marvelous control over them, and he began to understand why the ranch owner had made him foreman.
Waneda, the Spanish girl, had crept up to Mason while Bud was addressing his men, and she seemed strangely agitated at the news that Ricker and his men were coming.
Mason felt sorry for this poor waif of the plains and wished that Josephine would be more kind to her. It wasn’t Josephine’s nature to be harsh with anybody, he reasoned, but he could see that she seemed to hold a strong dislike for Waneda, and he couldn’t understand the reason for her dislike.
Josephine still had her field glasses trained on the riders. They were near enough now so she could make out Ricker in the lead with about a dozen cowboys.
“I thought at first that they were old man Gaylor’s cowboys instead of these swine,” the ranch owner burst out wrathfully.
In answer to an inquiring look from Mason he explained, “Gaylor owns a ranch just across the valley from here. His place is sixty miles from my ranch and sometimes he and his cowboys pay me a visit. They are right fine people and I thought at first this bunch of riders were his men.”
Ricker and his men were now riding up to the corral at top speed. They made a fine appearance, and Mason had to admit they were superb horsemen. When Ricker caught sight of Bud with his men drawn up in back of him, he flung up one hand and his cowboys came to a halt. Two of his men seemed to have trouble in controlling their plunging horses, and Bud watched them narrowly to guard against a trick.
Ricker was the first to speak.
“Anderson, I’ve come to repay that visit you and your men made at my ranch a short time ago”; his tone was sneering and his face worked with passion as his eyes fell on Waneda and Mason.
“That’s nice,” Bud answered coolly, “is that all you have on your mind to-day?”
“Not by a damned sight!” Ricker burst out furiously. The sight of Mason seemed to madden him. “I’ve come for that girl there,” pointing to Waneda. “Mason, did you have anything to do with getting her to this ranch, you damned——”
“Better not say it,” Mason cut in sharply, while taking a step forward. He turned around and looked at Waneda.
“Do you wish to go back with this man, Waneda?” he questioned her.
“No,” the girl gasped in fear.
“That settles it,” Mason said grimly, “Ricker, I guess your quarrel is with me. Now, I want to tell you something. Any man that will bulldoze a helpless girl has got a yellow streak, and if you’ll get down off your horse I’ll prove it. You’ve threatened my father in the past and I know you’re out to get me. Now, I have no weapon about me and I want to know if you are man enough to get down off your horse.”
The sudden turn of affairs caused surprise among Ricker’s cowboys, while Bud and his men sat staring at Mason in amazement. Ricker was fairly choking with rage as he was put in a bad light before his men, and he could only sit and glare at Mason.
“I will agree to let you take Waneda back with you if I don’t prove you have got a yellow streak,” Mason continued scornfully; “you came over here to pick a quarrel with me and you know it.”
“That is fair enough, Ricker,” Bud spoke up suavely. His voice seemed to have almost a purr in it. “The boy has called your turn. I will see that my men behave themselves, if you will promise your men will be good, but remember I’m watching you all.”
Ricker spoke a few sharp words to his men and they fell back leaving him face to face with Mason.
“I’m going to take some of the conceit out of you, you young upstart,” he said with pitying smile as he drew his guns and handed them to Bud. “You’re going up against a full grown man and I’m going to break you.”
Mason knew he would have a tough job on his hands as Ricker was of the brute type and outweighed him by forty pounds. Mason fell back to join his mother and sister as they were calling frantically to him.
They both appealed to him not to fight Ricker, Josephine and the ranch owner joining in with them.
“I intend to get revenge for Dad’s sake,” he told them simply, and they knew it was useless to argue with him further.
Bud went over and had a talk with Ricker. Soon he came back and drew Mason to one side.
“Ricker says he won’t stand for any rules to this fight, lad,” he said kindly, “the best man to win at any style he likes best.”
“That suits me,” Mason answered with a laugh; “I’ll box with him every minute.”
Ricker announced that he was ready, and the two combatants began to circle around, each looking for an opening. Mason held his hands as though to grapple with his opponent, when Ricker, thinking he saw an opportunity to get a hold, suddenly darted in and received a swinging blow to the jaw that dazed him. He fell into a crouch, as the blow had hurt him, and took a lightning uppercut for his pains. As he backed away, Mason could see that he was full of fight and a hog for punishment. The man was a regular giant in stature and the way he recovered from the effect of the blows amazed Mason. He decided to change his tactics. Ricker rushed him furiously, his great brawny arm trying to encircle Mason’s body. Mason easily side-stepped this mad rush and shot a snappy punch to his opponent’s eye, completely closing that member. He followed this blow with a series of body punches before Ricker could clinch him. Mason worked his arms free and swung a fierce left to Ricker’s face cutting a wide gash over his other eye, and causing him to back away cursing. Mason followed up his advantage, swinging short body blows that brought a spasm of pain to Ricker’s face. The bully was breaking ground now before Mason’s relentless smashes and tried to clinch at every opportunity.
