He was sure that was the reason for the clicking sound. Abruptly the noise ceased. His heart was pumping furiously as he silently turned around and peered into the darkness. To his great joy two lights were coming his way. Scotty was returning at last.
“Don’t speak above a whisper, Scotty,” Mason cautioned him in a low voice as the Scot attempted to explain his delay. “While you were after the lantern I heard a strange tapping noise, something like a telegraph instrument. It sounded to me like someone was trying to signal from this cellar to Ricker. We had better go slow as we may get shot from ambush.”
In the dim light Scotty’s face showed his astonishment. “I supposed we had all the gang as prisoners upstairs,” he said, gazing at Mason in wonder.
“Just the same, I’m sure there is somebody in this cellar besides ourselves,” Mason whispered impatiently; “you take the lantern and I will carry the small flash light. I can tuck it under my left arm and that will give me a chance to use my good right arm. I can handle my revolver all right if I am attacked. You take one wall and I the other, and we will circle this cellar and look for the secret passage.”
This plan was followed out at once and Mason could hear Scotty at intervals as he stumbled over some object while groping his way along the cellar wall. It was a dangerous undertaking, as both carried lights, and they took a chance of drawing a shot from some hidden foe. Mason was closely examining the wall when he heard a sharp exclamation from Scotty.
“Come out of that! what are you skulking down here for?” he heard him say in forceful tones.
Mason straightened up in surprise.
“What have you found, Scotty?” he called.
“Come over and see,” the Scot answered wrathfully.
Mason crossed rapidly to the opposite side and beheld Scotty holding his lantern in the face of the blackest negro woman he had ever seen. The eyes of the negress were rolling in abject fear and her limbs were trembling violently.
Whether her fear was assumed or not, he couldn’t tell, but remembering the signaling noise, he regarded her with suspicion.
“Woman, what position do you fill in this house, and what were you hiding in the cellar for?” Mason questioned her sharply.
The negress looked at him mutely.
“She must be a little deaf,” muttered Scotty.
“Come, tell me the truth,” Mason continued in a louder voice. “We won’t hurt you.”
“I’se de cook,” she faltered, gaining courage from Mason’s reassuring smile. “And when dem gemmen’s done come heah and begins a fighting and shooting, why I done runs into de cellah fo mah life.”
“Sounds good, Belinda, or whatever your name is,” he said, his face growing stern again, “But what were you signaling to Ricker for?”
Her face took on a blank look.
“Signaling,” she repeated in wonder, “’deed I wasn’t making signals to anybody, I was keeping just quiet as a mouse awaiting fo dem mens to leave.”
Mason was inclined to believe the negress was telling the truth.
“Scotty, you had better take her to Bud and the Marshal and let them question her,” he said after a short pause. “I will continue the search until you come back, and it would be a good idea to bring the Marshal back with you.”
From the look on Scotty’s face it was evident he didn’t relish his task, but he complied with the request with fairly good grace and hustled the negress along while she continued to protest her innocence of any wrong. Left to himself, Mason again began a systematic search.
Before the interruption by the negress, he had noted that one portion of the wall appeared to have oak beams running from top to bottom. He now went to this part of the wall and was feeling over one of the oak supports when his hand accidentally touched a knot which projected suspiciously out from the surface. He pressed hard on it, and to his delight that part of the wall began to swing slowly inward! Something was moving on the other side of the wall and he held his breath while waiting for an attack. Standing to one side he snapped his flashlight out and held his revolver pointed into the opening. Unable to resist a sudden impulse, he flashed on his light and found himself looking into the muzzle of a revolver and the villainous face of Pete Carlo, the halfbreed Mexican!
Mason realized his helpless position, and a sneering smile came into the halfbreed’s face.
“So,” he taunted, showing his wolfish teeth, “Ze brave American dog, he walk into a trap, ha?”
“I settle first with the dog of a Gringo, then I steal the fair Josephine again, and she shall watch me torture you, Gringo dog.”
His baleful eyes were looking gloatingly at his victim. Mason’s blood boiled at the mention of Josephine’s name. He held himself in check, however, as his only hope now was to gain time and give Scotty a chance to rescue him. He figured at the worst he would make a sudden attack on the halfbreed and chance taking him by surprise.
“Don’t be too sure of your game, you yellow cur,” he said scornfully, hoping to anger the halfbreed. “I’ve sent for two of our men and they will be here any minute now, and I want to warn you if you ever harm Josephine, I will kill you like I would a rattle snake.”
He raised his voice purposely as he made the assertion.
“Silence! dog of a Gringo!” the halfbreed hissed, “you talk more, I shoot you dead.”
Mason wondered why the halfbreed didn’t attempt to close the door and take him out through the secret passage. He had just made up his mind to risk an attack on the halfbreed when he heard a slight noise behind him. He turned swiftly, but too late. He heard the swish of some object as it fell with crushing force on his head, and he sank to the floor unconscious.
When Mason regained consciousness, Trent Burton the Marshal was bending over him supporting his head and holding a flask of brandy to his lips. The brandy and muffled reports of revolver shots sounding through the secret passage revived him instantly.
“Get Pete Carlo the Mexican halfbreed!” he gasped, staggering weakly to his feet. “The halfbreed was holding me up when I was struck down from behind,” he continued, “and there must be another cut-throat working with him. Where’s Scotty?”
Trent Burton’s two automatics appeared like magic in his hands.
“Scotty is having it out with the halfbreed,” he answered rapidly. “We caught sight of the Mexican just as we came up to you, and thinking you were badly wounded I ordered Scotty to round him up while I examined your wound. You have been roughly handled this night my lad, and you had better report to Jean Barry while I go after this other desperado. He must be somewhere between Scotty and us this very minute. I had no idea there was more than one of them and they may be trying to work Scotty in between them.”
They could hear an exchange of shots at intervals, but the firing seemed to be getting farther away and more faint each time.
“I’m not going back until I find out how Scotty is faring with those cut-throats,” Mason declared firmly. “My head is feeling much clearer now, and I know my hand is steady enough to shoot straight, besides I want a chance at the man that knocked me out. Bud and his men won’t hear any of this shooting down here and we can’t expect any help from them. The halfbreed and his pal will try to get Scotty in between them to finish him off and make their escape.”
“You’re a brave lad,” the Marshal said in admiration.
“Come, follow me. I have a plan to trap the halfbreed’s pal, at least I think we can draw his fire, and that is our only chance to get him in this darkness.”
He bent swiftly over, and Mason could hear him searching about the floor with his hands. Presently he straightened up and thrust a piece of broken table leg into Mason’s hand.
“What’s this for?” the latter whispered in astonishment.
“Just you hand that piece of wood to me in a hurry when I call for it,” came the surprising answer. “We will make all possible speed through this secret passage without using our lights, and for the love of Mike, don’t make any noise!”
