Benton of the Royal Mounted Part 10

The flies began to buzz around the carca.s.s and the steady "munch, munch"

of the feeding horses sounded in their ears, whilst the sun, blazing hotly down upon them without the mercy of a cooling breeze, sent up little s.h.i.+mmering heat-waves from the sagebrush-dotted parched ground.

Shorty presently found his voice again.

"Sargint," he began, with a certain surly respect that it was noticeable had hitherto been omitted, "d'yu' mind me askin' yu' a question?"

Ellis glanced at him indifferently, his deep-set gray eyes wide with their peculiar, aggressive blank stare.

"Go ahead-what is it?" he said.

Shorty licked his dry lips. "Was it Jules le Frambois as told yu'

'bout-?"

"No," interrupted Ellis irritably. "Jules told me nothin', an' I asked him nothin'; an' what's more, I'd see yu' an' him ten fathoms deep in h-l before I'd suck up any of yu' Ghost River crooks' cursed lies."

"Were it George Fisk, then-or Scotty Robbins?" the other pursued.

A puzzling, suspicious thought suddenly flashed into the policeman's alert brain at the man's persistence, and instantly his face became an inscrutable mask.

"Now yu're talkin'," he answered meaningly.

His words produced a horrible change in the weather-beaten, sinister countenance of his prisoner.

"By --, I was a-thinkin' so.... Right from th' fust crack," he said spitefully, with an oath. "An' now I'll tell _yu'_ somethin' that ain't no lie. Them two same fellers has it fixed to annex old Bob Tucker's bunch o' hawsses-tomorrer night. I was a-goin' to give 'em a hand, too,"

he continued defiantly, with reckless abandon. "They figures on takin'

'em up to a place they knows of in th' bush-up Ghost River way-for a spell, till things quietens down a bit, I guess; then they'll drive 'em South, to Paralee Junction, an' try an' s.h.i.+p 'em East from there. George Fisk an' me had a sorter diff'runce 'bout whackin' up. He says to me: 'Take it, or leave it!'-them were his words-'Me an' Scotty ain't exactly pertic'lar whether yu' stays in th' family or not,' he says."

He paused for breath. Ellis shot a warning glance that spoke volumes to Gallagher who, with open-mouthed curiosity, was listening eagerly to this amazing recital.

"Well, yu' see they've double-crossed yu', _amigo_," he said, with a calm, convincing composure that left no further doubt in his prisoner's mind.

"Just a frame-up," he continued. "Why, them fellers has good steady jobs punchin' for th' Wharnock Cattle Company, which they ain't got no intention o' leavin' for to run off anybody's hawsses. They ain't exactly stuck on yu' so, naturally, they figured this was th' easiest way to get rid of yu'."

Shorty spat vindictively, and his pale, lynx-like, merciless eyes glowed as, with horrible blasphemies and threats, he broke out, reviling the two alleged informers.

"Frame-up!" he snarled. "Yes! ... on me _an'_ yu'. Why, this very beef here was for 'em, while they was up cached in the bush. Feller was a-goin' to foller 'em up with it in a wagon. _I_ won't be th' only one to get double-crossed, as yu'll find. Yu'll be gettin' one o' th' worst falls _yu'_ ever got in yore natural if yu' turn this whisper o' mine down now. Well, I've told yu', anyways." And, spent with his rage, he lay back like a man weary of life.

The practical Gallagher glanced up at the slowly descending sun and leapt to his feet.

"Time's gettin' on," he said. "I don't figure on losin' that beef, anyways.... It's a-stiffenin' up a'ready."

And, picking up Shorty's knife, with practised dexterity, he proceeded to complete what the rustler had begun. Ellis, outwardly nonchalant, but seething inwardly with excitement at the news, the truth of which was confirmed unhesitatingly by a certain native intuition he possessed, lent him a hand at intervals and, presently, with the aid of the block-and-tackle and a lariat on one of the saddle-horses, the two sides of roughly dressed beef were slung up to a branch of the big cottonwood tree, well out of reach of the coyotes.

Catching up the rustler's patient horse, the Sergeant picked up the rifle and, after pumping out the sh.e.l.ls, thrust it into its scabbard slung under the legadeiro of the saddle; then, knotting the lines around the horn, he proceeded to swiftly fas.h.i.+on a hackamore with his lariat.

"Reckon yu'll have to ride as yu' are, Shorty," he said. "I'm a-goin' to trail yu' alongside. What's up?" he added, as the other, with manacled hands on the saddle-horn, in the act of mounting, was staring at the buckskin with interest.

"Some hawss, that, yu're ridin', Sargint," he remarked, with a meaning, bitter smile.