“I knew you had a streak of yellow in you, Ricker,” Mason said coolly as he evaded a wild swing. “Why, your efforts are clumsy, stand up like a man and take a licking.”
Ricker bellowed like a bull at the taunt and rushed at Mason in a wild attempt to finish his nimble opponent with a single blow. The bully’s eyes were nearly closed and his breath came in gasps. His men sat amazed at the easy way Mason was handling him. Some of them nervously fingered their guns, but Bud was watching every move sharply and they didn’t dare make any display of force. Mason set himself and met Ricker’s bull-like rush with a powerful blow to the jaw. The man’s head snapped back while his heels were lifted clear from the ground. Mason had scored a clean knockout, scarcely receiving a scratch himself.
It took some time for Ricker’s men to bring him to, and as he climbed weakly on his horse he pointed a shaking finger at Mason.
“You haven’t seen the last of me, young fellow,” he swore between swollen lips; “I’m going to get you for this, and I want to tell you, too, Anderson, if I catch any of your men on my range, I’m going to make an example of them.”
“That is an idle threat, Ricker,” Bud retorted calmly; “none of my men will venture on your range unless there is a good reason, and then you may be sure I will come with them.”
Ricker frowned darkly at this return to his threat. He gave a command to his men and soon the band were in motion. Josephine watched them in the distance through her field glasses and saw they were taking the fork in the trail toward Trader’s Post.
“Well, I hope this is the last we will see of that crowd,” the ranch owner said with a sigh of relief. “Mason, you sure did beat up Ricker some.”
“I don’t know if Josephine has told you the story or not,” he answered, “but there had been bitter enmity between Ricker and my dad for years, and he came over here mainly to pick a quarrel with me.”
“Josephine did tell me something of the kind,” the ranch owner admitted wonderingly, “but I didn’t pay much attention to her at the moment and it clean slipped my mind.”
That evening, Mason with Bud and the ranch owner’s family were talking over the events of the day and were wondering how far Ricker would go with his threat when they heard a commotion down near the corral. Loud voices reached their ears causing Bud and Mason to spring to their feet. Both rushed out on the porch and at a glance they saw that a tragedy had occurred. Two cowboys were assisting one of their comrades out of his saddle. A third cowboy started on a run for the ranch house. Bud recognized him as Buck Miller.
“What’s the trouble down there, Miller?” Bud called to him.
“One of the Ricker crowd shot up Tex down at the Post!” came the startling answer.
Bud swore softly.
“It’s war to the knife from now on between Ricker and me”; he said the words in the manner of a man registering a vow.
Most of the Bar X riders had been recalled from the range before daybreak. Bud Anderson had them lined up and was explaining the reason of their sudden recall when Mason appeared on the scene.
After a few more terse words to his men, Bud signaled to Mason and they drew off to one side, leaving the cowboys muttering sullen threats against the Ricker faction.
“The men sure are in an ugly frame of mind and want to get at the Ricker crowd,” Bud began in an undertone to Mason. “Tex is a favorite among my cowboys, and I’m going to raid Ricker’s ranch and get the man who did the shooting. Tex got a bullet through his shoulder and close to his lungs, the doctor says. One of our boys was once a surgeon and has been taking care of Tex all right.”
Mason was puzzled over one point; he remembered he had seen Tex just before Ricker’s men rode up.
“How did Tex come to be at the Post when I saw him here when the men lined up behind you?” he queried, “and how did he get in a fight with Ricker’s bunch?”
“There wasn’t any fight,” Bud answered with deadly emphasis to his words. “You remember I had to call Tex down a bit yesterday as I knew he was likely to start something. Well, after that I didn’t pay any more attention to him, and as he is a sensitive cuss, he took a fool notion to wander off down to the Post by himself.
“No one saw him go, and as near as I can make out by his talk, he had drunk a little too much at the hotel and feeling wobbly on his feet he started for the hotel porch to get some air. Just as he opened the door, Ricker’s bunch swung around the corner and one of them took a quick shot at him. The gang never stopped, but made directly for their ranch. Tex says he got a good look at the man that shot him, and I am going after him to-day.
“Tex fell to the floor after he was hit, but he’s as game as a bulldog and ordered the men at the hotel to put him on his horse and he rode for home. The doctor says the long ride is more to blame for his present low condition than the bullet.”
They were interrupted at this point by MacNutt who came hurrying toward them.
“The doctor says that Tex will live,” he said briefly, addressing Bud, and giving Mason a curt nod. MacNutt was standing in his slouching way and regarding Bud with dull eyes.
Bud lit a cigarette and offered one to MacNutt.
“That’s good news,” Bud replied as he watched MacNutt puffing dolefully on the cigarette. “What’s on your mind, man? You act as though you were in a trance.”