“When we get to where that revolver duel is going on you will see something happen.”
Mason followed after the strange and fearless detective with great difficulty. The latter’s speed was terrific, and at times when Mason lagged behind he would find the detective crouched against the wall waiting for him. It was a hazardous undertaking as they might at any moment plunge into some unknown pit or trap. They had traveled some hundred feet when they came to a turn in the passage and now could hear the revolver shots plainly.
The Marshal was moving slowly and with great stealth now. Presently they could see the flash from the muzzle of the men’s guns as they fired. Each time the flashes came from different positions, showing the men had changed their location after firing.
The Marshal was crouched low and huddled against the wall. Mason was sure he had his two deadly automatics trained on one of those flashes.
Suddenly to his horror he saw the flash from a third gun, and it came from a different position from the first two.
He thought he heard a groan follow this last shot and bent low to whisper to the silent being at his feet.
“Hand me that piece of wood and when I throw it, train your gun on the next flash, and shoot to kill,” the Marshal hissed in a thrilling whisper. “Lie flat on the ground. I’m going to draw that murderer’s fire.”
Mason felt the Marshal’s arm grow rigid as he hurled the piece of table leg with great force against the opposite wall about twenty feet ahead of them.
Immediately the third gun began to flash again and Mason could hear the bullets as they pattered on the wall above his head. Before he could return the shots the Marshal’s guns were in action, and a perfect stream of fire leaped from their muzzles.
The third gun was silent! Suddenly the shrill note of a whistle pierced the silence of the secret passage. Bud was coming to join in the fight.
The Marshal sent back an answering call, and Bud, leading four cowboys, came up to them with a rush.
“Keep going, boys,” the Marshal’s voice rang out sharply. “Rush this passage; Pete Carlo, the halfbreed, is hiding just ahead of us and he’s got somebody with him.”
“Watch out for their guns and fire at the first flash. I think they got Scotty, the poor fellow, but if not he knows we are here now and he won’t shoot in our direction.”
All this was said as they almost ran through the secret passage, their lights searching every nook and corner.
They were braving the chance of drawing a shower of bullets from the hidden foe, but the Marshal was determined to clean out the secret passage at any cost.
Rounding a sharp turn in the passage they came upon Scotty huddled in a niche against the wall. He was clutching his revolver tightly between his knees while his head was sunk forward on his chest. A tiny stream of blood was trickling down his cheek, showing where he had been hit. Mason dropped quickly down beside him and felt over his heart.
To his great relief there was a little heart action.
“Quick! the brandy!” he cried in an overjoyed voice. “He’s alive, I think the bullet only stunned him.”
The Marshal, producing his flask, bent over and forced a small portion of the liquor down Scotty’s throat. They had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes and stare about in a dazed way. His gaze finally rested on Mason and he rose to his feet with alacrity.
“I’m all right,” he said almost savagely, shaking off the Marshal’s detaining hand. “The bullet only creased my head and knocked me senseless. It takes more than a dirty greaser to kill this canny Scotchman. Have you looked for the half breed? I think I got him in that last exchange of shots, then a third gun cut in from a different direction, and I went to sleep.”
They were startled at this point by a cry from one of the cowboys who had pressed on through the secret passage.
“I guess I can answer for your third gunman, Scotty,” the Marshal said tersely. “Come, let’s see what the men have found.”
Rapidly making their way to where the men were flashing their lights, they came upon the form of a man stretched on the ground. It was the halfbreed’s pal, and he was dying. He was still breathing, but with great difficulty. Trent Burton’s guns had cut short his villainous career, and forty feet from him lay the halfbreed. Bud made a hasty examination of the latter’s wound, and to his surprise he discovered that the bullet had not reached a vital spot.
The halfbreed had been hit in the right side just above the hip and was unconscious from loss of blood.
Just above him through a small aperture in the roof the stars were faintly shining.
A thorough search proved this to be the outlet for the secret passage, and it was evident the halfbreed was about to make his escape when a bullet from Scotty’s gun had laid him low.
Under Bud’s order the two men were carried out of the secret passage and taken to the ranch, where they were placed under the doctor’s care. The man of medicine quickly pronounced the one that had fallen under Trent Burton’s guns to be past all earthly aid, and set vigorously to work to revive the halfbreed.
An hour later, his wounds properly dressed, the halfbreed was placed under guard.
He sat glaring sullenly at his captors, and his eyes gleamed savagely whenever they rested on Mason or Scotty. It was Scotty’s gun that had laid him low and gotten him into his present trouble while he was attempting to escape. He cherished a bitter hatred for Mason since the time the latter had tumbled him out of his saddle with a well placed shot when the rescue of Josephine was accomplished.
The bullet wound had nearly cost him his life and caused him to take to the mountains in hiding, save for an occasional visit to the Ricker ranch, which was made possible by his almost superhuman knowledge of the mountains and the existence of the secret passage. The halfbreed’s shifty eyes finally turned in the direction of the chief of counterfeiters, who sat staring moodily into space.
A slight cough from the halfbreed succeeded in attracting his chief’s attention and a series of signals passed between them by means of an almost inaudible sound made by a light tapping of their bootheels.
Mason had left the room in answer to a call from the Marshal, and on returning to watch the captives his sharp ears instantly caught the sound, faint as it was. Remembering the signals he had heard in the cellar he regarded the sound as of deep significance. He promptly made the Marshal and Bud aware of his suspicions that the two were signaling each other, with the result that the halfbreed was taken into another room and put through a grilling third degree. At the end of an hour of this sweating process he was taken out, and Jim Haley, the foreman, was given the same treatment. Others that were close to the operations of the chief of counterfeiters were taken in turn. Through the answers wrung from the captives they learned that the secret passage had originally been the bed of a creek that had long ago changed its course or had become dried up. As the bed of the creek ran close to the ranch, Ricker conceived the idea of using it as a means of exit to and from the ranch. He had it tunneled deeper and roofed over with extreme care. The work had been accomplished so cleverly that none but the men who were in on the counterfeiting deal knew of its existence. Even Jean Barry, the Marshal’s deputy, had been among the counterfeiters and had not become aware that the secret passage led out of the cellar. A telegraph instrument, cleverly concealed and partly muffled, was found in the room where the fight had taken place, and tracing the wires out they found they led to the secret passage.
In the secret passage another telegraph instrument was found, showing that Ricker had been in communication with the halfbreed. All the wires and instruments were destroyed by the Marshal, and the halfbreed was again taken away from the other prisoners and given a more severe grilling.
This time he broke down completely and under promise that he would be given a shorter prison sentence he told in broken English how he and his pal had entered the secret passage just as the fight was taking place at the ranch. Knowing Bud’s men to be there in force he had signaled to Ricker that he would bide his time and wait for a chance to rescue his chief.
