The cowboy flushed with embarra.s.sment. "You ain't got no call to thank me, Mr. Traynor. Peanut done it, not me. He just busted hisself gettin'

here in time. I never seen him run so fast. Looked like he knowed it was up to him and he done it."

"Peanut can't have all the credit," responded Traynor. Then he drew a letter from his pocket. "Doctor Powell has written me that he would like to make you his partner in the P L ranch and cattle, provided it would not interfere with my plans."

Limber looked up in open surprise. "I ain't got enough to pay for 'em"

he said. "I only saved up nine hundred dollars, all told."

"Well, Powell says if you won't accept half interest, he will close out his cattle entirely. The Sanitarium will take all his time and attention, and he wanted you to handle the stock for him. I wrote him I would be glad to see you two in partnership."

The cowboy stared at the ground. "I don't say that I wouldn't be glad to take the chanct, because I've been savin' up hopin' some day I could buy a bunch of stock; but I can't let him give it to me. I can't owe no man, Mr. Traynor."

"Neither can I, Limber," was the quick retort. "The debt I owe you can never be paid; but I can pay part of the interest due on it. Let me buy the half-interest for you from Powell."

Limber shook his head slowly. "I don't want you to think I'm mulish, or that I don't appreciate what you and Doctor Powell is offerin' me, but I just can't do it."

"Then, let me make it a straight business deal, as if we were all strangers. Give me your note and pay when you feel able. Surely you can't make any objection to that?"

Limber took the proffered hand, "If you make the note out reg'lar, just as if it was some one else," he stipulated.

Traynor smiled broadly, "All right, Limber. That's a go. I'll write Powell about it. Now, I'll hurry down to the ranch and send one of the boys with the wagon."

Peanut looked up as Chinati galloped away with Traynor, but seeing Loco's horse, Apache, tethered to a bush, and that Limber was sitting quietly not far away, the gallant little pony fell contentedly to cropping the gra.s.s.

Limber rose, loosened the cinch and removed the saddle and blanket from Peanut's lathered back which he rubbed with a wisp of gra.s.s. He stroked the pony's nose absently and looked with pity at the dead Mexican.

"Dern that Walton! The cards was sure stacked against you, Loco. I'm sorry I had to do it."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

In spite of the general impression of frontier lawlessness that prevailed during the 'eighties', Arizona had probably as clean a moral standard as many of the Eastern States which considered themselves far in advance of the unsettled country. Though men 'packed' guns, and personal affronts were settled out of Court, Arizona could brag that any good woman was protected by every man in the Territory.

So, when the Southern Pacific train was held up west of Willc.o.x, the community was as much surprised and shocked as any more conventional town might be. Seventy thousand dollars were taken from the express car by the robbers, and no definite clue to their ident.i.ty or whereabouts could be discovered.

The railroad people, believing the first success would encourage others, secretly armed all express messengers with sawed-off shotguns, heavily loaded with buckshot, the most deadly weapon known for short-range work.

These precautions were justified six months later, when the regular west-bound train was nearing Cochise, a little place twelve miles west of Willc.o.x. The engineer, observing a danger signal, slowed down and finally stopped. As the track was treacherous at that point during rainy weather, he had no suspicions. Frequent washouts occurred in the sandy roadbed. The track-walker approached, swinging his lighted lantern.

"What's the trouble?" asked the engineer, as he and the fireman leaned over the side of the engine, staring through the darkness.

"Track's soft. You'll have to go slow for about a quarter of a mile,"

was the reply. "They wired to Willc.o.x from Cochise but you had left on time. Hold on a minute and I'll ride back with you."

"All right," answered the engineer, then as the man swung on the cab, "You're a new man?"

"Yes. Just went to work this week. I was on the Santa Fe before I came down here," he drew a pipe from his pocket, filled and lighted it as the engineer turned to start the engine.

The fireman had returned to the rear of the cab and set to work shovelling coal.

"Hands up!"

Two armed, masked men confronted the engineer and the fireman faced three others. There was no alternative except to obey. The train was made up of an engine, express car, three Pullmans and two day coaches; the express, as usual, being directly back of the engine and coal car.

Three of the bandits guarded the fireman and engineer, the other two running back a short distance. As the brakeman approached to ascertain the trouble, he was met and commanded to uncouple the express car and engine from the rest of the train. Then, having complied under protest, he was compelled to join the other two men who were under guard.

"Pull ahead till we tell you to stop," was the order, and the engine puffed on its way, leaving the pa.s.sengers and conductors to discover their predicament later.

Four miles from Cochise, in a spot where there was no human habitation, the engineer was forced to halt. Three robbers remained on guard while the other two went to the express car and knocked sharply on the door.

"What is it?" the messenger demanded.

"Open the door!"

There was no reply.

"Open the door, and we won't hurt you;" called the robber a second time.

Again there was absolute silence.

"We'll give you one minute to open that door, or we'll blow you and the car to h.e.l.l!"

The man inside the car knew there was nothing to be gained by delay.

"All right," he called. "I'll open it, boys."

There was slipping of bolts and creaking of wood. The door opened slowly about two inches. Three-fingered Jack standing close to it, jumped backward and thrust the barrel of his pistol through the aperture. A flash, a scream of agony, and the door closed with a bang. The messenger stood with blood streaming from his right arm, the sawed-off shot gun smoking at his feet; but as he slipped unconscious to the floor, he knew one of the robbers was badly hurt.

Outside, the men surrounded Three-fingered Jack, who had torn the red handkerchief from his face. Blood poured from a gaping wound in his side. His comrades eased him to the ground, then turned their attention to the express car. This time it would be short work--dynamite.

"Hurry!" urged the leader.

They moved to obey; but stopped with oaths. Down the track from Cochise shone the headlight of an engine. They knew there was no other pa.s.senger train due either way at that hour; but they could not count on freights or specials. The railroad officials had given instructions that each train-despatcher keep close watch on the time between stations, and if any train were late to wire at once to the last station; then, unless satisfied, rush out an extra engine, or pusher, with armed men.

These men, seeing the headlight of the stalled engine, were ready for action as the 'pusher' raced forward at full speed. The robbers, realizing that flight was imperative, ran to the horses they had left tied in the brush, only pausing long enough to seize their wounded comrade. They boosted him roughly to a pony, leading it by the reins while Jack clung moaning to the horn of the saddle. Each movement was excruciating agony, as they rode madly through the mesquite brush in the darkness.

The rescue party found the unconscious messenger, and the kidnapped engine and express car were backed to the rest of the train, while the pusher raced to Cochise for a posse and horses to trail the robbers.

It did not take very long to load armed men and saddled ponies into an empty box-car at Cochise, and in record-breaking time the little special again reached the hold-up. While they were unloading their ponies, the belated pa.s.senger train, carrying its excited pa.s.sengers, its untouched express car and the wounded man, rattled past the posse. The engineer leaned from his cab, waved a grimy hand and sounded a long-drawn whistle. Out in the darkness, the fleeing outlaws heard and knew what it meant. Their progress had been impeded by the condition of Jack, and each movement of his pony brought groans and curses.

The leader halted.

"It's him, or all of us," he said, and the rest agreed.

"We're sorry. Jack, but it can't be helped. We've got to leave you behind."

The wounded man cursed them for cowards and traitors; but fell limp as they helped him to the ground and made him as comfortable as possible.

Then they rode away, carrying his pistol with them, for they would need it worse than Jack. His curses followed them.