MacNutt shifted his feet awkwardly.
“I want to ask a favor of you, Bud,” he said gravely.
“I want you to let me lead your men on this round up of Ricker’s gang.”
It was an amazing request coming from a man of MacNutt’s caliber, and Bud stared hard at him.
“Did I get you right?” he questioned slowly, astonishment in his voice, “Just say that again.”
“I want to lead your men to Ricker’s ranch,” he repeated, turning an appealing glance on Mason.
“Mason, here, knows I can be trusted, and I happen to know the guard at Ricker’s ranch and can take him by surprise so he won’t give the alarm. Then we can surround the ranch, and if we plan to reach there at night we can hold them up before they can pull a gun and you can take your man prisoner.”
It was a long speech for MacNutt to make, but the man had evidently planned the attack out in every detail, while his earnest manner see make a deep impression on Bud.
“I think MacNutt’s plan is a good one at that, Bud,” Mason spoke up, “I think he can be trusted, and as he says he knows the guard at Ricker’s we could make the capture easier. Of course, I can’t figure out how he happens to be on friendly terms with some of Ricker’s men, though,” he went on, giving MacNutt a dubious look, “but perhaps he will explain that to us later. Something tells me he is on the square, but you can use your own judgment, Bud.”
MacNutt gave Mason a grateful look as he finished.
“All right,” Bud said shortly, as though coming to a sudden decision. “I will take a chance on you, MacNutt, but you want to ride straight.”
There was a warning note in his voice.
“We will leave here in order to reach Ricker’s at nightfall. Be sure your guns are well looked after.”
With this parting admonition Bud left them abruptly.
Mason faced around and looked at MacNutt sternly.
“MacNutt!” he said crisply, “I don’t know why I put in a good word for you just now; your actions in the past don’t warrant it, but somehow or other I have faith in you, and now you must make good!”
MacNutt mumbled a few words of thanks as he started for the corral in his odd shambling gait.
“Curious person, that MacNutt,” Mason mused as he gazed absently after him.
Rousing himself with an effort he remembered that Josephine had told him to report on Tex’s condition as the girls intended to pay the cowboy a visit if the doctor would allow it. Waneda had already gone to act as his nurse. He started briskly for the house as there was much to be done by all who were to take part in the raid.
The first person he encountered as he entered the kitchen was Josephine. She at once questioned him about Tex’s condition. He briefly informed her of the cowboy’s chances of recovery and also told her of MacNutt’s strange request of Bud.
Mason noticed that her eyes lighted up at the mention of Bud’s name and his heart felt heavy as he realized that she was deeply interested in anything concerning the sheriff. Josephine was baking cookies this day and as Mason was looking hungrily at a tempting pan of freshly baked cakes, the girl insisted that he should try some and offered him a glass of milk.
“I’ll say these are delicious,” he declared, gazing at her in admiration. He had consumed six cookies and two glasses of milk. “I am afraid I won’t want any supper after all this.”
“If I do say it myself, I can beat Pomp on baking, but he certainly is a wonderful meat cook,” Josephine answered. Her cheeks were flushed from the hot oven and she made a pretty picture as she stood in the open doorway to get a breath of air.
“That makes me think of something I want to ask you,” he said curiously. “Why is it that the cowboys call your cook Smoke and you call him Pomp?”
“The cowboys nicknamed him Smoke, but his right name is Pomp,” she answered.
He moved over to the door and stood beside her.
Josephine was looking toward the bunk-house where the cowboys were moving about and getting ready for the night raid on the Ricker ranch.
“Sometimes I wish I could be a man and work on Dad’s ranch just like one of his cowboys,” she said with a little sigh; “just think of all the excitement you men will have to-night, but you must be careful, Sir Jack, there will be danger in this raid for you.”
Her face clouded at the thought.
“Do you care so very much about my safety then?” he asked eagerly.
“Of course,” she answered, her eyes opening wide as though surprised at his question. “You know I take a great interest in all our boys.”
He looked disappointed.
“I had hoped that you would take a greater interest in me than any of the rest,” he said dejectedly.
“And so I do,” she admitted, regarding him gravely, “you came from the East and have proven very interesting to me.”
“Well, that is something in my favor at least,” he said with a laugh.
His sister entered the room at this moment and he hastily released Josephine’s hand which he had imprisoned.
“What is this, a lovers’ quarrel?” she demanded, looking searchingly at Mason.
“It is nothing,” Josephine hastily protested, “just merely a little talk between Sir Jack and me. He just told me about Tex’s condition, and what do you think? MacNutt asked Bud to let him lead the men to Ricker’s.”
Ethel was surprised at this bit of news and a little later asked her brother to take them to see Tex.
“Percy has been asking us all the morning when we would be ready to visit Tex, and I told him we were waiting for you. Now, don’t you consider that an honor?”
