"Get up!" shouted Loudon. "Get up! It's only yore ear again. I used my own gun after all!"

Then, both what he had undergone at the hands of Block and the loss of his pet suddenly overwhelming him, he leaped at the crouching sheriff and kicked him.

"You ---- murderer!" he gritted through his teeth.

"Where's my hoss? Where is he? ---- yore soul! What did Rufe do to him? Tell me, or by ---- I'll beat yuh to death here an' now!"

And with his wire-bound Mexican quirt Loudon proceeded savagely to lash the sheriff. Loudon was a strong man. He struck with all his might.

The double thongs bit through vest and flannel shirt and raised raw welts on the flesh.

The sheriff writhed around and flung himself blindly at his torturer.

But Loudon kicked the sheriff in the chest and hurled him, a groaning heap, into his corner. Nor did he cease to thrash him with the quirt.

Between blows he bawled demands for news of his horse. Loudon felt sure that Ranger was dead, but he wished to clinch the fact.

"He's gone! Oh, my Gawd! He's gone south!" screamed Block, unable to withhold utterance another second.

Loudon held the quirt poised over his shoulder.

"Yuh mean Rufe Cutting?" he inquired.

"Both of 'em! Rufe an' the hoss! They're both gone!"

"Yuh mean Rufe has took my hoss away?"

"Yes! Yes! Don't hit me with that again."

Loudon did not know whether to believe the sheriff. It was more than possible that Block was lying to escape further punishment. Loudon stared at him. He made an ugly picture lying there on the floor, his face a network of red welts. His shirt was dabbled and stained with the blood from his wounded ears.

"I was goin' to give yuh a chance," said Loudon, slowly. "I was aimin'

to give yuh yore gun an' let yuh shoot it out with me. But I can't do that now. Yuh ain't in no shape for shootin'. It'd be like murder to down yuh, an' I ain't goin' to practise murder even on a dog like you.

I'm kind o' sorry I feel that way about it. Yuh don't deserve to live a minute."

"You keel heem," put in Laguerre. "She try for keel you een de Ben'.

Or I keel heem. I don' care. So she die, dat's enough."

"Can't be did, Telescope."

"I tell you, my frien', you let heem go, she mak plenty trouble."

"We've got to risk that. Yuh can't murder a man, Telescope. Yuh just can't."

Laguerre shrugged expressive shoulders and said no more. It was Loudon's business. He was boss of the round-up.

"Yuh see how it is, Block," observed Loudon. "I can't down yuh now, but next time we meet it's shoot on sight. Next time yuh see Blakely tell him I expected to meet him here in Farewell. I don't guess he'll come now. Still, on the off chance that he does, me an' my friend will stay till sunset. Telescope, I feel sort o' empty. Guess I'll go in the back room an' rustle some chuck."

While Loudon and Laguerre were eating, the sheriff fainted. The strain of standing upright combined with the rough handling he had received had proved too much for him. Laguerre threw the contents of the water bucket over the sheriff.

When the sheriff recovered consciousness Loudon gave the nine citizens permission to sit on the floor. And they sat down stiffly.

Slowly the long hours pa.s.sed. Occasionally Loudon walked to the door and looked up and down the street. Apparently Farewell dozed.

But it was far from being asleep. Here and there, leaning against the house walls in att.i.tudes of ease, were men. These men were posted in pairs, and Loudon saw Mike Flynn stumping from one couple to another.

One pair was posted across the street from the sheriff's shack. The first time Loudon appeared in the doorway these two nodded, and one waved his arm in friendly fashion. There were only twelve in all of these sentinels, but their positions had been chosen with strategic wisdom. Any attempt at a rescue would be disastrous to the rescuers.

"Well," said Loudon when the sun was near its setting, "we might as well be movin', Telescope."

"Mabbeso our hosses been rustle'," suggested Laguerre.

"If they are we'll get 'em back. Our friends here'll fix that up O.K."

The friends glared sullenly. They wanted blood, and lots of it. They had been stuck up and reviled, two of them had been wounded, and their self-respect had been grievously shattered. Vengeance would be very sweet. They wished for it with all the power of very evil hearts.

Loudon gathered up all the cartridge-belts and six-shooters and strung them together. He slung the bundle over his shoulder and addressed his captives.

"You fellahs stand on yore feet. Yo're goin' down street with us.

Telescope, I'll wait for 'em outside. Send 'em out, will yuh."

Loudon stepped into the street. One by one the men came out and were lined up two by two in the middle of the street.

The last man was the sheriff. He did not shamble, and he did not keep his eyes on the ground in the manner of a broken man. It was evident that the virtue which pa.s.sed with him for courage had returned. Even as Captain Burr had remarked, Sheriff Block was not as other men. He was a snake. Nothing but the bullet that killed him could have any effect upon his reptilian nature. This Loudon realized to the full.

"I'm watchin' yuh, Block," he said. "My hand ain't none shaky yet, even if I have been holdin' a gun on yuh all day."

Block shot him a venomous side glance and then looked straight ahead.

"Git along, boys," ordered Loudon. "We'll be right behind yuh."

With Loudon and Laguerre marching on the right and left flank rear respectively the procession trailed down the street till it arrived opposite Bill Lainey's hotel. There, in obedience to Loudon's sharp command, it halted. While Laguerre guarded the prisoners Loudon went to the corral. He found Lainey sitting on a wagon-box beside the gate, a double-barrelled shotgun across his knees. Lainey was excessively wide awake.

"Did somebody come a-lookin' in at our hosses?" drawled Loudon.

"Somebody did," wheezed Lainey. "Somebody near had both of 'em out the gate, but I had this Greener handy, an he faded. By ----! I'd sh.o.r.e admire to see any tin-horn rustle hosses out o' my corral. They're fed an' watered, Tom, an' my wife's done----"

"Yes, Mr. Loudon," interrupted Mrs. Lainey, sticking her lean head out of the kitchen window. "I knowed yuh wouldn't have no time to eat, so I just rolled up some canned tomatters an' canned peaches an' some beans an' some bacon an' a little jerked beef in yore slickers. Ain't it hot? My land! I'm most roasted to death. How'd yuh like it up no'th?"

"Fine, Mis' Lainey, fine," replied Loudon. "I'm obliged to yuh, ma'am.

I hope next time I'm in town I won't be so rushed an' I'll have time to stay awhile an' eat a reg'lar dinner. I tell yuh, ma'am, I ain't forgot yore cookin'."

"Aw, you go 'long!" Mrs. Lainey giggled with pleasure and withdrew her head.

"Bill," said Loudon, "yo're a jim-hickey, an' I won't forget it. Let's see--four feeds, two dinners. How much?"

"Nothin', Tom, nothin' a-tall. Not this trip. It's on the house.

This is the first time I ever had a real chance to pay yuh back for what yuh done for my kid. Don't say nothin', now. Tom, I kind o'

guess Farewell is due to roll over soon. Me an' Mike Flynn an' Piney Jackson, the blacksmith, an' a few o' the boys are gettin' a heap tired o' Block an' his little ways."

"I thought Piney was a friend o' Block's."