The Deputy--who with Trinidad and Sonora had come running in, the latter carrying a boot-leg and a stove-polishing brush in his hand--took the letter and started in search of the Wells Fargo Agent who, Rance had told them, had gone to sleep.

"Well, boys, how d'you like bein' snowed in for a week?" asked The Pony Express, warming himself by the stove; and then without waiting for an answer he rattled on: "There's a rumour at The Ridge that you all let Ramerrez freeze an' missed a hangin'. Say, they're roarin' at you, chaps!" And with a "So long, boys!" he strode out of the room.

Sonora started in hot pursuit after him, hollering out:

"Wait! Wait!" And when The Pony Express halted, he added: "Says you to the boys at The Ridge as you ride by, the Academy at Cloudy is open to-day full blast!"

"Whoopee! Whoop!" chimed in Trinidad and began to execute a _pas seul_ in the middle of the room, dropping into a chair just in time to avoid running into Nick, who hurriedly returned with two gla.s.ses and a bottle.

"Help yourselves, boys," he said; which they did to the accompaniment of a succession of joyous yells from Trinidad.

Meantime Rance had relighted the burnt-out cigar which he had been holding for some time between his fingers, and was sending curls of smoke upwards towards the ceiling.

"Academy," he sneered.

Sonora surveyed him critically for some moments; at length he said:

"Say, Rance, what's the matter with you? We began this Academy game together--we boys an' the Girl--an' there's a d.a.m.n pretty piece of sentiment back of it. She's taught some of us our letters, and--"

"He's a wearin' mournin' because Johnson didn't fall alive into his hands," interposed Trinidad with a laugh.

"Is that it?" queried Sonora.

"Ain't it enough, Rance, that he must be lyin' dead down some canyon, with his mouth full of snow?" A mocking smile was on Trinidad's face as he asked the question.

"You done all you could to git 'im," went on Sonora as if there had been no interruption. "The boys is all satisfied he's dead."

"Dead?" Rance fairly picked up the word. "Dead? Yes, he's dead," he declared tensely, and unconsciously arose and went over to the window where he stood motionless, gazing through the parted curtains at the snow-covered hills. Presently the boys saw a cynical smile spread over his face, and a moment later, he added: "The matter with me is that I'm a c.h.i.n.k."

This depreciation of himself was so thoroughly un-Rance like, that it brought forth great bursts of laughter from the men, but notwithstanding which, Rance went on to admit, in the same sullen tone, that it was all up with him and the Girl.

"Throwed 'im!" whispered Trinidad to Sonora with a pleased look on his face.

Sonora, likewise, was beaming with joy when almost instantly he turned to Nick with:

"As sure's you live she's throwed 'im for me!"

Nick, among his other accomplishments, had a faculty for dumbness and said nothing; but a smile which approached a grin formed on his face as he stood eyeing quizzically first one and then the other. Finally, picking up the empty gla.s.ses, he left the room.

"Will old dog Tray remember me"--immediately sung out Trinidad, gleefully. While Sonora, in the seventh heaven of delight, began to caper about the room. Of a sudden Nick poked his head in through the door to inquire into the cause of their hilarity, but they ignored him completely. At the bar-room door, however, Sonora halted and, glancing over his shoulder in the Sheriff's direction, he added in a most tantalising manner:

". . . for me!"

But while Trinidad and Sonora were going out through one door the Deputy was entering through another. He was greatly agitated and carried in his hand the letter which The Pony Express had entrusted to his keeping for Ashby.

"Why, Ashby's skipped!" he announced uneasily. "Got off just after three this morning--posse and all."

A question was in Nick's eyes as he turned upon the speaker with the interjection:

"What!" And then as the Deputy made a dash for the bar-room, he added with a swift change of manner: "Help yourself, Dep."

But if Nick was slow to realise the situation, not so the Sheriff, who instantly awoke to the fact that the Wells Fargo Agent was on Johnson's trail. His lips drew quickly back in a half-grin.

"Ashby's after Johnson," presently he said with a savage little laugh.

"Nick, he was watchin' that greaser . . . Took him ten minutes to saddle up--Johnson has ten minutes' start"--He broke off abruptly and ended impatiently with: "Oh, Lord, they'll never get him! He's a wonder on the road--you've got to take your hat off to the d.a.m.n cuss!" And with a dig at the other's ribs that was half-playful, half-serious, he was off in pursuit of Ashby.

A moment later the miners began to pile in for school, whooping and yelling, their feet covered with snow. Sonora led with an armful of wood, which he deposited on the floor beside the stove; then came Handsome Charlie and Happy Halliday, together with Old Steady and Bill Crow, who immediately dropped on all fours and began to play leap-frog.

"Boys gatherin' for school," observed Trinidad, hurriedly opening the door; and while the men proceeded to flock in, he got into his jacket which lay on a chair beside the teacher's desk.

"Here, Trin, here's the book!" cried out Happy Halliday; and the book, which was securely tied in a red cotton handkerchief, went flying through the air.

In those few words the signal was given; the fun was on in earnest.

Instantly the miners--veritable school-boys they were, so genuine was their merriment--braced themselves for a catch of the book, which had landed safely in Trinidad's hands. Now it was aimed at Sonora, who caught it on the fly; from Sonora it travelled to Old Steady, who sent it whizzing over to Handsome. Now the Deputy made ready to receive it; but instead it landed once more in Sonora's hands amidst cheers of "Come on, Sonora! Whoopee! Whoop!"

"Sh-sh-sh, boys!" warned the Deputy as Sonora was about to send the book on another expedition through the air; "here comes the noo scholar from Watson's."

An ominous hush fell upon the room. One could have heard a pin drop as the school settled itself down with antic.i.p.atory grins that said, "What won't we do to Bucking Billy!" Therefore, there was not an eye that was not upon the new pupil when with dinner-pail swinging on one arm and the other holding tightly onto a small slate, he slowly advanced towards them.

"Did you ever play Lame Soldier, m' friend?" was Sonora's greeting, while the miners crowded around them.

"No," replied the big, raw-boned, gullible-looking fellow with a grin.

"We'll play it after school; you'll be the stirrup," promised Sonora; then turning to his mates with a laugh, which was un.o.bserved by Bucking Billy, he added: "We'll initiate 'im."

Presently the miners began to move away and Trinidad, picking up a chip which he espied under a bench, put it on his shoulder and stood in the centre of the room, thereby indirectly challenging the new pupil to a scrimmage.

"Don't do it!" cried Old Steady as he hung up his hat upon a buck's horn on the wall.

"Go on! Go on!" encouraged Bill Crow, hanging up his hat beside Old Steady's.

The boys took up his words in chorus.

"Go on! Go on!"

Whereupon, Sonora made a dash far the chip and knocked it off of Trinidad's shoulder, blazing huskily into his face as he did so:

"You do, do you?"

In the twinkling of an eye Trinidad's jacket was off and the two men were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle.

"Soak him!" came from a voice somewhere in the crowd.

"Hit him!" urged another.

"Bat him in the eye!" shrieked Handsome Charlie.

Finally Sonora succeeded in throwing down his opponent and sent him rolling along the floor, the contents of his pockets marking his trail.