He had intended to pick up some more men of his own kind, and if necessary cut his way through Bud’s men by a sudden dash and rescue his chief.
He had planned all this with his pal, and they were about to leave the secret passage when they heard Scotty and Mason moving about close to the hidden door of the wall. The sharp ears of the halfbreed heard one of them say he was going for a light and listening closely he discovered that the man who was to wait was Mason. Prudence told the halfbreed to leave at once and bring help to his chief, but his burning hate for Mason caused him to linger with the hope of getting the latter in his power.
As the reader already knows, Mason had succeeded in finding the way to open the secret door and had played right into the hands of the halfbreed, while his pal had crept cautiously behind him and dealt the vicious blow that had robbed him of his senses until revived by the Marshal. The sudden coming of the Marshal with Scotty had caused the halfbreed to change his plan to make Mason a prisoner and he had fled, with Scotty in close pursuit, but the latter had the halfbreed’s pal to reckon with, a fact that nearly cost him his life.
The work of the Marshal with Bud’s aid in breaking up the power of Ricker’s evil gang of gunmen was a notable performance. This man, chief of the counterfeiters and outlaws, had long held the country in awe of his desperate gang of gunmen, whom he controlled with an iron hand.
Many a case of robbery and cattle running had been laid to his master hand, but so cleverly had the work been accomplished that it was impossible to get direct evidence against him.
Dawn was breaking when the Marshal announced his work at the ranch as finished and the cowboys with their prisoners were lined up outside. The plan was for the Marshal to take charge of the prisoners and turn them over to the proper authorities, thus relieving Bud of all responsibility. Two of Bud’s men were to remain at the ranch until they had sealed up the secret passage and to watch out for suspicious characters.
The negro woman was provided with a horse after Bud had decided to take her back with him to Bar X ranch. The horses and cattle of the Ricker ranch were to be taken care of by some of Bud’s men until the courts had decided how many of Ricker’s cowboys were implicated in running the counterfeiting plant.
Bud sent a couple of his men after their horses that had been picketed about half a mile from the ranch, and upon their coming up the party mounted and headed for Trader’s Post. On their arrival there the party separated, after the Marshal had received a hearty handshake from all the cowboys of the Bar X ranch. The Marshal’s duties were to take his prisoners to the little railway station and catch the nine o’clock express, then after seeing them safely jailed his duties were ended. It was with genuine regret that Mason watched him depart. He had come to admire the Marshal’s good humor, and as he recalled in his mind the way the detective had fooled him all along with his half-witted smile and awkward shuffling gait, he smiled at the man’s clever deception.
Trent Burton, the halfwit, and Trent Burton in action, were two different persons.
It was a long weary ride to the ranch, and when the cowboys arrived there they were about fagged out. Josephine and Ethel were at the corral to meet them, and as Mason turned his horse over to one of the men, Josephine noticed his wounded arm and immediately ordered him to the ranch, showing great concern over his injury.
“My wound is nothing serious,” he protested in answer to anxious questions. “My arm will be lame for a few weeks, and then it will be all right again. The doctor at Ricker’s ranch fixed me up in fine shape.”
The sight of the two girls had acted like a tonic to his jaded system. The ranch owner, who had been talking with Bud, now walked hurriedly over to them.
“Bud tells me you put in a hard night of it, Jack,” he said, eyeing him anxiously. “I have ordered Pomp, our cook, to prepare a hot breakfast for you at the house, and we are going to have the negress you boys brought back with you to cook for the boys at the bunk-house. I don’t intend to swap Pomp for the woman until I know what she can do in the way of cooking, and we know Pomp to be excellent.”
“And I will have the doctor come and dress your arm, Sir Jack, just as soon as you have had your breakfast, but I guess we had better call it dinner, as it is almost noontime,” Josephine cut in eagerly; “and then you can tell us all about your adventure and how you got wounded. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the good news. Tex is feeling much better and the doctor says he will surely recover.”
“I’m very glad to hear that,” he answered, keeping his eyes on the face of the girl.
He thought her eyes looked unusually bright this morning.
They walked slowly to the ranch, Mason between the two girls, who kept up a running fire of questions about his wound.
“You girls are trying to make too much of a hero of me,” he protested, smiling at their eagerness to welcome him back.
At the house he speedily convinced his mother that he was in no danger from his wound, and the girls continued to besiege him with questions concerning the night raid. He was seated in one of the large easy chairs in the library and every once in a while Josephine left him for a mysterious visit to the kitchen.
He could hear the rattle of dishes and a savory smell of cooking filled the room every time she opened the door.
“We are going to have Bud and Scotty dine with us,” Josephine announced after one of her visits. “And there will be just those two, with you, Ethel and myself. Pomp is doing himself proud. I told him he is to be our steady cook, as the cowboys are going to have the negro woman to cook for them in the future. I have arranged it with Dad, and you know he just about lets me have my own way in most things. I have always wanted Pomp for our steady cook and he will take a lot of hard work off of mother. All I can get out of Pomp is, ‘Yes, Missus, ’deed Missus, I will show dem gem-mens I can shore cook,’ and he is grinning from ear to ear.”
Soon Bud and Scotty arrived, and a little later Pomp announced that the meal was served, while Josephine conducted them to the dining-room where plates for five were laid. It was more of a banquet than a dinner, and during the meal Mason, with the help of Bud and Scotty, furnished the girls with all the details of the night’s raid. Ethel and Josephine listened with eyes open wide in astonishment when they came to the part in the story about the secret passage and the counterfeiter’s den, but when Mason told them of Trent Burton’s part in the raid they were amazed.
“And to think that man took us all in like that!” Josephine cried in wonder. “Sir Jack, did you have any idea that MacNutt was anything more than he pretended to be?”
She shook her finger playfully at him.
“No,” he answered slowly, as all eyes were turned upon him. “But I did seem to place a lot of confidence in him, and really I can’t explain the reason why. At times I felt the man was playing a double game, but that was as far as I could get with him, and you may be sure I was as surprised as anyone in the room when he called the turn on Ricker.”
“I admit that I took him for a plain damn fool all the time,” Bud said shortly.
Scotty nodded his head vigorously.
“Me, the same,” he said looking sheepish.
After the meal the doctor came in and gave Mason’s arm a new dressing, after which he was ordered to bed for rest. Josephine laid down some strict rules for him to follow in the matter of giving his arm a much-needed rest, with the healing promise that if he heeded them she would read to him in her leisure hours.
Six weeks had passed and business was running smoothly again at the Bar X ranch. Mason had fully recovered from his wound and Tex was also able to be about, although his complete recovery was still a matter of time. No word had been heard from Trent Burton, the Marshal, since he had taken his prisoners away. His services were in great demand by the Government, and the opinion prevailed at the ranch that he was working on a hard criminal case somewhere in the East. The Marshal had seemed anxious to dispose of the Ricker case in a hurry, saying that he had matters of great importance awaiting him at headquarters.
