"And if you got pinched, first thing you'd sing out 'Fadeaway,' and then me for over the road, eh?"

"Honest, Fade. I'll swear that I won't give you away, even if I get caught. Here's my hand on it."

"Give me nine hundred and I'll go you," said Fadeaway, shaking hands with his companion.

Corliss hesitated. Was the risk worth but half the money involved?

"Five's a whole lot, Fade."

"Well, seein' you're goin' to do the gettin' at it, why, mebby I'd risk it for five hundred. I dunno."

"You said you'd stand by a pal, Fade. Now's your chance."

"All right. See here, Bill. You cut out the booze all you can to-day.

Foot it out to the Beaver Dam to-night and I'll have a hoss for you.

We can ride up the old canon trail. n.o.body takes her nowadays, so we'll be under cover till we hit the ford. We can camp there back in the brush and tackle her next evenin'. So-long."

Fadeaway was downstairs and out on the street before Corliss realized that he had committed himself to a desperate and dangerous undertaking.

He recalled the expression in Fadeaway's eyes when they had shaken hands. Unquestionably the cowboy meant business.

CHAPTER IX

SUNDOWN'S FRIEND

Bud Shoop was ill.u.s.trating, with quaint and humorous gestures and adjectives, one of his early experiences as Ranger on the Apache Reservation. The men, grouped around the night-fire, smoked and helped the tale along with reminiscent suggestions and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of interest and curiosity. In the midst of a vivid account of the juxtaposition of a telephone battery and a curious yet unsuspicious Apache, Shoop paused in the recital and gazed out across the mesa.

"It's the boss," he said, getting to his feet. "Wonder what's up?"

Corliss rode into camp, swung from the saddle, and called to Shoop.

The men gazed at each other, nodded, and the words "Loring" and "sheep," punctuated their mutterings.

Shoop and Corliss talked together. Then the foreman called to Hi Wingle, asking him how the "chuck" was holding out.

"Runnin' short on flour and beans, Bud. Figured on makin' the Concho to-morrow."

Corliss and his foreman came to the fire. "Boss says we're goin' to bush here the rest of this week," and Corliss nodded.

"I'm expecting company on the west side," explained Corliss,

The men gazed at each other knowingly.

"All right," said Wingle. "Four sacks of flour and a sack of frijoles'll see us through. Got enough other stuff."

"Send some one in for it," ordered Corliss. "I'm going to stay with the outfit, from now on."

The men cheered. That was the kind of a boss to work for! No settin'

back and lettin' the men do the fightin'! Some style to Jack Corliss!

All of which was subtly expressed in their applause, although unspoken.

"To see that you boys don't get into mischief," continued Corliss, smiling.

"Which means keepin' other folks out of mischief, eh, patron?" said a cow-puncher.

At the word "patron" the men laughed. "They're talkin' of turnin' this outfit into a sheep-camp," remarked another. "Ba-a-ah!" And again they laughed.

Shoop motioned to Sundown who rose from beside the fire. "You can saddle up, Sun."

Sundown caught up his horse and stood waiting while one of the men saddled two pack-animals. "Tony has the keys. He'll pack the stuff for you," said Corliss. "Keep jogging and you ought to be back here by sunup."

The a.s.sistant cook mounted and took the lead-rope of the pack-horses.

He was not altogether pleased with the prospect of an all-night ride, but he knew that he had been chosen as the one whose services could most easily be dispensed with at the camp. Silently he rode away, the empty kyacks clattering as the pack-horses trotted unwillingly behind him. Too busy with the unaccustomed lead-rope to roll cigarettes, he whistled, and, in turn, recited verse to keep up his spirits.

About midnight he discerned the outline of the low ranch-buildings and urged his horse to a faster gait. As he pa.s.sed a clump of cottonwoods, his horse snorted and shied. Sundown reined him in and leaned peering ahead. The pack-animals tugged back on the rope. Finally he coaxed them past the cottonwoods and up to the gate. It was open, an unusual circ.u.mstance which did not escape his notice. He drifted through the shadows toward the corral, where he tied the horses. Then he stepped to the bunk-house, found a lantern and lighted it. He hallooed. There was no response. He stalked across to the ranch-house. He found the door unlocked. "Hi! Tony!" he called. No one answered. He pushed the door open and entered. Holding the lantern above his head he peered around the room.

In the dim light of the lantern vague outlines took shape. He noticed that the small safe in the corner was open. He became alarmed and again called. He heard a slight movement behind him and turned to see the door close. From behind stepped a figure, a slender figure that seemed unreal, yet familiar. With a cry of surprise he jumped back and stood facing his old friend and companion of the road, Will Corliss.

"Billy!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, backing away and staring.

"Yes, it's Billy." And Corliss extended his hand.

"But--what, where--?" Sundown hesitated and glanced at the safe. His eyes widened and he lowered the lantern. "Billy!" he said, ignoring the other's proffered hand, "what you doin' here?"

Corliss a.s.sumed a nonchalant air. "Shake, pal! It's a long time since we been in a wreck, eh?"

Sundown was silent, studying the other's hardened features. "Billy!"

he reiterated, "what you doin' here?"

Corliss laughed nervously. "What are you doing here?" he retorted,--"in the office of the Concho, at midnight?"

"I was comin' to get flour and beans for the camp--" he began.

Corliss interrupted him. "Sounds good, that! But they don't keep the grub here. Guess you made a mistake."

Sundown's face was expressionless. "Guess you made the mistake, Billy.

I thought you was--dead."

"Not on your tin-type, Sun."

"I never thought you was crooked, Billy."

"Crooked!" flashed Corliss. "Say, you--you forget it. I'm here to get what's coming to me. Jack turned me down, so I'm going to take what's mine."

"Mebby it's yours, but you ain't gettin' it right," said Sundown.

"I--I--never thought you was--"

"Oh, cut that out! You didn't used to be so dam' particular."

"I never swiped a cent in me life, Billy."