“Where is Percy?” Josephine asked with a smile of amusement.
“Oh, he’s upstairs getting ready to ride a horse that Bud has picked out for him. Why, here he comes now.”
Percy came tripping out into the kitchen and at the sight of him Mason laughed heartily, while the girls were fairly bursting with merriment. He wore a tight fitting tailor made suit, the color a brilliant blue. His feet were snugly encased in a pair of shining riding boots, and he wore a pearl handled revolver in a dainty holster strapped to his belt.
“For the love of Pete!” Mason gasped in wonder. “Josephine, do you think this freak imagines he is going with us in the raid?”
“Hush, the poor fellow will hear you,” she cautioned him while she struggled hard to keep back her mirth.
Percy strode pompously towards the girls. He did not seem to think that he was making himself ridiculous in their eyes.
“This is as good as any show,” Josephine whispered to Ethel, while they waited for this bold bad man to speak.
“I suppose, aw, girls, you are surprised to see me dressed in this fashion,” Percy drawled, grandly tapping the tiny revolver in his belt. “But I am going to help chastise these blooming bounders, aw, Ricker’s roughnecks, I believe.”
“That will be fine of you,” Josephine answered, sober as a judge. “I am sure our boys will appreciate your great courage and daring.”
Percy drew himself up stiffly at her flattery.
“Bud promised to furnish me with a horse,” he continued, “and by Jove, I must be getting out to the corral. One of his men is going to teach me how to ride the brute. I used to be real clever on horseback, don’t you know, but this horse looks real vicious; still, I think I can manage the beast. Well, so long, girls, see you later.”
When he was out of hearing, Josephine jumped to her feet.
“Now, isn’t that rich?” she demanded, facing Mason. “Just imagine poor Percy wanting to go after Ricker’s gang. Come, Sir Jack, take us to find Bud. I think he is framing up something on Percy with that horse deal, and I don’t want the poor fellow to get his neck broken. Then we will go and see Tex.”
They found Bud at the bunk-house. When questioned by Josephine he admitted that he had shown Percy the horse he was to ride, and also that he had picked one that was likely to prove troublesome to Percy. He thought that was the best way to discourage the fellow, and also take some of the conceit out of him. Josephine made him promise to pick out a safe mount for Percy, after which they went in to see Tex.
A portion of the bunk-house had been given over to the injured cowboy. Waneda, the Spanish girl, was in constant attendance, and flitted noiselessly about the room as she placed chairs for Tex’s visitors.
“Tex is asleep just now. The doctor says he must not talk or be allowed to become excited. He says he will pull him through, but he must be kept quiet for a few days,” she told them softly.
“Then there is no use in staying here any longer,” Bud said, starting for the door, “there is a lot of work ahead of me before I start for Ricker’s. Anyway, I know the name of the man who shot Tex, and I’m going to get him to-night.”
He went out followed by the others. Calling one of the cowboys over to him he gave him some orders to carry out. Then he insisted that Mason should get some rest before the time set for the raid.
“This is going to be a hard night’s work, and it is a man’s job,” he said; “all the men are resting up and I advise you to go to the house and take things easy. We will have about two hours before we start, and I will blow a signal whistle that you may have time to join us.”
“That sounds like good advice and I think I will act on it,” he agreed.
“What are you going to do about Percy?” Josephine called back to him as they started for the house. Bud grinned.
“Don’t worry about your dude friend,” he answered, “I will have him so well tired out before we start that he will want to go to bed. Right now I expect he is trying to ride an old razorback horse that I ordered to be saddled for him. You know I can’t be bothered with him to-night, but don’t worry, he won’t come to any harm.”
When they arrived at the house, Josephine went to the kitchen, telling Mason she had to see her mother about getting an early dinner.
“For, you see, I can’t let you start away on an empty stomach,” she added naively.
She was back in a few minutes, however, saying that her mother did not need her help.
“Your mother is resting in her room,” she told him, “and my Dad is away somewhere on the range, so now I can visit with you and Ethel.”
“Then your Dad isn’t going with us to Ricker’s?” he questioned.
“Of course not, silly,” his sister cut in. She had taken an easy chair and was leisurely reading a magazine.
“You don’t suppose that Josephine would let her father go on a dangerous mission like this raid at his age, do you?” she continued.
“Josephine, I ask you to take my part; you see how my sister bawls me out at the slightest opportunity,” he said whimsically, glancing over at his sister.
“Sir Jack, I am sorry that so many terrible things have happened since you have been here,” Josephine said gravely, “and I am afraid your mother and sister will never want to come out this way again.”
“Don’t you ever believe that,” Ethel protested warmly. “Why, we are just having the time of our lives. There is just enough spice in this life to make you feel glad you are living. Am I not right, brother?”
“You’ve said it, sister mine,” he answered gaily.
