"Wal, Mr. Wiggate, my say is thet it'll be d.a.m.ned onhealthy fer anybody who doesn't believe my pard," added Blinky, in slow dark menace.

Gus stepped forward without any show of the excitement that characterized the others.

"If you need evidence other than our word, it's easy to find," he said.

"Mac New's gun was not the same caliber as Pan's. An' as the bullet thet killed Hardman is still in his body it can be found."

"Gentlemen, that isn't necessary," replied Wiggate, hastily, with a shudder. "Not for me. But my men can substantiate it. That might sound well in Marco. For I believe that your young leader--Panhandle Smith, they call him--is not so black as he has been painted."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The following morning, while Pan was away for a few hours deer hunting, Wiggate's men, accompanied by Blinky, attended to the gruesome detail of burying the dead men.

Upon Pan's return he learned of this and experienced relief that Wiggate had taken the responsibility. Wiggate had addressed him several times, civilly enough, but there was a restraint that Pan sensed often in his encounter with men. They were usually men who did not understand westerners like himself.

Wiggate had all his men, except the one he had sent back to Marco, with several of Pan's engaged in counting the captured wild horses. It was a difficult task and could hardly be accurate in short time.

"Anxious to get back to Marco?" queried Wiggate, not unkindly as he saw Pan's restlessness.

"Yes, I am, now the job's done," replied Pan heartily.

"Well, I wouldn't be in any hurry, if I were you," said the horse dealer, bluntly.

"What do you mean?" queried Pan.

"Young Hardman is to be reckoned with."

"Bah!" burst out Pan in a scorn that was rude, though he meant it for Hardman. "That pop-eyed skunk! What do I care for him?"

"Excuse me, I would not presume to advise you," returned Wiggate stiffly.

"Aw, I beg your pardon, Mr. Wiggate," apologized Pan. "I know you mean well. And I sure thank you."

Wiggate did not answer, but he took something from his vest pocket, It was a lead bullet, slightly flattened.

"Let me see your gun?" he asked.

Pan handed the weapon to him, b.u.t.t first. Wiggate took it gingerly, and tried to fit the bullet in a chamber of the cylinder, and then in the barrel. It was too large to go in.

"This is the bullet that killed Hardman," said Wiggate gravely. "It was never fired from your gun. I shall take pains to make this evident in Marco."

"I don't know that it matters but I'm sure much obliged," returned Pan with warmth.

"Well, I'll do it anyhow. I've been fooled by Hardman and, if you want to know it, cheated too. That's why I broke with him."

"Hope you didn't have any other a.s.sociation with him--besides horse buying."

"No, but I'm lucky I didn't."

"Hardman had his finger in a lot of things in Marco. I wonder who'll take them up. Say, for instance some of the gold claims he jumped."

"Well! I knew Hardman had mining interests, but I thought they were legitimate. It's such a queer mixed-up business, this locating, working, and selling claims. I want none of it."

"Hardman's men, either at his instigation or d.i.c.k's, deliberately ran two of my men out of their claims. They'll tell you so."

"I'm astonished. I certainly am astonished," replied Wiggate, and he looked it.

"Marco is the hardest town I ever rode into," declared Pan. "And I thought some of the prairie towns were bad. But I see now that a few wild cowboys, going on a spree, and shooting up a saloon, or shooting each other occasionally, was tame beside Marco."

"You're right. Marco is a hard place, and getting worse. There's considerable gold. The new Eldorado idea, you know. It draws lawless men and women from places that are beginning to wake up. And they prey upon honest men."

"Did the Yellow Mine belong to Hardman?" asked Pan curiously.

"Him and Matthews. Young Hardman claims it. He's already clashed with Matthews, so I heard."

"He'll do more than clash with Matthews, if he isn't careful. He'll _cash_!" declared Pan grimly. "Matthews is a four-flush sheriff. He wouldn't face a dangerous man. But he'd make short work of d.i.c.k Hardman."

"If I'm not inquisitive in asking--would you mind telling me, do you mean to _meet_ Matthews and young Hardman?" inquired Wiggate, hesitatingly.

"I'll avoid them if possible," rejoined Pan. "Dad and I will get out of Marco pretty p.r.o.nto. We're going to Arizona and homestead."

"That's sensible. You'll have money enough to start ranching. I wish you luck. I shall make this my last horse deal out here. It's profitable, but Marco is a little too--too raw for my blood."

According to figures that the counters agreed upon there were fourteen hundred and eighty-six wild horses in the trap.

Wiggate paid cash upon the spot. He had some bills of large denomination, but most of the money was in rather small bills. Pan made haste to get rid of all except his share. He doubled the wages of those who had been hired. Then he divided what was left with Blinky.

"My--Gawd!" gasped that worthy, gazing with distended eyes at the enormous roll of bills. "My Gawd! ... How much heah?"

"Count it, you wild-eyed cowpuncher," replied Pan happily. "It's your half."

"But, pard, it's too much," appealed Blinky. "Sh.o.r.e I'm robbin' you.

This was your drive."

"Yes, and it was your outfit," returned Pan. "You furnished the packs, horses, location, and I furnished the execution. Looks like a square deal, share and share alike."

"All right, pard," replied Blinky, swallowing hard. "If you reckon thet way.... But will you keep this heah roll fer me?"

"Keep it yourself, you Indian."

"But, pard, I'll get drunk an' go on a tear. An' you know how bad I am when I get lickered up."

"Blink, you're not going to drink, unless in that one deal I hinted about," said Pan meaningly. "Hope we can avoid it."

"Aw, we're turnin' over a new leaf, huh?" queried the cowboy in strangest voice.

"You are, Blink," replied Pan with a frank, serious smile. "I've been a respectable sober cowboy for some time. You've been terrible bad.'