One fine morning, Mason feeling the need of exercise, found himself longing for a spin in his racing car. He had not been out in it since the time he drove to the station with Josephine to meet his mother and sister. The idea getting a firm hold on him, he made his way to the shed that did duty as a garage, with the intention of giving the car a careful overhauling. He paused as he was about to open the door, and looked down the trail leading to Trader’s Post.
It was a magnificent morning with a gentle breeze sweeping up the valley. He smiled as he made out the figures of Waneda and Tex just coming out of the bunk-house and headed his way. The Spanish girl called regularly on Tex every morning, and insisted that he take a walk in the warm sunshine. It was due to this fact that the cowboy was recovering so rapidly. The lanky cowboy had taken a great liking to his Spanish nurse with the large dreamy eyes, and it didn’t take very hard coaxing on her part to get him to take a walk when the weather was fine.
Mason was working industriously on his racer when the pair came up and looked in on him.
“Good morning, Tex,” he called cheerfully, bowing to Waneda. “Want to take a ride in my racer? I can take both of you to Trader’s Post and back again before breakfast is ready.”
Tex was eyeing the machine distrustfully.
“Nope,” he answered laconically. “A hoss is plenty good enough for me. What if the blamed thing got to frisking balky like? I reckon I ain’t afraid of no hoss that walks, but if this here critter got to acting up peevish like, why I know I sure would jump out. I ain’t got no objections to the gal here a-going with you if she likes.”
Before Waneda could answer two riders rode past them on their way to the ranch. Tex looked after them in surprise.
“Bruce and Lem Gaylor from the Gaylor ranch across the valley from us,” he said in a puzzled tone. “Wonder what they want this early in the morning?”
“Probably nothing serious,” Mason answered, briskly, turning his attention to getting his car in running order.
“People can begin to enjoy life again in this part of the country, now that the Ricker gang has been cleaned out,” he resumed. “Tex, doesn’t it seem good to know you can ride this range without bumping into some of Ricker’s cut-throats?”
Tex frowned darkly.
“Huh,” he snorted, “he’s got plenty of friends scattered around these parts, and I have been tipped off that Nick Cover’s cousin is going to get me on sight; his cousin works on a small ranch that joins Gaylor’s boundary line, and they say he is dead sore because Nick was jailed on my account.”
Tex was fingering his gun as he talked, and Mason could see the hot blood mount into his cheeks and his voice grew hard and stern. The raw deal he had received at the hands of one of Ricker’s men had left a bitter hatred in his soul. As he slowly recovered from his wound he vowed revenge for the cowardly shot that laid him low.
“I’m telling you, Jack,” the lanky cowboy continued impressively, “that you ain’t seen the last of Ricker’s gang of cut-throats, and you want to pack a gun when you’re riding this range. I’ve got it straight that you are a marked man since the raid, and the friends of Ricker will get you if they have to shoot from ambush.”
Mason was a bit startled at Tex’s vehement manner.
Waneda had kept silent up to this point, but Tex’s words had seemed to cause her great agitation.
“Tex is right, Signor,” she said earnestly, her great eyes full of entreaty, “you must be very careful, for while I was at Ricker’s he had many people call on him. His place is a sort of rendezvous, and I have seen all sorts of people gather there from all parts of the country.”
Mason was about to answer her when Tex announced that the Gaylor brothers were coming back from the ranch. He waited for them to pass by, but to his surprise they dismounted and asked Tex where they could find Jack Mason.
“Jack’s inside there working on his machine,” the lanky cowboy answered, as he proceeded in his quaint way to introduce Waneda and Mason to the Gaylor boys.
They were well set-up men and about Mason’s own age. He took to them at once and liked their straightforward manner and jovial dispositions. Bruce, the elder, did most of the talking, his brother being a little more reticent.
“We rode over here this morning to invite the Bar X boys to a dance at our ranch the last of this week,” Bruce explained to Mason, “and as to-day is Wednesday you have until Saturday to make up your mind. I know what your outfit has been through with in cleaning out some of the Ricker gang, and my sister insisted on this party to liven up the boys of the Bar X. It is all her own arrangement, and you know how woman folks are when they get set on an idea. I think it is a good plan to get the boys together once in a while.
“Miss Josephine seemed to be taken up with the idea, and told me to get you to promise to visit us Saturday. I guess she is pretty near the boss of this ranch, and as I have her on my side I have hopes that she will be able to persuade you to come to our party, Jack.”
“I’ll be glad to come and you can depend on me for one,” Mason answered, turning to look at Tex who was in earnest conversation with Lem and Waneda. “I’ll go among the boys and get them all to turn out for this occasion, and we will make the party such a success that your sister won’t have any kick coming.”
“Another reason why we came over here this morning was to warn you to watch out for the friends of Ricker,” Bruce continued, lowering his voice. Tex had started on a slow walk to the ranch with Lem and Waneda. “You know the town of Smoky Point below Trader’s Post at the railroad junction?”
Mason nodded his head, becoming deeply interested.
“Well,” Bruce resumed, “Lem and I happened to have some business to transact in that town yesterday, and we dropped into the Duke hotel: it is a saloon and dance hall run by Duke Williams, a notorious gambler. He got his nickname, Duke, from his highly polished manners and cool indifference to danger. He is said to be a man who never gets rattled or shows any signs of nervousness, no matter what the provocation. We were seated at a table and had just ordered a round of drinks when two cowboys came in and took seats near us. They were from the ranch that joins our boundary line, and from their talk they had been drinking heavily and were in an ugly mood. One of the men was Nick Cover’s cousin and goes by the name of Spot Wells. They didn’t appear to realize they were talking loud, and during their conversation I caught Tex’s name mentioned, followed by an oath, and then they began to plan how they could get Tex and then finish you off. For some reason or other they seemed to think that you were directly responsible for the Ricker raid. We took our leave shortly after that, and I made it my business to let you know the kind of deal you are up against. Lem will put Tex wise, and you can bank on me to keep you posted if I hear anything else. What I am most concerned about just now, is to make sure that you will come to our dance.”
Mason grasped his hand and shook it heartily.
“You can depend on me, Bruce, I wouldn’t miss it for the world, and I want to thank you for going to all this trouble on my account,” he said sincerely. “Why, you almost made me forget about your party while I was listening to your description of these men.”
His eyes lighted up with a curious gleam and he looked hard at Bruce.
“Say, I’ve got an idea,” he burst out suddenly; “get your brother to stay here and have breakfast with us, and then you and I will quietly get this old machine out and take a spin down to Smoky Point. There is a bare chance that we will find those cowboys there, and I want to get a good look at them. We won’t say a word to anybody about going, and you can patch it up with your brother afterwards. Are you game?”