“Sir Jack,” Josephine was looking at him steadily, “I know you are very reckless, and something tells me you are going into great danger to-night, Please promise me that you will try to be very, very careful.”
“Why, certainly, I can promise you that much,” he answered, a bit startled.
Josephine seemed pleased at his answer.
“Come to dinner now, I can hear mother calling,” she commanded them.
After the meal, Mason went to his room and tried to snatch a few winks of sleep. He had fallen into a heavy slumber with troublesome dreams.
He was fighting once again a desperate battle with the ugly hunchback at Ricker’s ranch, and was feeling the monster’s bony hands clutching his throat, trying to strangle him, when he woke with a start, the cold sweat standing out on his face. Josephine was calling him.
“Sir Jack!” she was saying, “hurry up, Bud sounded the signal whistle five minutes ago, and you haven’t a minute to lose.”
“I will be right down,” he answered.
As he had seen that everything was ready before he had gone to sleep, it took him scarcely a minute to slip on his boots and buckle on his guns. He went down the steps two at a time and flung the door open.
“Don’t forget what I told you about being careful,” Josephine called after him. “Ethel and I are coming out to see the men start after they get lined up.”
“Good for you,” he called back over his shoulder.
He had broken into a run, as he didn’t want to keep Bud waiting. When he reached the corral he found to his relief that the men were not quite ready to start. He quickly saddled his horse while taking note of the men who were picked to go. He noted with satisfaction that they were about the same cowboys that had taken the trail when Josephine was captured. Scotty Campbell, Red Sullivan and also Big Joe Turner were among the men picked. They were hard fighters and he was proud to ride with them.
As he was turning these thoughts over in his mind the men received the order to mount. Bud grouped the men and briefly informed them that at a certain point from Ricker’s ranch he would send a man ahead to surprise the guard. Mason took notice that Bud said nothing about who this man was. He wondered at this, and came to the conclusion that Bud feared the men would balk if he mentioned MacNutt’s name. If this was the true reason, Mason gave Bud credit for sound judgment, as it would be dark before they arrived at the point where Ricker had his guard stationed. Then it would be an easy matter to send MacNutt on ahead, and as none of the cowboys took him seriously, he would not be missed.
This was all conjecture on Mason’s part, but he meant to sound Bud on the subject at the first opportunity. At this point of his reasoning, Bud gave the order to start, and MacNutt was riding with him, a fact that bore out Mason’s keen reasoning. As they started, Mason remembered Josephine’s promise, and looking towards the ranch he saw both girls waving a farewell to him. Mason waved his hat in return and all the cowboys followed suit. As they rode at a fair canter down the trail he was amused to hear the cowboys argue among themselves as to which one of them the girls had waved at. Gradually he pressed ahead until he found himself riding with Bud and MacNutt. Upon questioning Bud he found his reasoning to be correct, for the latter informed him that he intended to send MacNutt ahead at the proper time.
The cowboys rode in silence for over three hours and Mason was glad when at last darkness closed in on them and at a sign from Bud, MacNutt began to draw ahead.
At a command from Bud the men slowed their horses down to a walk.
“The all clear signal from MacNutt is to be two flashes from a small pocket lamp he carries,” he whispered in Mason’s ear, “You see, I am trusting this man on your faith in him. I wish I could feel as sure of him as you seem to,” the sheriff continued.
“Of course, I can’t explain why, but I think MacNutt will prove all right,” Mason answered, keeping his voice low.
At a point farther on Bud halted his men.
“Now, boys,” he said, “we will make the rest the trip on foot. We have about a half mile to cover, and one man will be left behind to guard the horses. I am going to try and close in on Ricker without a shot being fired if possible. I want you men to wait here in silence until I give you the signal to move forward. Then we will surround the house and burst in on them. I want each of you to take particular pains to cover your man, and keep him covered! Is that plain to you?”
“How about Ricker’s guard?” one of the cowboys questioned.
“He will be taken care of,” Bud answered quietly. “Just you men wait for a signal from me to move forward.”
Mason was almost positive that not a single one of the men had missed MacNutt.
The sheriff was keeping his eyes glued on a spot just ahead of them. The moments that followed were anxious ones for Mason. What if MacNutt should fail them? Just as he was getting decidedly nervous, his sharp eyes caught two tiny flashes of light at the point where they were watching. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Bud give the command for the men to move forward.
“I thought I saw a light just ahead of us,” one of the cowboys said in a suspicious voice.
“Silence!” Bud whispered sharply.
When they reached the guard’s place, or lookout, no one was there! MacNutt had done some skillful maneuvering to outwit the guard, as he was one of Ricker’s best men.
“You don’t suppose that MacNutt has double crossed us and is in league with the guard?” Bud whispered to Mason. “He may be trying to lead us into a trap. It all looks mighty suspicious to me.”
Mason’s faith was still unshaken.
“No, I don’t think that,” he whispered back, “I think he will show up when we least expect him.”
