"He was, but Block ain't paid for his last eight shoein's, an' Piney can't collect, an' now he ain't got a bit o' use for the sheriff. Some day soon there's goin' to be a battle. Downin' the Sheriff o' Sunset just about put the hat on the climax. Folks'll take us for a gang o'

murderers. Well, I'm ready. Got this Greener an' a buffler gun an'

four hundred cartridges. Oh, I'm ready, you bet!"

Loudon, leading the two horses, rejoined his comrade. The animals were fractious, yet Loudon and Laguerre swung into their saddles without losing for an instant the magic of the drop.

"We got here without no trouble," Loudon observed in a loud tone.

"We're goin' back the way we came. We'll hope that n.o.body turns loose any artillery from the sidewalk. If they do you fellahs won't live a minute."

No shots disturbed the almost pastoral peace of Farewell as prisoners and guards retraced their steps. Opposite the sheriff's shack the convoy began to lag.

"Keep a-goin'," admonished Loudon. "We don't like to part with yuh just yet."

The prisoners were driven to where a tall spruce grew beside the Paradise Bend trail, three miles from Farewell.

"Yuh can stop here," said Loudon. "We'll drop yore guns an' belts a couple o' miles farther on. We're goin' back to the Bend, an' we'll tell the boys what a rattlin' reception yuh give me an' my friend. If yuh see Sam Blakely, Block, don't forget to tell him I was a heap disappointed not to find him to-day. So long, sports, yo're the easiest bunch o' longhorns I ever seen."

Loudon laughed in the sheriff's blood-caked face, and set spurs to his horse.

"How far we go, huh?" queried Laguerre, when a fold in the ground concealed the tall spruce.

"About four mile. There's a draw runnin' southeast. We'll ride down that. We'd ought to be at the Cross-in-a-box round two o'clock. We could turn off right after we dump this a.s.sortment o' cannons. They won't follow us to see whether I told 'em the truth or not. They'll just keep right on believin' we're a-headin' for the Bend hot-foot."

"I guess dey weel. Say, my frien', why deed'n you geet dat warran'

from de sher'f un mak heem eat eet? I would, me."

"I don't want to let on I know anythin' about the warrant. Block wants to spring it nice an' easy. All right--let him."

Between two and three in the morning they dismounted in front of the Cross-in-a-box ranch house. Loudon pushed open the front door and walked in. He closed the door and set his back against it.

"Hey, Jack!" he called. "Wake up!"

"Who's there?" came in the incisive voice of Richie, accompanied by a double click.

"It's me--Tom Loudon. I want to see yuh a minute."

"That's good hearin'. I'll be right out. Light the lamp, will yuh, Tom?"

Tousle-headed Jack Richie brisked into the dim circle of lamplight and gripped his friend's hand. He was unfeignedly glad to see Loudon.

"C'mon where it's light," invited Richie. "What yuh standin' by the door for? I'll turn the lamp up."

"No, yuh won't. Don't touch the lamp, Jack. There's plenty o' light for my business. I'm standin' here 'cause I don't want n.o.body to know I come here to-night--n.o.body but you an' Ramsay."

"I see," said Richie. "Want a hoss?"

"No, ours'll do. Yeah, I've got a friend with me. I can't bring him in. Got to be movin' right quick. I just stopped to know could I borrow Johnny Ramsay for a while. It's on account o' the 88 outfit."

"Yuh sh.o.r.e can. The 88, huh? Well, I wish yuh luck. When yuh need any more help, let me know."

"Thanks, Jack. I knowed I could count on yuh."

"I'll get Johnny right away."

"No, to-morrow 'll do. There's somethin' I want Johnny to do first.

I'd like him to ride over to the Bar S an' tell Chuck Morgan that if he feels like makin' a change there's a job waitin' for him at the Flyin'

M. I hate to take one of his men away from Old Salt, but it's root hog or die. I need another man, an' Chuck'll just fill the bill."

"Lemme fix it up. I can borrow Chuck for yuh. Old Salt'll listen to me. No, I won't have to tell him nothin' about yore business. Leave it to me."

"All right. That's better'n takin' Chuck away from him. Yuh needn't mention no name, but yuh can guarantee to Old Salt that Chuck's wages will be paid while he's off, o' course. Yuh can tell Chuck on the side that Scotty Mackenzie will do the payin'."

"Scotty, huh? I did hear how he lost a bunch o' hosses. How many--two hundred, wasn't it?"

"One hundred. But that's enough."

"Yuh don't suspect the 88, do yuh? Why, the Flyin' M is two hundred mile north."

"What's two hundred mile to the 88? An' didn't Scotty ride it just to find out whether I was straight or a murderer?"

"He sh.o.r.e did," laughed Richie. "Yuh couldn't blame the old jigger, though. That 88 brand on yore hoss was misleadin' some."

"That hoss o' mine's been stole. Yep, lifted right in the street in Paradise Bend. Rufe Cutting done it."

"I don't remember him. Is he anybody special besides a hoss thief?"

"Friend o' Blakely's. Block says Rufe's drifted south--him an' the hoss. But Block may be lyin'. Yuh can't tell."

"Did the sheriff give yuh that information free of charge?"

"Not so yuh could notice it. I got it out of him with a quirt, an' I had to drill both his ears, he was that stubborn."

"Drilled both his ears. Well! Well! Yuh'd ought to have killed him."

"I know it. He went an' got Shorty Simms to kill the Sheriff o'

Sunset."

"What?"

"Sh.o.r.e. It was thisaway."

Loudon related the circ.u.mstances of the sheriff's murder.

"An'," he said in conclusion, "Sunset ain't a-goin' to take it kindly."

"Which I should say not! His friends'll paint for war, that's a cinch.

This country's gettin' worse an' worse!"

"No, only the people are, an' maybe we can get some of 'em to change.

But I been here too long already. We're ridin' to Marysville, Jack, an' we aim to stay there a couple o' days. Tell Johnny an' Chuck to meet us there, an' tell 'em not to bawl out my name when they see me.