“It’s a go,” Bruce answered readily, “I always did want to ride in one of those blaze wagons, and now is my chance. I see Tex has vanished with the girl and my brother and I suppose they are at the ranch by this time. That makes me think, while I was telling the ranch owner about that deal at Smoky Point, Josephine cut in on my conversation and urged me to stay for breakfast. I refused her invitation, so when she sees me again I will have to lay the blame on you.”
When they arrived at the ranch, breakfast was ready, and Josephine took Mason to task for keeping her waiting.
He looked at Bruce and laughed.
“You see, Bruce,” he said gaily, “if there are any scoldings to be had I get ’em.”
“What have you two been hatching up?” the girl questioned suspiciously, smiling at Mason’s good humor. “Do you know, Mr. Gaylor, since Sir Jack has gotten well from his wound, he is getting to be an awful tease?”
After breakfast the owner of Bar X insisted on showing the Gaylor brothers around the ranch, and had them look over some new stock he had received a large shipment of. To the vexation of Mason and Bruce it was a matter of over four hours before they managed to break away from the enthusiastic ranch owner and got started down the trail towards Smoky Point.
Bruce had to tell his brother he would be gone for nearly the rest of the day, and just as Mason got his car in motion one of the men in the corral yelled after him that Josephine and his sister had taken their horses right after breakfast, and said they were going to do some shopping at Trader’s Post. Mason wondered at this, for the girls usually let him know when they intended taking a long trip.
“Maybe we will meet or pass them somewhere on the trail,” Bruce suggested, noticing Mason’s anxiety.
Mason brightened up at the thought.
“That would be fine,” he agreed, and he let the car out until they were doing a good fifty miles per hour.
“They are fine girls, but just a little too daring to suit me at these times. How does this speed suit you, Bruce? Shall I let her out a little more?”
Bruce had his hat jammed well down over his ears.
“No,” he managed to gasp, “I ain’t no hog for speed. This is plenty fast enough for me.”
Mason laughed as he slowed the racer down to a more moderate road speed. Then he began to try to figure out about how far ahead the girls were.
As they had over four hours the start of him, he had to give it up in disgust. Knowing Josephine’s daring, he reasoned that she might even swing off after reaching Trader’s Post and head towards Devil’s Gap. He had heard the girls repeatedly express a desire to be able to travel when and where they pleased, but he had always cautioned them that it was unsafe for them to be without an escort, as there was always the danger of running into some of the lawless gunmen of the valley. He wished most heartily that they had not started off alone, and he was worried more than he cared to admit even to Bruce Gaylor.
The motor was running in perfect order this day, and later when the buildings of Trader’s Post came in sight, Bruce opened his eyes in surprise.
“This sure is a quick way of traveling, and beats a horse forty ways,” he remarked in admiration.
“You’re a little different from Tex,” Mason answered, as he remembered how the lanky cowboy had refused to ride. “Why, I couldn’t get him any closer than four feet to the car.”
They had made good time from the ranch, and as they drove into the town, Mason’s first move was to dash into the leading store and inquire if the girls had done any trading there this day. They were well known at Trader’s Post, as it was the nearest place to Bar X ranch and the girls did quite a bit of shopping there. Mason was astonished to receive the answer that the girls had not been seen to enter the town, or at least they had done no trading in any of the stores which he visited.
He was thoroughly aroused by this time, and something seemed to tell him that the girls were in danger. He was inclined to follow his first idea that the girls had swung off the trail before reaching Trader’s Post and had headed for Devil’s Gap. He told Bruce of his thought and waited impatiently for his opinion.
“It won’t make any difference to me if you want to go towards Devil’s Gap,” Bruce said grimly; “if you think the girls are in danger we ought to get busy right quick. This trip to Smoky Point can wait for some other time.”
Mason did some hard thinking and kept looking anxiously down the trail towards Smoky Point. Suddenly he jumped for the driver’s seat and started the racer off at a furious speed.
“Hang on hard, Bruce,” he grated, “something tells me the girls took a notion to visit Smoky Point, and it’s to Smoky Point we go.”
There was a whirl of dust as the car shot out of the town, and some of the natives of Trader’s Post who happened to be in the street stared after them in amazement. That Bruce was scared, Mason well knew, for he could feel his body quiver. With set lips he drove the fast machine ahead, and he confided to Bruce afterwards that he never had driven faster on the race track. Soon they struck a bad part of the trail and he had to slow the car down. Bruce seized the opportunity to ask a few questions.
“What got the idea into your head that the girls might visit Smoky Point?” he queried curiously.
“When you told the folks at the ranch about Spot Wells and Duke Williams’ place at Smoky Point, the girls heard you, didn’t they?” Mason questioned him.
“Why, yes, they were in the room,” Bruce admitted, wonderingly.
“Well,” Mason resumed, “it would be just like my sister to coax Josephine to show her this town, and as you know, she is from the East and nothing would suit her fancy better than a little adventure of this kind, so she could tell the people back East what a real Western town is like. It would appeal to her about the same as it does to some of our society people in New York when they go on a slumming trip to Chinatown. Now, do you get the drift of my reasoning?”
Bruce nodded understandingly.
“God grant that they haven’t fallen into evil hands,” Mason added, as he pulled the plunging car out of a bad ditch.
A little later they were entering the outskirts of Smoky Point and he slowed the car down in order not to attract any undue attention. As they drove into the main street, he joyously discovered the girls’ horses hitched close to a large department store.
Mason stopped the car in front of the store, and turning to Bruce said:
“You go into this store and make inquiries and if you don’t hear any news of them there, visit the other stores. In the meantime I will look over Duke Williams’ place and you can come there as soon as you find out anything.”
“But you don’t know Duke Williams or the run of the place as well as I do,” Bruce protested.
“That’s just the reason I want to go alone,” Mason replied hurriedly, “this Williams don’t know me, and if there is any deviltry afoot they won’t suspect me half as quick as they would you.”
This plan was agreed to, and Mason sauntered slowly over to the place run by Duke Williams. He entered the bar-room and called for a cigar. There was the usual bunch one would find in a place of this kind, lined up against the bar talking with the barkeeper. After a sharp glance at this man Mason decided he was not the proprietor. There was a small booth, or reading-room, just outside the barroom. Mason, taking a paper out of his pocket, entered this room and seating himself comfortably made an attempt at reading. Seated directly opposite him were two cowboys engaged in earnest conversation.
Mason assumed a drunken attitude, allowing his head to sink slowly into his paper. Listening closely, he watched them over the top of that paper. They were talking in subdued tones, but he caught the name of Tex mentioned and he was instantly on the alert. If one of these men should turn out to be Spot Wells, he could thank his lucky stars that the cowboy did not know him by sight. He listened eagerly and a minute later he was electrified to hear one of them say it was about time to visit the girls!
