Curly Part 21

He drank, and we watched the man sneak off. "I turned him out of my gang," said the robber, "for being dishonest."

Mutiny strolled in and shook hands. "Old friend," says he, "what can we do to help?"

"Watch Joe, and shoot him up quick if he tries to pa.s.s that gate."

So Mutiny pulled his gun. "How's all the boys?" he asked.

"You're honing to come back to being a robber?"

"Cayn't," Mutiny groaned, "I've sure repented and turned smuggler now.

Besides, I'm due to get married, so I'm dead tame and gentle, boss.

What brought you south?"

"You may inquire, seh."

"Ain't you trusting me?"

"Well, Mutiny, since you want to know, I came down to hold up a train."

"Big plunder?"

"I expaict. It was a carload of birds' teeth, cat feathers, and frawgs'

tails; but there's too many inquiry agents around, so I missed the train."

Mutiny had to laugh, but then he sighed. "If anything goes wrong with my girl," says he, "I'll come scratch on yo' door."

"Wall"--the outlaw looked mighty serious--"if she happens to get drowned in the desert--perhaps we'll see you come. Now let's to business. Them kids at La Morita has to be collected, I reckon."

"Why come to we-all?" says Mutiny,--"ain't the gang handy at rescues?"

"My wolves would jump at the chance; I choked them off."

"For how?"

"Bekase"--the Captain turned his haunted eyes on me--"I don't want them po' youngsters mixed in with thieves."

"You wanted me mixed again," says Mutiny through his teeth.

"Sonny"--the outlaw laid his hand on Mutiny's shoulder--"you been a bad aig same as me, and we'd be hard to spoil. But these aigs at La Morita is new-laid, fresh aigs, so I wan' them to keep."

"You're right, boss."

"Mutiny, I sent you away for yo' good, 'ecause that girl may pull you up if anything can on airth. As for me, wall, I don't know as I care what becomes of me. I tried to turn good one't--tried mortal hard to run straight. I envy every honest man I see. I'm like a crawling snake, ambitious for bird wings to fly with; but still I'm no more than snake."

"The kids have a chance all right," says Mutiny.

"They have. A year ago I couldn't have drove my Curly away from the gang, but now he's paired with that du Chesnay youngster. Them colts won't care for the herd if they can run together, so I've got Curly weaned from following me to--to d.a.m.nation."

"Mutiny," says I, "will you help me to gather in these boys?"

"I sh.o.r.ely will," says Mutiny; "but hadn't we ought to wait until they're moved up this way for trial?"

"Wall," says the outlaw, "if I kin get to fight with a small man, I don't yearn for anything larger. Whirl in on La Morita, and you're fighting Mexico; wait for a move, and you're up against the hull United States. I'd rather have a lick at lil' ole Mexico."

I told him that I had a town full of cowboys hard to hold.

"That kind won't keep," says Mutiny; "what's yo' plan?"

"I aimed," says I, "to steal young Ryan, and throw him into La Morita by way of consolation for them poor Frontier Guards when they miss their plunder."

"Now don't you touch my meat," says Captain McCalmont; "I have to feed my little small lambs on him. Now, Misteh Davies."

"Answers to the name of Chalkeye mostly."

"Wall, Chalkeye, this is the second time we meet," he bored into me with his eyes; "I understand that Balshannon's will makes you some sort of guardian of his colt."

"I reckon he needs a friend."

"Will you be a friend to my son?"

"Not more than I been already."

"Mutiny," says he, "you witness that I, Captain McCalmont, thief, and general manager of the Robbers' Roost gang of outlaws, appoints this Chalkeye Davies guardian of Curly."

"I witnesses."

"Moreover, I aim to corrupt this Chalkeye by handing him stolen money."

He pa.s.sed me a heavy roll of notes worth fifty thousand dollars, which is ten thousand pounds by English reckoning. "My friend," he said, "take these two kids away out of this country--break them dead gentle, keep them clean, make them forget." He gave me a letter. "Read this when you're alone."

"You trust me?" I asked.

"You trust yo'self?"

"Mutiny," says I, "you'll help?"

"Poor Mutiny," said the robber, "might help himself."

"On the dead thieving," says Mutiny, "that's so!" Then he grinned at me.

"Look a-here, Chalkeye, this means that yo' pull out and hit the long trail. Now I want a home for my girl. How much will yo' take for yo'

ranche?"

"I'll see you later, Mutiny, and talk; and now shake hands, McCalmont.

To-night I'll be on hand like a sore thumb, at La Morita."

CHAPTER XVII