"Some," a.s.sented Ellis dryly. "Well, yu' oughta know-bein' as 'twas yu'

topped him off. _Umbagi!_-let's _trek_. Don't forget that hide, Barney!"

he shouted. "Hang onto that brand, too-mind Shorty don't swop it on yu'," he added with grim pleasantry.

The rancher, busily rolling up the b.l.o.o.d.y ma.s.s, with the rustler's knife and cleaver inside, responded with one of his customary barking laughs and, las.h.i.+ng it on behind his saddle, mounted; and with him bringing up the rear, the little cavalcade turned homewards.

In due time they arrived at the detachment, and the Sergeant, after carefully searching and locking up his prisoner, withdrew outside the building to discuss matters with Gallagher.

"Guess there ain't no Bull-Durham about th' tip old Bob Tucker's got this trip," he said with conviction. "Wonder who 'twas put that old stiff wise?"

He was more excited than was his wont, and his brow was contracted with impatient thought.

"Reckon he's tellin' th' straight tale?" Gallagher ventured dubiously, with a back-flung jerk of his head to the building.

"Sh.o.r.e," answered the policeman. "'Twas just a bit o' lucky gammon I threw into him-I'd no idea he'd fall for it like he did. Yu're a witness of his admissions of being an accomplice o' these fellers. As a matter o' fact," he continued, with a sly grin, "I haven't seen either o'

_them_ for well-nigh a month now. 'Twas Little Benny Parker wised me up 'bout what Shorty figured he was goin' to do for me.... He was down at th' post-office one mail day-quite a while ago, this is-an' these fellers was all outside together a-talkin'-Jules le Frambois along.

Benny's only a little nipper, an' bein' on th' other side o' his horse, cinchin' up, I guess they didn't notice him. Some cute kid, Benny!"

He remained silent for a s.p.a.ce, in deep thought.

"Barney," he said presently, "I'd like yore help in this business.

Scotty Robbins ain't o' much account. He's a poor cur, he is. But Big George's some bad man. I've got his record from over th' Line. He's done two fives an' a three-year term for horse-stealin', an' I know for a fact, too, that he's a gun artist. He killed two men in a dirty mix-up at Los Barancedes, over in New Mexico, quite a while back. Th' Rurales well-nigh put th' kibosh on him, but somehow he beat 'em out. So, yu'

see," he concluded with a whimsical smile, "it ain't exactly a one-man job-at night, too. That is, if yu're willin'?"

His request was met more than half-way.

"Eyah! that I will, Sargint," the other answered bluntly and briefly. "I guess I know me duty as a law-abidin' man should." He had, in his brief acquaintance, formed a profound respect for the fearless man who sought his a.s.sistance.

"I know it's not exactly a civilian's end o' th' deal to get shoved into takin' unnecessary risks," Ellis went on. "If I had time I'd ride out to Buffalo Wallow an' get Nicholson-he's about due there, on patrol. But I haven't ... an' this lay's supposed to come off tomorrow night. Besides, I wanta go an' see Tucker. Pity old Boswell, th' J.P.'s, gone East. I'd a got yu' sworn in as a 'special.' So yu' see how it is," he ended simply.

"Eyah!" said Gallagher, with a grim heartiness; "don't yu' worry over nothin' son. My name's Barney Gallagher. I kin 'trail me coat' as good as me father or me grandfather ever did. Yu'll find I'm right there with th' goods."

Ellis regarded the speaker's hard-featured face with its twinkling Irish-blue eyes, and his angular, powerful frame.

"Yu' just bet yu' are, Barney," he murmured thoughtfully. "Yu' just bet yu' are. See here; look! I'll mosey on over to Tucker's first thing in th' mornin'; an' I'll find out, if I can-without tellin' him nothin'-what he knows. Shorty'll be safe enough locked up here while we're away, an' if we nail these other two we can take th' whole bunch into Sabbano for their preliminary trial. I'll be back mid-day, an'

towards evenin' we'll slide out."

Their arrangements thus settled, Gallagher departed to his ranch, and Ellis proceeded to cook supper for himself and his prisoner. Later he fixed up the horses for the night and, on second thought, after examining Johnny's hoof with a satisfied scrutiny, and leading him around a little, he wrenched off the remaining shoes and turned him loose in the pasture, where there was good feed and running water.

"Go to it, old boy," he chuckled, amused at that animal's antics as, delighted with his unwonted freedom, the horse, after a roll or two, sailed off with a joyous kick and squeal, his previous limp now hardly perceptible.

Ellis watched him lovingly a minute or two then, lighting his pipe, he reentered the detachment.

CHAPTER VIII

He was a dirty, aged man, who to his bottle clung, And ever and anon did curie in some queer foreign tongue, The tale he told was pa.s.sing strange, yet pitiful, withal- Of the lonely, care-fraught, troublous life He lived from Fall to Fall.