They laughed hoarsely and rose to their feet. There was a flight of stairs leading out of the room and as they started to ascend them, Mason came under their direct gaze. His head had fallen on a level with the table and he appeared to be fast asleep. He was watching them out of the corner of his eye, however, and he saw one of the men hesitate and regard him suspiciously.
This one appeared to be the leader and had a spot just under his right eye.
Mason’s heart jumped as he realized that this cowboy might be Spot Wells, the man Bruce had told him about. He determined to stick close to these men until he found out what they meant when they spoke about visiting the girls. His blood boiled as the thought struck him that they might mean Josephine and Ethel.
The cowboy with the spot came over and shook him roughly, but Mason made only a feeble attempt to raise his head.
“Seems to be dead drunk,” he said to his companion with an oath.
“You had better stay here and watch him while I visit our fair prisoners,” he continued, “even the Duke don’t know we got the girls from Bar X, and I know he won’t stand for this kind of play if he gets wise, so it is up to us to get them out of here right quick. I’ll go and look them over and fix it up with the old Mexican woman. You know the danger signal; if anybody comes, one short blast on that whistle of yours, and we will get them out of here in a hurry.”
This was enough for Mason, and he quickly made up his mind to attack the two cowboys. He heard the man with the spot mounting the stairs while the other took up a position at the foot.
Mason waited until he was sure the cowboy had reached the next floor, then he carefully measured the distance to the foot of the stairs, and with a bound was upon his guard. The fellow was so startled he forgot to cry out, and Mason tried for a strangle hold. The man seemed possessed with unusual strength, and breaking away from him darted up the stairs. The next instant a shrill whistle sounded and Mason, following his opponent closely, hurled himself upon him in time to grasp the muzzle of a revolver he had drawn. Mason worked free from a deadly hold his enemy had secured and getting his feet set firm, he sent a crashing blow to his jaw, knocking him the length of the stairs. A door back of him was flung open and he turned just in time to avoid a vicious blow aimed at him with the revolver butt of the cowboy with the spot under his eye.
A cry of rage escaped Mason’s lips and he saw red as he beheld the terror-stricken faces of his sister and Josephine in the doorway.
Before the cowboy with the spot could recover his balance Mason swung a powerful blow, knocking him sprawling on top of his comrade. Sweeping Josephine up in his arms and calling sternly for his sister to follow him, he went down the stairs with a rush kicking one of the cowboys over as he vainly tried to draw his gun. In the street he sat Josephine on her feet just as Bruce came running up to them.
“Don’t ask any questions, Bruce,” he said rapidly, “I found the girls all right, and I want to ask a favor of you. I am going to take them back to the ranch in my car and I would like you to take their horses back with you. If you will do me this favor I will never forget it, and you stay at the ranch to-night and I will tell you how I found the girls, but don’t say anything to the folks at the ranch about this stunt the cowboys tried to pull on us. I will take the matter up with Bud as I don’t want the old folks at the ranch to get alarmed. Will you do this for me?”
“Sure thing,” Bruce agreed readily; “I am glad to be of some help, but it is just my luck to miss all the fun, and I can see that you have been in a right smart mix-up.”
Mason hastily bundled the girls into the car and when the town was left well in their rear he looked reproachfully at Josephine. Her lips were quivering and his heart softened.
“I know what you are going to say,” she said demurely, “you are going to scold Ethel and me for getting into this scrape.”
“No, I’m not,” he answered soberly, “but I want you to tell me all that happened while you were in that hotel and how you came to be prisoners of those men.”
“We didn’t come to any harm, thanks to your timely rescue,” she said earnestly, “and I will tell you the whole story on just one condition.”.
“And what is that?” he asked, painfully surprised.
“That you don’t tell our parents of our narrow escape.”
“I can promise you that right off the reel,” he said, greatly relieved. “Now just fire away, truants.”
“And also, that you explain in some way to their satisfaction how we come to return in your car instead of on our horses.”
“All right, all right, my fair Princess; I’m great at explaining things.”
“Well, I will start from the beginning and then you will understand the whole story, won’t he, Ethel?” Josephine began.
“Ethel and I wanted to take a nice long ride this morning, so we finally decided just before we reached Trader’s Post to branch off the trail and go on to Smoky Point. I knew of a short cut we could take, so we didn’t go through Trader’s Post—”
“No wonder we couldn’t get any news of you there,” Mason cut in, looking at her in surprise. “Bruce and I came through that town and inquired for you there.”
“Well,” Josephine resumed, “when we arrived at Smoky Point we made a few simple purchases at one of the stores, after which we walked about the place as Ethel wished to see all there was to be seen of the town. You know she had never been there before, but I went there once before with Dad and knew all about the famous resort run by Duke Williams. In a spirit of mischief I led Ethel to this place and we were standing near one of the windows of the dance hall innocently listening to the music when we were suddenly attacked by two men. They had thrown blankets over our heads to stifle our cries. We both fainted from fright and when we came to our senses we found we had been locked in a room and were prisoners. We were guarded by an old Mexican woman. She warned us not to make an outcry and held a glittering dagger before our eyes. I tried to buy her off and was making some impression on her with the promise of gold, when one of our captors unlocked the door and strode into the room. He snarled some orders to the Mexican woman as he covertly watched us frightened girls. Then a whistle sounded somewhere in the building and the man’s face seemed to blanch white. He ran to the door and flung it violently open; then came the sound of blows, and we rushed out into the hall just in time to see you knock him downstairs. Believe me, you looked good to us just then. I don’t know what became of the old Mexican woman; anyway she disappeared during the excitement.”
“I have a score to settle with that spotface cowboy,” Mason said grimly. “What do you suppose his object was in making you girls prisoners?”
“I heard the old Mexican woman say we were to be held as prisoners out of revenge for Ricker’s arrest, and they were going to demand money from Josephine’s father for our safe return to the ranch,” Ethel spoke up; “the two cowboys had been drinking heavily and were in a revengeful mood.”
The rest of the ride was made in silence, all three being busy with their own thoughts.
“I would advise you girls to go to your room and rest up,” Mason said as he drove the car in front of the house. “Just act as if nothing had happened, and when Bruce arrives we will figure out some means of rounding up this spotface cowboy and his pal. I’ll tell the folks that I kidnapped you girls at Trader’s Post and brought you home in my car. Remember, we have to get in shape for the dance at Bruce’s ranch, and I am going to demand some extra dances from you girls by way of punishment.”
“Do you dance so badly as all that, Sir Jack?” Josephine flung back saucily at him as she took Ethel’s arm and disappeared into the house.
