"Wait a shake," said Scotty, sliding between Loudon and Block. "Let me get the straight of this. You accuse Loudon here of brandin' 88 cattle?"

"Sh.o.r.e," insisted the stubborn Block, "an' he stole that chestnut hoss he's ridin', too. Just look at the 88 brand. It's plain as day."

"Suh," burst out Burr, "I happened to be at the 88 ranch the day my friend Tom Loudon bought that chestnut hoss. I saw him pay Blakely.

Everybody in Fo't Creek County knows that Tom Loudon has owned that hoss fo' upwa'ds of a yeah. You know it, you rascal! Don't attempt to deny it!"

To this sweeping a.s.sertion Block made no reply.

"I guess now that settles half the cat-hop," said Scotty. "The other half I know somethin' about myself. Jack Richie o' the Cross-in-a-box told me. It was thisaway----"

And Scotty related the tale of Marvin and Rudd and the Crossed Dumbbell cow and calf.

"Now what yuh got to say?" Scotty demanded of Block when the story was told.

"What can I do?" snapped Block. "It's a whole town agin' one man.

I'll get a warrant, an' yuh can gamble on that. If I thought I'd get a square deal, I'd admire to shoot it out."

"Gimme my gun," begged Loudon. "Gimme it, or lend me one, somebody.

He wants to shoot it out."

"No," said Scotty, firmly, "it's gone beyond shootin'. Block knowed you was innocent. He couldn't help knowin' it. He tried to work such a sneakin', low-down trick that killin' don't seem to fit somehow.

He'd ought to be rode on a rail or buried up to his neck or somethin'."

"Tar an' feather him," suggested Mrs. Burr.

"We ain't got no tar," said Jim Mace, "an' there ain't a chicken in the place."

"There's mola.s.ses an' goose-hair quilts in the Chicago Store," said Mrs. Burr, helpfully. "What more do yuh want?"

Mola.s.ses and feathers! Here was an extravagant j.a.pe! Block's hand swept downward. But no smooth revolver-b.u.t.t met his clutching fingers.

A far-seeing soul had, in the confusion, adroitly removed the sheriff's six-shooter.

In all seriousness the men of Paradise Bend set about their work. They saw no humour in the shriekingly grotesque business. Sheriff Block essayed to struggle. But Scotty and other leading citizens attached themselves to his arms and legs and pulled him down and sat upon him.

When one came running with a five-gallon jug of mola.s.ses Block, uttering strange cries, was spread-eagled. From his forehead to his feet the mola.s.ses was thickly applied. When the front of him had been thoroughly daubed, he was rolled over upon a ripped-up quilt--this so that none of the mola.s.ses might be wasted--and a fresh jug was brought into play.

Dripping like a buckwheat cake, writhing in an agony of shame, Block was rolled up in the quilt. Then the quilt was torn away and men showered upon him the contents of other quilts. The Paradise Benders used up ten gallons of mola.s.ses and three quilts on Block, and they made a complete job. Awful was the wreck that staggered down the street.

Somehow the sheriff contrived to reach the stable where he had left his horse, and somehow--for his movements were the movements of one far gone in drink--he threw on the saddle and pa.s.sed the cinch-straps.

Mounting with difficulty, he rode away. None offered to molest him further.

CHAPTER X

THE HORSE THIEF

Loudon, who had taken no part in the feathering, watched the departure of the sheriff with brooding eyes. He did not agree with Scotty Mackenzie and the citizens of the Bend. In his estimation the punishment had not been sufficiently drastic. Alive and in possession of all his faculties the sheriff was a great power for evil. He would seek revenge.

Loudon swore softly. He was far from being a bloodthirsty man, but he regarded the killing of Block as a duty. And he did not believe in putting off till some future date what could be accomplished to-day.

"It's quite a list," he said to himself. "Block, Rufe Cutting, Blakely, an' the whole 88 outfit. An' they won't be happy till they get me. It kind o' looks as if Blakely ain't expectin' to keep our little engagement in Farewell. Block wouldn't 'a' come up here without Blakely sent him."

Thoughts of Blakely quite naturally induced thoughts of Pete O'Leary.

Where was O'Leary? Loudon recollected that he had not seen O'Leary in the crowd. He looked up and down the street. O'Leary was nowhere in sight. His absence was a small thing in itself, but it might signify a guilty conscience. Loudon wondered.

That disreputable person, Scotty Mackenzie, approached, leading his horse.

"Tom," said Scotty, his blue eyes twinkling, "don't look so downhearted. He wasn't worth shootin'."

"I dunno, Scotty," replied Loudon. "It'll come to it some day, or I miss my guess."

"Yuh'll miss it while yo're workin' for me. Block won't never come to the Bend again, an' yuh can go the limit on that. D'juh get the mail?"

"I ain't been to the post office. Didn't have time. I've been right busy ever since I sifted in."

"I'll get it then. Cap'n Burr wants yuh to eat dinner at his house.

I'll drift round later. Better finish up what yuh come to town for before yuh eat."

"I come to town to meet you."

"To meet me!" exclaimed Scotty. "Now look here, Tom, do I look like I need a gardeen?"

"Didn't yuh write to Doubleday," said the bewildered Loudon, "tellin'

him to send me in to meet yuh here to-day an' for me to ride my own hoss?"

"What are yuh talkin' about? Me write Doubleday! I should say not!"

"Well, all I know is Doubleday got a letter from yuh, an' it was mailed in Rocket."

"Mailed in Rocket! Why, I never was in Rocket! It's just luck me bein' here to-day. If I hadn't met Ben Burr down at the Wagonwheel I wouldn't 'a' come for another couple o' days, mebbe."

"It's d.a.m.n funny. That letter from Rocket is no dream."

"I hope Doubleday saves the letter. Well, you go on an' eat. See yuh later."

Loudon swung into the saddle and galloped to the house of Captain Burr.

On the doorsill Dorothy Burr and Pete O'Leary sat side by side. As Loudon dismounted Miss Bunrose to meet him.

"Oh, Mr. Loudon!" she exclaimed, "I've just heard about your frightful experience. I wish I'd been there. I'd have enjoyed seeing them plaster up that brute of a sheriff."

"He did look kind o' odd," said Loudon. "Yore ma sh.o.r.e saved my life."

"Wasn't it luck Ma was down street? I usually go myself, but this morning Mr. O'Leary came, so Ma went. We didn't know there was anything going on till Ma came back and told us, and then it was all over. My! I'd like to have seen Ma talking to that stupid Dan Smith.

The big idiot! Ma's mad yet. Oh, I forgot. Have you met Mr. O'Leary?"

"I know him," said Loudon rather ungraciously, and nodded to the gentleman in question. "I guess I'll put the little hoss in the corral."