Benton of the Royal Mounted Part 15

Benton leaped down. "Quick!" he whispered fiercely. "Let's have 'em!"

s.n.a.t.c.hing the handcuffs from the other, he snipped them on Scotty's wrists. The latter was still moaning and gasping with the shock of his fall.

"Yu' ain't croaked him, hev yu', Sargint?" said the rancher, in a low voice.

"Nah," snarled the policeman, in a tense whisper. "That flop's jerked th' wind outa him, that's all. He'll come to in a second an' most likely start in to bawl, so yu'll wanta be ready with that handkerchief. Say!

that's sure some rope-horse o' Shorty's-c'n turn on a dollar. See here; look! I'm a-goin' to wait at th' gate for George. No use for to try an'

rope _him_-he's too heavy. I'll have to fix him some other road. He'll be some handful, too, believe me! If I shout for yu', leave Scotty an'

come on th' dead run. Mind, though, I don't want no shootin' unless it's absolutely necessary."

He turned swiftly, and was about to mount again, when a sudden thought flashed into his mind. Scotty was not wearing white chaps. They would be a "dead give away," he reflected. At close range they would show up plainly to Fisk in that light.

The next instant he had unbuckled the waist-strap and kicked them off; then, leaving Shorty's white horse, he ran to where his late victim's mount still stood waiting. At his sudden, hasty approach, it edged away slightly, and snorted, scenting an unfamiliar being; but, impatient, he grabbed at and caught one of its trailing lines, and the next minute was in the saddle. The stirrups were about an equal length to his own, so he felt comfortable enough on the beautiful, springy beast. Taking up its owner's previous position at the open gate, he waited quietly.

Soon there came a slowly gathering, m.u.f.fled thud of many hoofs, and the shadowy blurr of a bunch of horses became visible to him as they drew near. On they came, and the leader, after suddenly stopping and snorting with puffed-out nostrils at the apparition of the rider, who remained so motionless at the side of the gate, darted through, the others speedily following, well strung out by the skilful tactics of their driver to avoid jamming at the opening.

As the last horse pa.s.sed through the gate, Ellis planted himself squarely in the midway, facing the rider, who was bringing up the rear.

The huge form gradually loomed up nearer to him in the surrounding gloom.

"H-l! what yu' waitin' fur, d-n yu'?" rumbled the deep, harsh, low-pitched voice. "Why didn't yu' head 'em off, west?"

Benton moved forward slowly with raised hand.

"Sh-s.h.!.+" he hissed warningly.

Fisk halted irresolutely. Scotty's horse fooled him completely.

"What's up?" he growled.

Ellis, his powerful right arm swinging free, ranged up alongside as if to have speech with the other. Then suddenly, and with an uncanny swiftness, he silently and viciously struck for the angle of the big man's jaw.

The blow crashed home, and the great body went lurching sideways out of the saddle. Like a flash the Sergeant swung down off his horse and jumped for the rustler, dragging out another pair of handcuffs as he did so.

His haste was his undoing, for he got wedged in between the frightened, jostling horses and knocked sprawling. The next instant a huge, bear-like shape that made horrible, beast-like noises in its throat, fell upon him and clutched his arms. Frenziedly he writhed under that terrible grip.

"Barney!" he yelled. "Oh, Bar-!"

But his cry changed to a gurgle as the other's hold s.h.i.+fted to his throat. With desperate efforts he fought off the choking clasp and, wriggling somehow from under his enemy's smothering weight, scrambled with reeling brain to his feet.

Big George had arisen also, snorting and grinding his teeth with mad, demoniacal pa.s.sion, and Ellis instinctively guessed that he was fumbling for his gun. Entirely forgetful of his own weapon in the Berserker rage that possessed him, the Sergeant sprang at the giant rustler, hitting out with great smas.h.i.+ng punches to the jaw and stomach, that sent Fisk staggering back and gave him no opportunity to draw. With a snarl like a wild beast, he closed again with his slighter antagonist and, as the two men swayed hither and thither, Benton became dimly conscious of Gallagher's form and voice added to the melee.

Stumbling and tripping, the struggling, cursing trio came headlong to the ground. Suddenly, with a gurgling yell of pain, Fisk released his grip on Ellis, who was the under dog and, clutching at his own throat, fell backwards; his head, meanwhile, giving curious, spasmodic jerks.