In the two remaining days before the dance, Bruce, Bud Anderson and Mason scoured the country for the spotface cowboy and his pal, but those worthies had disappeared. Inquiry at the ranch where they had worked revealed the fact that they had quit their jobs and departed for parts unknown.
Mason had almost forgotten the affair at Smoky Point, and the evening of the dance found him waiting patiently at the ranch door with his racer. He had planned to take the girls over to the Gaylor ranch in his car, the cowboys having left long before on their horses. Soon, two visions of beauty greeted his eyes, and with a satisfied smile he tucked the girls comfortably in their seats for the ride.
“This is the night that Percy Vanderpool will shine,” he said with a laugh. “I saw him leave this afternoon with the cowboys, and he was dolled up like a Christmas tree.”
“I hope you will treat the poor fellow with a little more respect when we get to the dance,” his sister said, with a severe look at him.
“Well, Percy is a lucky cuss at that,” he answered whimsically. “I only wish I had two such fair champions as he has in you girls.”
Their cries of protest were drowned in the roar of the motor as he set a fast pace for the Gaylor ranch.
It was dark when they drove into the grounds of the Gaylor ranch, and the girls gave a gasp of surprise when they saw a regular avenue of Japanese lanterns leading up to the main entrance.
“The Gaylor people certainly do things in style,” Mason said in admiration, as he brought the car to a stop in front of the porch.
The ranch house fairly blazed with different colored lanterns and a soft strain of music greeted their ears as Bruce Gaylor received them with a shout of welcome. In his breezy Western style he introduced them to his sisters and later to his parents and all the guests. A dance was in progress and Mason hastily made sure that he could have the next one with Josephine. A moment later he signaled Bruce out and called him over to them.
“I must say you have surprised me this night, Bruce,” he said gaily; “I didn’t suppose you could put on so fine a show as this, and I want to congratulate you. Why, this display matches our Eastern society dances. But there is one thing that sticks me, Bruce; you led me to suppose you had but one sister, and now I find you have two.”
“Yes, and hurry up and get them signed on your card. I will give you a straight tip, they are fine dancers,” he answered jovially, seizing the opportunity to ask Ethel for the next dance.
Mason had his dance with Josephine, and a little later when he came to look over her card he discovered to his dismay that he could only secure one of the remaining dances. Her list contained the name of Bud Anderson signed no less than six times.
When he mentioned this fact to her he thought her manner was a trifle cool, and try his best, it put a damper on his spirits. He strolled moodily out on the veranda where he could get a good view of the dancers. He lit a cigarette and was trying to enjoy a smoke when the orchestra struck up a waltz.
Josephine was dancing with Bud, and as they floated near to the window where he stood, he saw that she was laughing and chatting gaily with him. She certainly was paying particular attention to Bud this evening, and Mason realized that she had never been so friendly to him.
“Josephine loves Bud all right, and Jack, you are a damn fool to think she cares for you any more than a friend,” he mused, savagely grinding the cigarette under his heel. “Bud has the inside track and he has known her since she was a kid. Oh, I am a damned fool all right, but I sure do love her. None of my Eastern girl friends ever made me feel this way, and the Lord knows, I had plenty of them.”
He heard the rustle of a dress and turning his back drew further into the shadow. Footsteps sounded behind him and a hand was laid on his shoulder.
Turning reluctantly around he saw the smiling face of his sister gazing at him.
“So, here you are, and I have been looking all over the hall for you,” she cried triumphantly, “but, why the grouch, brother? You look as though you were attending a funeral instead of a dance.”
“My head felt dull and I came out to get the air,” he answered lamely.
Her eyes looked searchingly into his face.
“It is something more than that. Come, you can’t fool me, your sister. I know your disposition too well. Tell me what the trouble is, Jack, and maybe I can help you out.”
“Well,” he began, desperately, “it’s about Josephine. Have you noticed that she is dancing more often with Bud than anyone else?”
“Meaning yourself, I suppose,” she said with a laugh; “my, but how vain you men are, and I am sure you haven’t any strings on her?”
“That’s right, rub it in,” he grumbled.
She was tapping her fan lightly on his shoulder and smiling queerly at him.
“Well, let me give you a tip and see if you know enough to take advantage of it. When you come to know girls a little better you will learn to act quicker. Josephine hasn’t said a word to me, but I know I am right in this; she is merely dancing often with Bud to make you jealous.”
“What makes you think that?” he demanded eagerly.
She was turning to go and fired a bomb over her shoulder.
“You certainly are slow. When you looked Josephine’s dance card over early in the evening you failed to put your name down for more than one dance number.”
She left him with a tantalizing smile, while he cursed himself for an idiot.
“And I promised her some extra dances, too,” he groaned dismally; “Gee, Jack, you sure will have to square yourself somehow with Josephine, and I’ll get that last dance with her or there will be murder done here this night.”
He did manage to get the last dance with her, but her manner still continued cool towards him, and for all of his eager advances he felt he had made a dismal failure in winning her good graces.
The dance broke up at a late hour and Bruce Gaylor prevailed on Mason’s party to stay at the ranch over night, as he wanted to show them about the place the next day. He clinched his argument with Mason by saying he could leave any time the next day and could make the run back to Bar X ranch in quick time with his car. Bruce had already won Ethel and Josephine over to his plan, and under the circumstances Mason could not very well refuse.
The cowboys had already left as they had their duties to perform at Bar X. This left just Mason’s party with Waneda and Tex, as Bruce had decided the trip was too long for the Spanish girl to undertake in the dark, and as Tex had not fully recovered from his wound, the Gaylor people would not consent to his taking the ride back until the next day.
The girls readily consented to the plan as they were fatigued from the dance, and when Mason finally turned in for the night he was tired enough to thank Bruce most heartily for his hospitality.
The next morning he awoke considerably refreshed and looking at his watch he was surprised to find he had slept until nine A.M. He dressed hastily and going out into the ranch grounds found his host conducting his sister and Josephine about the place.
Mason joined them and was told by his host that they had just started for the house to have breakfast.
“Then I am just in time,” he said cheerfully, watching Josephine closely to see if she showed any signs of relenting toward him. “I was afraid I had made you all late by my tardiness.”
They spent a pleasant morning about the ranch and Mason had to admire the well kept buildings. The Gaylor ranch differed in design from the Bar X ranch which was of a Colonial type of construction. The Gaylor ranch was a magnificent building finished in stucco work, but Mason liked the Bar X ranch better, with its huge columns and strictly Southern type. In the afternoon, Bruce provided horses and they started for a ride over the range.
“It won’t make any difference if you people don’t start back until night,” Bruce insisted; “and by the way, Jack, if you need any gasoline I have plenty of it in the storehouse. We use a gasoline engine to do some of our work here and I see you have powerful lights on your car, so why worry?”
“Oh, that will be fine,” Josephine cried in delight, “and I only hope we will have a moonlight night.”