They were stealing cautiously on and were close to the ranch now, and could almost look in the windows where they could see lights burning. Suddenly Mason felt his arm grasped from out of the darkness. He drew back in alarm and was just going to strike a lunging blow in the dark, when he heard his name spoken in a whisper so low he could scarcely hear the words. Another low whisper, and then he knew the person was MacNutt, as he hoped.
Mason quickly made the fact known to Bud, who seemed immensely relieved. One of the cowboys had managed to get a look into one of the windows, and he at once made a report to Bud.
Good luck must have been with them this night, for the men inside were playing cards. They had depended on their sentinel on the lookout, and had placed no guard about the house or at the doors.
Bud massed his men at the two doors, and at signal they were kicked open while the sheriff’s men poured into the room covering Ricker’s men before they had a chance to draw. Ricker himself was most astonished of all, and most furious.
“We meet again, Ricker,” Bud said coolly; “I have come for Nick Cover, over there by you. He shot up Tex, one of my men, and I am going to arrest him. Will you let me take him peacefully, or do you want a little gun play with my men?”
“You’ve got the drop on me,” Ricker snarled, hoarse with rage; “take him and clear yourself and men out of here before I change my mind and take a chance against you for all the odds.”
“You had better think twice before you try any rough stuff with me,” Bud said coolly.
Stepping quickly over to the man Cover, he snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. A look of hate glowed in the man’s eyes as Bud led him over and put him under the guard of his men.
Mason noticed that MacNutt was watching Ricker closely and Ricker was glowering at MacNutt savagely.
The actions of MacNutt puzzled Mason. The man had thrown off his languid air and was as alert as a panther. His next move was like lightning. An automatic revolver suddenly appeared in each hand and covered Ricker’s heart!
“Don’t draw, Ricker! it means death to you if you draw! You were getting suspicious of me and started to draw your gun, didn’t you? Remember how well I shot at your little target range here one day? Yes, you remember now, don’t you? It was a fool stunt on my part, you know, but it’s just a little way I have.”
MacNutt rattled on in this way to the amazement of all in the room. Was this the man that had played the part of a halfwit so successfully at Bar X ranch? Most of the cowboys of Bar X asked themselves this question, while Mason and Bud stared at him in wonder.
“Bud Anderson,” MacNutt continued, “you came here to arrest Nick Cover and you got your man. Well, I came with you for the sole purpose of arresting this man whom I have so nicely covered. My real name is Trent Burton, United States Marshal, at your service. Ricker, I arrest you for a murder you committed back East. Also, for running a counterfeiting den on this ranch!”
Had a bomb suddenly exploded in the room it could not have caused any greater consternation than had the Marshal’s denouncement of Ricker. Then the tension seemed to relax and Mason could fairly hear the men breathe. Ricker’s face had tuned ashen while Trent Burton was denouncing him, and now he furtively watched the Marshal as though in sudden fear of this new danger that threatened him. The Marshal kept his guns trained steadily on the chief’s heart.
“Ricker,” the Marshal continued grimly, “you have led the life of a mean cur dog. This boy’s father here,” he waved one of his guns at Mason, “was quite a big help to me. He set me straight about you when I was wandering a bit off your track. You stole money from Mr. Mason when he was in the lumber business, and also threatened his life.
“Perhaps it will interest you to learn how I dropped on to your counterfeiting game so easily. Ricker, I am going to make you acquainted with my most able deputy. Jean Barry, step forward!”
“Traitor!” Ricker hissed, as the man Jean Barry stepped over and took a position near the Marshal.
Suddenly a shot rang out, extinguishing the light.
Simultaneous with the report of the gun, Trent Burton’s lithe body shot past Mason. Then from the darkness came blows and curses, followed by a number of shots, as the men fought in the dark.
A bullet seared Mason’s arm like a red hot iron just as Bud shouted a warning for his men to guard the doors.
The firing ceased abruptly, each side fearing to hit one of its own men. The next instant Mason was grasped from behind and thrown violently to the floor. His assailant seemed possessed with superhuman strength and ferocity while he breathed with a peculiar whistling sound through his teeth. Mason’s brain worked like lightning as the belief flashed through his mind that he was struggling with the demon hunchback dwarf.
The beast’s bony hands were at his throat and Mason fought desperately. He realized that he was being slowly strangled. His left arm was wounded and lay useless at his side. As he vainly tried to bring his knee into the pit of the dwarf’s stomach his hand touched his own revolver. With his remaining strength he managed to work it free from the holster and brought the butt crashing down on the dwarf’s head.
The bony hands relaxed about his throat and he rolled the thing off his body with a shudder. He realized how close he had been to death.
He had stood near one of the windows when he had been attacked, and as he lay there quietly getting his strength back he heard voices whispering outside the window. There was not a sound from inside the room, each man being afraid to move or make a sound for fear of betraying his location to the other.
