"Doubtless--doubtless. I trust some day to make the gentleman's acquaintance. As I was saying, these deputies may arrive at any time.

I do not believe they will come before to-morrow at the earliest. Yet one can never tell. Parts unknown are the best health resorts on earth at times like these."

"Yo're sh.o.r.e whistlin', Judge. I guess we'll pull our freight this afternoon or to-night."

When Loudon informed Laguerre in the privacy of their room of what the Judge had said, the swarthy man slapped his leg and laughed aloud.

"By Gar!" he exclaimed. "By Gar! Dat ees d.a.m.n fonny!" Then, in a lower tone, he added, "She sh.o.r.e one good feller. Wat was dose word she say--dose fonny word you not know w'at dey mean?"

"_Shershay la fam_."

"_Cherchez la femme_, huh? Dat ees _Francais_. Un it mean, 'Fin' de woman.'"

"'Find the woman'! I'd like to know what findin' the woman's got to do with it."

"I dunno. But dat's w'at de word mean, all right. W'at I wan' for know ees how de Judge she know so much 'bout you. She issue de warran', un now she not follow eet up. I do not understan', me."

"Me neither. Lend me yore knife, Telescope, will yuh? Yores is sharper'n mine, an' I got to cut some leather offen my chaps an' make me a new heel. I'll prob'ly have time to make me a whole new pair o'

boots an' a saddle before Johnny an' Chuck drift in. Which they're the slowest pair of bandits livin'. We'll give 'em till daylight to-morrow."

Marysville, whatever opinions it may have held concerning the shooting affray, did not openly disapprove. No one came forward to take up the quarrel of the Maxson brothers.

As to Archer, he sat alone in front of his dance hall. Loudon perceived, in the course of a casual stroll, that the man wore his spurs, and that two of the horses in the corral were saddled and bridled. He also noted that the five Barred Twin Diamond horses were still in the corral. He dropped in at the Judge's office.

"Judge," said Loudon, "it just struck me that somebody might want to buy that sorrel hoss o' yores. Yuh see, I've taken quite a fancy to that hoss. I might want to buy him myself some day. Would yuh mind hangin' on to him till I come back from where I'm goin'?"

"So that's how the wind blows?" the Judge said, disgustedly. "I might have known it, too. He was so cheap. Well, Mr. Franklin, you may rest a.s.sured that the sorrel horse remains in my possession until your return. Confound it all, I hate to part with him! He's a good horse."

"He's all that. But maybe, now, yore keepin' him could be arranged if you like him so much. I might not want him so bad after all."

"Corruption, corruption!" exclaimed Judge Allison, violently winking his right eye. "Would you bribe the bench, Mr. Franklin? No, not another word, sir. We are drawing a trifle ahead of our subject. Let me impress upon you the necessity for prompt action. I should make my departure before sunset, if I were you."

"Deputies?"

"As to them, I cannot say," said the Judge, shaking his head, "but I am of the opinion that Marysville will not be a health resort to-night.

The wicked walk in the darkness, you know, and not half-an-hour ago I heard something that makes me quite positive that the said evildoers will endeavour to walk to some purpose this evening. I was on the point of sending you warning when you came in."

"Now that's right friendly of yuh, Judge. Me an' my friend won't forget it. But ain't there just some chance o' these here evildoers a-comin' to see you?"

"I have a friend or two here myself. I told you this morning that I stand in no danger. I have had no reason to change my opinion."

"All right, you know best. I guess Telescope an' me'll pull our freight instanter. We won't wait for my friends. When they come would yuh mind tellin' 'em we've gone to Damson?"

"I shall be delighted. Who are your friends?"

"Johnny Ramsay o' the Cross-in-a-box an' Chuck Morgan o' the Bar S."

"'Chuck Morgan.' Well do I know the gentleman. I fined him twenty-five dollars last fall for riding his horse into Billy West's saloon, roping the stove, and trying to drag it through the doorway."

"That's Chuck all over! But he didn't tell the Bar S nothin' about a fine."

"The Bar S! What are you talking about? You're from the southern ranges, and I'd advise you not to forget it."

"I won't again," Loudon grinned. "So long, Judge, an' we're obliged to yuh for----"

"For nothing! For nothing! And don't forget that either. Now good-bye and good luck."

Loudon and Laguerre, having paid their bill, left the hotel by the back way. A pale little man, one of the dance-hall fiddlers, was flirting with the cook at the kitchen doorway. When the two men appeared, carrying their saddles and rifles, the pale one glided swiftly around the corner of the house.

"See that?" muttered Loudon, cinching up rapidly.

Laguerre nodded.

"---- 'em!" he whispered. "Hope dey follow! By Gar! I do, me!"

"No use tryin' to slide out past the corral now," said Loudon. "We might as well use Main Street."

They were glad of their decision. They rode into Main Street just in time to see Archer and a companion turning the corner of the dance hall. The Flying M men headed northward. The other two turned their horses' heads to the south.

Where Main Street became the trail, Loudon and Laguerre swung eastward and loped steadily for several miles. When their shadows were long in front of them they climbed the reverse slope of a little hill.

Picketing their horses below the crest they lay down behind an outcrop and watched the back trail. Within thirty minutes appeared two dots on a ridge three miles distant.

"Just like wolves, ain't they?" chuckled Loudon, and wriggled backward.

"We weel bushwhack dem here, huh?" growled Laguerre. "Eet ees de good pla.s.s. Dey weel pa.s.s on our trail not two hundred yard away. We geet dem easy."

"No, not yet, Telescope," said Loudon. "It ain't necessary, anyhow.

We'll ride on till it gets dark. Then we'll light a fire an' vamose, an' leave them holdin' the bag."

"Dat ees all right," Laguerre said, "but keelin' ees better. W'y not?

No one weel know. Un eef dey do, w'at mattair? Dey are de teenhorn.

We weel have dat all prove'. I say, keel dem, me."

Unconsciously Laguerre fingered the handle of his skinning-knife.

Loudon laughed.

"C'mon," he said. "There'll be enough o' killin' before this job's over."

Grumbling, for to him an ambush was such a ridiculously simple method of disposing of two enemies, Laguerre followed his comrade. They rode till night came on. Then, in the middle of a mile-wide flat, where cottonwoods grew beside a tiny creek, they dismounted and loosened cinches.

Hobbled, their bridles off, the horses grazed. Laguerre, still protesting, made the fire. He built it cunningly, after the Indian manner, with an arrangement of sticks to leeward, so that it would burn slowly and for a long time.

"Dere," said Laguerre, as the flames bit and took hold, "dat weel fool dem. But I t'ink de Winchestair be de bes' t'ing, me."

Loudon laughed as he swung into the saddle. Inwardly he quite agreed with Laguerre in the matter of an ambush. Enemies should be crushed as expeditiously and with as little danger to one's self as possible. Yet Loudon was too humanly normal to practise the doctrine in all its ruthlessness. To do that one must be either a great general or a savage. Laguerre was not abnormal, but he was half Indian, and at times he became wholly one. This was one of the times.

For three miles the two men rode in the creek water, then, guided by the stars, they headed southwest. Toward midnight they came upon a well-marked trail. They knew it could be none other than the trail to Blossom, and they turned into it. Under the spell of the horses'

steady walk-along Laguerre became reminiscent.