Benton of the Royal Mounted Part 14

The policeman considered the other's face a moment or two longer, then suddenly made up his mind.

"I'll take a chance on it," he muttered; then, raising his voice. "See here; look, Bryan," he said. "Sizin' things up as they've panned out up to date, I believe yu've been tellin' me th' straight tale, all right.

Now, I've got another feller in here-locked up. There's only one cell.

But I'm not a-goin' to shut yu' in with a dirty criminal like him, if yu'll give me yore word as th' honest man yu' call yoreself, yu' won't try to skip out on me. I'll be away tonight-or th' best part o' th'

night-on duty. So yu' an' this feller'll be alone in here. Yu're not to talk to him, mind. Yu' can give him a cup o' water thru' th' bars if he wants it, but no matches or anythin' to smoke. I'm takin' no chances on a fire while I'm away. Yu' can just lay around an' sleep on my cot, an'

let that feller think as yu're a-watchin' him. 'Member," he added warningly, "if yu' _did_ try to skip, I could easy catch yu' ag'in ...

an' it'd be a sure sign yu' was a guilty accomplice o' these fellers. I need yu' as an all-important witness, an' this is th' only chance yu've got of gettin' clear. D'yu' get me now?"

The old man, seeming grateful at the trust thus reposed in him, eagerly gave the required promise.

"Son," he said solemnly. "I give yu' my word. Yu're treatin' me like a white man."

CHAPTER X

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, Through bars of bra.s.s and triple steel!- They tug, they strain! down, down they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below.

-_Scott_

Seven o'clock came, and the Sergeant, with a few parting instructions to old Hiram Bryan, saddled up and departed for Gallagher's.

The latter who, pipe in mouth, was seated on the steps of his shack busily splicing a hondu in a rawhide lariat, or riata, looked up at the other's approach, and glanced curiously at the Sergeant's unfamiliar dress and mount.

"h.e.l.lo," he said waggishly. "Fancy-dress ball, eh? What's th' idea?"

For Benton was riding the prisoner's white horse and also wearing that gentleman's chaps, coat, hat, and white handkerchief.

Ellis grinned. "They're expaictin' Shorty," he said. "Mustn't disappoint 'em."

Half an hour later the two men rode slowly along the trail leading to Fish Creek. The evening shadows began to close in, but they dawdled, keeping a wary look-out and talking in low, guarded tones, for voices carry far over the range on still nights.

"Sergeant," said Gallagher casually, during their progress. "'Member, it ain't that I'm grudgin' givin' yu' this bit o' help but, d'yu' know, I've often thort it kinder queer-like as yu' don't get 'em to give yu'

another man to help yu' out here?"

Ellis did not reply immediately. "I could," he said presently. "But what'd be th' use? They'd most likely send me along some gentlemanly young 'Percy,' just fresh up from Regina, who didn't know his mouth from a hole in th' ground. It ain't no child's play-handlin' th' crooked stock cases in a district like this. A man's got to be onto his job right from th' drop o' th' hat. Look how they put it over Williamson-what! He should never have come here. He should have stayed with that staff job in th' Q.M.'s store ... never did nothin' else since he's bin in th' Force. They saddled me with a peach once, I mind-when I was stationed at G.o.ddard. He was a nice, well-meanin' kid, all right, but all th' same he queered two o' th' best cases I've ever had," he ended bitterly.

They rode side by side in silence awhile.

"Yu' heeled?" inquired the Sergeant quietly. And, as the other nodded, and tapped his hip significantly: "Mind, though, I ain't anxious to have any shootin' on this business, unless it's absolutely necessary. I don't want no cursed chasin' in th' dark, either, with th' chances o' th'

hawsses comin' down wallop, in every doggoned badger-hole around. I ain't just figured _how_ I'm a-goin' to get 'em yet! Can't tell, this stage o' th' game. It'll most likely have to be somethin' almighty sudden, yu' can take yore oath o' that!"

Arriving later at the previously mentioned line of brush that fringed the west side of Tucker's pasture, they struck in along the old cow trail and dismounting about thirty yards from the gate, still within the shelter of the dense bush, they squatted down and awaited events.

A three-quarter moon showed itself rarely through a thick rift of clouds and, as their eyes became accustomed to the curious gray light that flooded everything around, objects within a certain radius stood out with surprising clearness.

"Lord!" said the policeman in a low undertone, "I wish we could smoke.

'Twon't do to chance strikin' a match, though. Reckon they'll foller th'

fence-line from th' sou'west angle when they _do_ come. Good job Tucker ain't got no dogs to start in yappin'. Guess _he's_ drunk an' sleepin'

by now. Good job, too, he don't know no more'n he does. He'd be a-runnin' around all worked up like a flea in a mitt, with that old Mauser o' his, an' shootin' at th' moon."