He listened eagerly to the whispering, and to his joy discovered that it was two of Bud’s men trying to figure out how they could thrust a lighted lantern through the window without getting shot.
Evidently they had found a way, for there came a crash of broken glass and the lantern passed rapidly over Mason and stopped close to the center of the room. The cowboys had found a long pole and had tied the lantern to one end of it. At the appearance of the lantern a number of bullets passed over Mason, and he was glad he had not attempted to get on his feet.
The light showed a strange scene. Ricker lay on the floor with his hands and feet shackled.
Trent Burton was bending low over him, the two deadly automatics still in his hands. Scotty and Jim Haley stood facing each other with their guns on a level, but neither dared to fire.
“Stick that gun away, Jim, and be nice,” drawled the Marshal. “I’ve got you covered and so has Bud there near the door.”
Jim’s gun wavered a bit as he half turned his eyes towards the door.
Mason had been watching Scotty and Jim from where he lay on the floor and fired the instant Jim’s gun wavered. Jim’s gun fell to the floor, while he grabbed his wrist with a curse. Mason quickly leveled his gun at the dwarf, who was crawling up on him again.
“If you come one inch farther, you beast, I’ll blow your fool head off. This is the second time you have tried to murder me.”
He was in an ugly fighting mood, and his arm was beginning to give him considerable pain. The rest of Ricker’s gang, seeing Jim Haley put out of action and their leader lying on the floor with his feet and hands shackled, lost heart and surrendered.
Bud sent some of the men scouting around for an extra lamp.
“I wonder who shot the lamp out,” the Marshal queried, “it wasn’t done by anybody in this room.”
“I did,” the dwarf spoke up, grinning exultantly. “I was in the cellar and fired through a hole in the floor. Then while the fight was going on I crawled through the window.”
“And well I know it,” Mason said ruefully, “he crept up on me and had me nearly strangled before I knocked him on the head with my gun. He must have a skull like iron.”
The Marshal after a brief struggle snapped a pair of handcuffs on the dwarf’s wrists.
“You are too dangerous a person to be at large, my most excellent engraver.
“This dwarf,” he continued, “was Ricker’s chief engraver.”
Then, noticing Mason’s wound, he called Jean Barry, his deputy, to examine his arm. Jean made a thorough examination.
“Your arm isn’t broken, luckily; as near as I can tell the bullet just grazed the bone in the elbow,” he announced cheerfully, as Mason had winced as he handled the injured arm.
“Well, it felt as though it was broken, I can’t raise it up,” Mason said grimly.
The Marshal was keenly interested. He seemed worried about Mason’s injury, and watched Jean as he put a crude bandage around the injured member.
“Bud,” the Marshal spoke up, “I propose we take a general inventory of our men and see how many wounded we have and how bad their injuries are. In the meantime we will send to the Post for a doctor. Who will volunteer to go?”
“I will,” Scotty spoke up eagerly; “young Mason here did me a good turn when he nailed Jim Haley, and I want to return the favor.”
“All right, Scotty, go ahead,” Bud agreed; “isn’t far to the Post, and while you’re gone we’ll look this ranch over.”
As most of the injured had received only slight flesh wounds, the Marshal and Bud undertook to examine the cellar and premises. The Marshal paused as they were about to commence their search and watched Jean Barry, who was dressing the men’s wounds.
“Jean, after you get the men’s wounds dressed, you had better go and bring in Ricker’s guard,” he said reflectively.
“I’ve got Tug Conners bound securely,” he added, “but I had to tap him on the head first, and he may be suffering.”
Ricker had been jerked to his feet none too gently by one of Bud’s men and placed on a table with his back to the wall. The look of fear in his eyes had died out, and he was regarding the Marshal with a look of hate.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” he burst out savagely. “I’ve seen you before, somewhere in the East.”
The Marshal turned to the counterfeiter with a grim smile.
“Right, you are, my counterfeiting friend,” he answered suavely, “perhaps I can refresh your memory.”
Into his eyes came a look of reminiscence.
“Follow me back ten years,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on Ricker, “to a little den on the East Side in New York. There had been a gang of counterfeiters shoving the queer, and they were operating around New York and neighboring cities.
“I was called in from another case I had been working on, and after long search succeeded in tracing the counterfeiters to this little den I speak of. In making the capture of the ringleader, part of my disguise was torn off, and that is the reason you remember me. In the excitement of the struggle you escaped, and I sent one of my men after you.”
Ricker was regarding the Marshal sullenly, his face working in violent spasms mingled with fear with hate.
“He trailed you to Baltimore,” the Marshal continued relentlessly, “and as he was attempting your arrest you sent a bullet through his head. After that, you disappeared and all efforts of my men failed to locate you.