“All right,” Mason agreed, pleased beyond measure that the idea suited his girl, for he had come to the point of secretly calling Josephine his girl now.
“I may have to call on you for gas at that, Bruce, although my tank was full when I left the Bar X ranch. Safety first, you know.”
If Josephine had held any vexation against Mason the night before, all traces of it had vanished by now, and she graciously permitted him to ride by her side while Bruce and Ethel rode slightly in advance of them. Both girls were in high spirits and the laughter and witty repartee that passed among them was sparkling with good humor. There was a charm about this girl at his side that drew him to her as a magnet draws steel. Unconsciously Mason pressed his horse closer to hers until he was aware that she was smiling at him under almost closed lashes.
“I don’t see any occasion for you to try and run my horse down,” she said, smiling at him.
He eased his horse away, feeling provoked at himself.
“There, that’s better,” she said gently; “I suppose the first thing I know you will be trying to make love to me again.”
“I will most certainly if I get you out alone in my car sometime.”
“That makes me think of something. You promised to teach me how to drive, and if you remember, the last time I tried it was when we went to Trader’s Post. You know I am very anxious to learn.”
“Just as soon as we get home again I will promise to take you out and keep you at it until you do learn, and I will tell you truly that you did fine that day.”
“Yes, just about like you promised me those extra dances last night,” Josephine was pouting prettily now.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself immensely with Bud last night, I thought,” he said surlily. It was a tender spot with him.
“And why not? He’s a splendid dancer.”
Her eyes were dancing with mischief as she fenced words with him like a skilful swordsman.
He flung his hands up in mock despair.
“A truce,” he cried gaily, “I solemnly swear to make you an expert driver the first time we go for an automobile ride. Now, does that suit you, my Princess?”
“Yes, and I will hold you to your promise, Sir Jack.”
“You see,” he continued, “in making you that promise I have secret designs on you.”
Her blue eyes opened wide.
“And what are they?”
“That I have hope of succeeding in keeping you away from Bud Anderson for a short time, at least,” he answered.
Josephine laughed a silvery laugh.
“What in the world are you two chatting about?” Ethel called back to them.
“Sir Jack just said something funny,” Josephine answered, smiling roguishly at him.
“It may seem funny to you; but I mean it,” he said frowning.
“My, but you can get serious at times, Sir Jack.”
Ethel fell back and joined in the conversation, and Mason had to stand some good natured raillery from the girls until Bruce came to his rescue by calling his attention to a group of riders on their right.
They were less than a quarter of a mile away and were riding slowly on almost a parallel line with Bruce’s party. There appeared to be four men in the group, and Mason looked at them in surprise.
“Wonder where those fellows came from,” he observed; “queer we didn’t see them before this.”
“They just broke out from behind that knoll,” Bruce answered, indicating with a wave of his hand a rise in the plain. “And they don’t belong on my ranch either,” he continued; “my men never ride this range only in pairs. They seem to be observing us pretty close too. Shall we ride over their way?”
Mason started to agree, but the girls put up such a protest against it that he abandoned the idea. On second thought he reasoned it would be doing the girls an injustice if the strangers should turn out to be enemies and a fight might be the result.
They were too far away to make out their features and he noticed with a feeling of relief that they had spurred their horses and were setting rapidly off in a different direction.
“Did you recognize any of those men, Mr. Gaylor?” Josephine questioned.
“No,” he answered guardedly with a sidelong glance at Mason. “The distance was too great to make out their features.”
Afterwards on their way back to the ranch, Bruce seizing a favorable opportunity, confided to Mason in an undertone that he was sure he had recognized one of the men as Spot Wells.
“Well, don’t let the girls know, as it would worry them to death,” he cautioned Bruce after he had recovered from his surprise. “I am more than glad that we didn’t start after them as there would have been a hot fight on our hands. I know the girls have been enjoying this outing immensely, thanks to you, old man, and I don’t want anything to happen to mar their happiness. What makes you think one of them was Spot Wells? I couldn’t have told my own father at that distance.”
“I didn’t recognize him until they turned their horses and started to ride off,” Bruce answered. “I can tell Spot Wells by the way he rides; he used to be a jockey and has never gotten over the habit of riding well forward on a horse’s neck. Just as they started off I noticed him take that position.”
“Now that you mention the fact, I noticed one of them rode in a different style when they started that spurt,” Mason admitted.
The girls were riding up closer to them, putting a stop to their conversation, and commenced to banter them for neglecting their charges.
It was well towards evening when they arrived at the ranch and after supper Mason got his car out and looked at the sky. There was not a star in sight. Bruce wanted them to remain over and start early the next morning, but Josephine would not hear to it. Mason seated the girls and switched the powerful lights on.
“I’m sorry we haven’t the nice moonlight night you wished for, Josephine,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t care, when we have such fine lights as you have on your car,” she answered naïvely: “isn’t it wonderful? Why, I can see the trail just as well as in the day time.”
He smiled at her childlike enthusiasm. This Western girl could appreciate a ride in a fast car at night with the trail lighted up with powerful headlights. It appealed to her fancy as she had spent all her life riding the range on horseback, but when it came night she had to spend her time about the ranch house.
Mason wondered what would be her thoughts if she could see Fifth Avenue in New York at night with its countless automobiles and glaring headlights. He mentally resolved that she should see them if it lay in his power, and the only bar to his ambition lay in Bud Anderson. The thought almost caused him to groan out loud, when suddenly he realized that the object of his thoughts was regarding him gravely.
“Sir Jack,” she cried with an attempt at severity.
He turned and looked at her guiltily.
“If you are going to sit there and moon-gaze when there isn’t any moon, then I will have to take the wheel and drive. Here comes Mr. Gaylor to say good-bye to us.”
Mason thanked his host warmly for his hospitality. Ethel and Josephine joined in by asking him to visit Bar X ranch and bring his sisters to pay them a call. On his promise to come when he found an opportunity, Mason started the car off amid a loud roar from the motor. It was a delightful night for a ride as the day had been hot and the soft cool night air in their faces with the humming of the motor almost lulled them to sleep. The girls had little to say, being content to lie back and enjoy the ride, watching the trail shown by the glare of the headlights.
Half the distance to Bar X had been covered, when the night air freshening up a bit, he ordered the girls to wrap themselves up more warmly.
He had slowed the car down considerably while this was being accomplished, and then seeing that his charges were again made comfortable, he started the car off at a high rate of speed.
The car was easily taking the rises in the trail at this new speed and Mason was figuring that they would arrive at Bar X in about a half hour.
Suddenly they were startled by the sharp crack of a rifle causing the girls to scream in terror, while one of the rear tires blew out with a loud report. For a moment the car plunged wildly, and Mason with his face drawn white managed by a supreme effort to bring it under control.