"We'll have ter look out for them hawsses o' our'n a-whinnyin', too,"

said Gallagher anxiously. "That's what I'm scared of."

A slow, dreary hour pa.s.sed. Ellis arose stiffly, and stretched himself.

"I'm gettin' tired o' settin' here," he whispered to the other. "I'm a-goin' out to th' edge o' th' brush. If either o' them hawsses starts in, yu' cut th' wind off'n him quick." And he stole away noiselessly.

He was barely away ten minutes before he came gliding back.

"Here comes somebody," he whispered. "Along from th' sou'west angle, as I figured, too. Guess it's them, all right. If 'tis, I reckon I'll have to jump somethin' hot off'n th' brain 'bout gettin' 'em."

With all their faculties on the stretch, they held their breaths and listened intently. Soon their eager ears caught the sound of approaching horses and the faint creak of leather. Straining their eyes in the gloom, they presently made out the forms of two riders slowly and cautiously traversing the cleared strip that lay between the fence and the line of brush.

Reaching the gate they halted, but making no attempt, as yet, to dismount or open it, remained lolling on their horses and talking in low tones.

"Waitin' for Shorty," whispered Ellis to Gallagher who, smothering a chuckle, whispered back: "Some wait!"

Even in that dim light they could see that one of the riders loomed up a big, bulky shape, in contrast to his slighter-appearing companion.

"That's Big George, all right," murmured the rancher into Benton's ear as a low, deep ba.s.s undertone rumbled to them. "Listen ter that voice o'

his!"

Ready for emergencies, they quietly watched the two dark forms and patiently waited. Their vigil was short. An unmistakable, smothered oath came to their ears. The guarded, booming growl of the bigger man, became more insistent. They saw the slighter shape dismount and, presently the "tang" of a tightly stretched barbed-wire gate being released and drawn aside sounded sharply in the stillness. The big shape, still mounted, slowly disappeared into the shadows beyond, the smaller one resuming his seat in the saddle and waiting at the opening.

Feverishly the Sergeant weighed the situation. "Scotty" Robbins-and, without a doubt, it must be he-possessed an extraordinarily fast horse, he reflected. Even if he _was_ able, under the guise of Shorty, to range near enough to close, it was not particularly easy to pull a good rider like Scotty out of the saddle. He would be sure to raise a loud outcry at the first attempt, and thus warn Fisk. If he once got away, it would be futile to follow him in the dark.

The emergency caused a wild thought to flash into Benton's fertile brain. Why not _rope_ him? Long years of constant practise had rendered him clever with a lariat. It was worth trying. The tumble would insure Scotty's partial silence anyway, and Gallagher could fix the rest, leaving him free to tackle Big George, whom he knew it would be suicidal to ever call on to surrender at close range.

Clutching his companion, he whispered tensely: "Now they're split! I'll have to nail Mister Scotty quick, before he gets a chance to make a breakaway. That roan o' his-'Duster'-can run anythin' around here off'n its laigs. I'm a-goin' to try _ropin'_ him. Let's have that rawhide riata o' yores-that 'black-jack' o' mine kinks. Get yore handkerchief ready, an' run out an' cram it into his kisser an' choke th' -- if he starts in to holler. Here, Barney!"-he slipped the latter a pair of handcuffs-"hold these. Keep 'em open an' give 'em to me when I say. Now look out! Gaffle him quick when I jerk him off'n th' perch."

Leading Shorty's horse slowly and heedfully back through the brush, the way they had come, he mounted and, after carefully shaking out a loop to his liking in the riata, which he trailed in readiness with back-flung hand, he circled around until he reached the clear s.p.a.ce between the fence and the brush.

Suddenly his borrowed mount nickered. Scotty Robbins started nervously at the sound, but a sigh of relief escaped him as the shape of the familiar white horse became revealed to his vision.

"Oh, Shorty-that yu'?" he called out, in a loud, tense undertone.

There was no answer from the rider, who approached near-_nearer_.

Suddenly. "Swis-s-s-s," came the sibilant hiss of something through the air, and the loop of a riata flopped fairly over his head and shoulders.

Taken utterly by surprise, he uttered a frightened squawk and, with a quick upward thrust of his arm, endeavored to free himself of the enc.u.mbrance. The movement was too late. That single squawk was his limit. For the other, wheeling his horse on the instant, rammed in the spurs, and the next moment there came a terrible jerk that tore his clutching hands from the saddle-horn and flung him to the ground with all the breath knocked out of his body.

The startled, riderless horse gave a violent jump at the unexpected occurrence and tried to run, but the trailing lines under its feet causing its head to be yanked down severely at every step, from customary experience it soon pulled up, snorting nervously.

With as much compunction as a cow-puncher who drags a calf up to the branding fire, so Ellis swiftly trailed the unfortunate Scotty towards the opening in the brush. The watchful Gallagher darted noiselessly forward and, turning him on his back, slacked off the lariat.