“A short time ago, however, and through the efforts of my deputy, Jean Barry, I learned that you had headed for the West. As there has been a quantity of counterfeit money circulating in the East, I sent Jean Barry, who had at one time been a cowboy, out here to look you up.
“In the course of time, Jean Barry had evidence enough against you to warrant my suspicions, so I came out here and worked with him. This is your last attempt at counterfeiting, Ricker, for you will be tried for the murder of my detective.”
“Trent Burton,” Ricker ground out the name with an oath, “I’ll never be tried for that murder, and only for this traitor, Jean Barry, you would never have got the goods on me for this counterfeiting business. Only a few of my own men knew I was making the queer; the rest I kept in ignorance as they are only cattlemen.
“I owe my discovery to Jean Barry’s trickery; he came to me and hired out as a cowboy, and I didn’t suspect him of being a detective, but I’ll promise you this much,” the counterfeiter brought his shackled hands down on his knee with an oath, “there isn’t a jail made that will hold me. I’ll escape and get revenge on Jean Barry, and I’ll get you too, Mason.
“Your father helped to get the evidence against me and I’ll get you if I have to strike you through your sweetheart, Josephine. Ha, that’s a tender spot, isn’t it?”
Mason had jumped to his feet, startled by the counterfeiter’s vehemence. What if the man should make good his threat and do some injury to Josephine? The thought made a chill run through his frame.
“Come, Ricker, stow that kind of talk. You’re not in a position just now to make threats,” the Marshal cautioned him roughly.
The counterfeiter lapsed into a moody silence and further questions by the Marshal brought no response from him. Bud invited Mason to come with them while they made an inspection of the cellar, after he had first seen that the guards were placed to his satisfaction. In the cellar they found a complete plant for making counterfeit money. They had been there but a few minutes when they heard a commotion above them. They were relieved when they heard Scotty’s voice calling down to them. He wanted Mason to come up as he had brought a doctor.
The doctor put a bandage on Mason’s arm and soon his wound was feeling much better.
“Scotty, you made good time in getting the doctor here,” Mason said gratefully, grasping his hand.
Then a sudden inspiration seized him.
“The Marshal and Bud are in the cellar breaking up the counterfeiting press and apparatus,” he told Scotty. “Do you remember how we had our men drawn around this ranch the night that Pete Carlo, the Mexican, slipped through our lines and got back to the mountains without being seen?”
“Shure,” Scotty nodded eagerly.
“Well, let’s see if we can find out how he got past us. There must be a secret passage leading out of this cellar,” Mason cried enthusiastically.
“I’m game,” Scotty agreed readily.
They started for the cellar, but had they seen the look of dismay and fear that had come into the counterfeiter’s face while they were talking, they would have been puzzled.
Scotty had borrowed the Marshal’s flash lamp and took the lead, with Mason following close on his heels. They carried their revolvers ready for instant use, and as they stole cautiously through the darkness they were amazed at the length and width of the cellar. There were numerous casks strewn around and Scotty stumbled over one of them with such force as to bring a muttered oath from his lips.
“Whisky casks,” Mason said softly, smiling at Scotty’s discomfiture. “Evidently Ricker’s men held wild orgies in this cellar-like cave, but we don’t seem to be finding the underground passage very fast.”
They could still hear the vigorous blows from the Marshal and Bud’s hammers as they kept at their work of demolishing the counterfeiter’s plant.
“You wait right here, laddie, and I’ll get you a lantern. We will stand a better show of finding the underground passage if we each have a light,” Scotty whispered.
This was good logic and Mason readily agreed to the plan, after cautioning him to hurry.
“Keep your gun handy in case you are attacked, laddie,” the good-natured Scot warned him. “When you see two lights coming this way you will know I am coming back. We were damn fools not to think of another light when we started, but I guess I can get one all right.”
Mason sat down on an empty cask and pressed his hand wearily over his forehead as he listened to Scotty’s retreating footsteps. He was beginning to feel exhausted. The past few hours of excitement had told heavily on his nerves. He caught himself nodding several times and, rose to his feet in disgust.
“This won’t do,” he said angrily to himself, “you’ve got to pull yourself together, Jack Mason. We’re going to find that secret passage when Scotty comes back, old top, dontcherknow, as Percy would say.”
He tried to figure out how long Scotty had been gone. It had seemed like hours since he went for the lantern, and Mason began to chafe with impatience at the delay. It was so dark in the cellar that he could not see the hands on his watch, but he knew in all reason that Scotty had not been gone longer than ten minutes at most.
Suddenly he started up violently, his overtired nerves tuned to the highest pitch.
His tense ears had caught a sound like the clicking of some instrument. He strained forward in the inky darkness, his body rigid and revolver drawn.
Had his tired nerves played him a trick? No, the thing was clicking again, but very faint, and he reasoned from the sound that it must be at least thirty feet from him. Was somebody signaling from the far depths of the cellar to Ricker?