Uncomprehending, but quick to follow up his advantage, the Sergeant rolled over upon him; and as he did so, his hands, seeking the other's neck, encountered a rope, and he instantly realized what had happened.

"Steady, Barney!" he panted. "Ease up a bit. Yu'll choke him."

Roughly, and with the swift celerity of men accustomed to throwing and hog-tying steers, they trussed up their late formidable antagonist, winding the forty-foot riata around him as he kicked and raved, with a maze of knots that left him as helpless as a child. Then, utterly spent with their exertions, they lay back, gasping for air and sweating.

Gradually recovering, they regained their speech somewhat.

"G-d!" said Ellis, still breathing heavily, "that's about the worst man-handling I guess I ever _did_ get! Here! This won't do, lyin' on our backs all night. Where in h-l's them bracelets? I dropped 'em somewheres around here." And, arising unsteadily, he began to kick amongst the short gra.s.s.

With the aid of some matches the missing articles were eventually found.

The two men then turned to the huge, bound figure of the rustler, who was still cursing and twisting under his bonds. Cautiously, loosening one great arm at a time, they clasped the steel loops around the enormous wrists.

"Should have a gun," muttered the Sergeant. "He was a-tryin' to draw, all right. Can't get at it, though, while he's on his back. Here, let's roll him over on his face, Barney, so's I can get at his hip-pocket."

In about as gentle a fas.h.i.+on as a lumber-jack twisting a log with a cant-hook, so the big body was heaved over into the desired position, and Ellis commenced his investigations. A smothered exclamation escaped him.

"Hullo!" he said, "what's this? So _that's_ why I didn't get mine, eh?"

He struck a match, disclosing by its light the b.u.t.t of a long-barreled Colt's .45 protruding from the rustler's right hip-pocket. Being unscabbarded the wing of the hammer had (providentially, for Benton) caught in the torn lining of the pocket and become firmly fixed therein.

"Eyah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Gallagher. "D'yu' ever see th' likes o' that, now?

Talk about luck-what!"

Ellis carelessly spilled the sh.e.l.ls into his hand. "How's Scotty?" he inquired.

"Oh, him?-he's all right," answered the rancher. "He come around while yu' was a-waitin' at th' gate fur Big George, here. He started in to snivel, but I d-d soon shoved th' handkerchief in his trap."

"Mighty good job yu' fixed George as yu' did," said the Sergeant. "I didn't wanta shoot, but I guess I'd a-had to if yu' hadn't come along just then. I ain't heavy enough to rough-an'-tumble it with a bull like him. He well-nigh got me that first trip. Thank yu', Barney. Yu're right there with th' goods, an' no mistake.... I'll never forget it."

"Aw, h-l," said the other roughly, to hide his feeling. "'Twarn't nothin', Sargint. I on'y picked up th' first thing as come handy-that riata yu'd chucked off'n Scotty. That's all right."

A string of oaths from the rec.u.mbent Fisk aroused them.

"Hey!" rumbled the growling, ba.s.s voice threateningly. "Who is yu'

fellers, anyways? What'n h-l d'yu' think yu're at? Yu'l....

"One o' yu's Barney Gallagher-I know that. I'll fix yu' fur this, Barney!"

Ellis unwound the lariat from around the big man's legs; then, striking another match, held it to his own face.

"Know _me_, now?" he said. "George-I reckon I've got yu'! Get up, yu'

big stiff, or I'll fix _yu'_!"

A fresh burst of blasphemy greeting his request, he picked up the riata again and, dropping a loop over the rustler's head and shoulders, drew it taut.

"Yu' go get me one o' them hawsses, Barney," he said quietly.

Gallagher sauntered over to where the two animals had halted after their first scare and were placidly feeding, and returned with Scotty's horse.

The Sergeant mounted and took a turn of the riata around the saddle-horn.

Amidst an ominous silence he swung around in his seat with shortened leg. "Comin'?" he inquired significantly.

Big George was no coward, but he was between the devil and the deep sea; for in the cold cruelty of the policeman's tones he read aright the signs of a pitiless purpose if he still persisted in further obstinacy.

Sullenly he rolled over onto his knees, and awkwardly raised himself on his feet.