Trailin'! Part 30

And Nash paled visibly, even through whiskers and mud. The other almost smiled.

"So soon, Nash?"

"With hosses and women, he don't lose no time."

"What's he done?"

"The first trace I caught of him was at a shack of an old ranchhouse where he'd traded his lame hoss in. They gave him the wildest mustang they had--a hoss that was saddle-shy and that hadn't never been ridden.

He busted that hoss in--a little piebald mustang, tougher 'n iron--and that was why I didn't catch him till we hit Eldara."

The smile was growing more palpable on the face of Drew, and he nodded for the story to continue.

"Then I come to a house which was all busted up because Bard had come along and flirted with the girl, and she's got too proud for the feller she was engaged to--begun thinkin' of millionaires right away, I s'pose.

"Next I tracked him to Flanders's saloon, where he'd showed up Sandy Ferguson the day before and licked him bad. I seen Ferguson. It was sure some lickin'."

"Ferguson? The gun-fighter? The two-gun man?"

"Him."

"Ah-h-h!" drawled the big man.

The colour was back in his face. He seemed to be enjoying the recountal hugely.

"Then I hit Eldara and found all the lights out."

"Because of Bard?"

"H-m! He'd had a run-in with Butch Conklin, and Butch threatened to come back with all his gang and wipe Eldara off the map. He stuck around and while he was waitin' for Butch and his gang, he started flirtin' with Sally--Fortune."

The name seemed to stick in his throat and he had to bring it out with a grimace. "So now you want his blood, Nash?"

"I'll have it," said the cowpuncher quietly, "I've got gambler's luck.

In the end I'm sure to win."

"You're not going to win here, Nash."

"No?" queried the younger man, with a dangerous intonation.

"No. I know the blood behind that chap. You won't win here. Blood will out."

He smote his great fist on the desk-top and his laugh was a thunder which reverberated through the room.

"Blood will out? The blood of John Bard?" asked Nash.

Drew started.

"Who said John Bard?"

He grew grey again, the flush dying swiftly. He started to his feet and repeated in a great voice, sweeping the room with a wild glance: "Who said John Bard?"

"I thought maybe this was his son," answered Nash.

"You're a fool! Does he look like John Bard? No, there's only one person in the world he looks like."

He strode again up and down the room, repeating in a deep monotone: "John Bard!"

Coming to a sharp halt he said: "I don't want the rest of your story.

The point is that the boy will be here within--an hour--two hours. We've got work to do before that time."

"Listen to me," answered the foreman, "don't let him get inside this house. I'd rather take part of h.e.l.l into a house of mine. Besides, if he sees me--"

"He's coming here, but he's not going to see either of us--my mind is made up--neither of us until I have him helpless."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE COMEDY SETTING

"Dead, you mean," broke in Nash, "because otherwise he'll never be helpless."

"I tell you, Nash," said the other solemnly, "I can make him helpless with one minute of talk. My problem is to keep that wild devil harmless while he listens to me talk. Another thing--if he ever sees me, nothing _but_ death will stop him from coming at my throat."

"Speakin' personal," said the other coldly, "I never take no chances on fellers that might come at my throat."

"I know; you're for the quick draw and the quick finish. But I'd rather die myself than have a hair of his head hurt. I mean that!"

Nash, his thoughts spinning, stood staring blankly.

"I give up tryin' to figure it out; but if he's comin' here and you want to keep him safe I'd better take a fresh hoss and get twenty miles away before night."

"You'll do nothing of the kind; you'll stay here with me."

"And face him without a gun?" asked the other incredulously.

"Leave gun talk out of this. I think one of the boys looks a little like me. Lawlor--isn't that his name?"

"Him? Yes; a little bit like you--but he's got his thickness through the stomach and not through the chest."

"Never mind. He's big, and he's grey. Send for him, and get the rest of the boys in here. They're around now for noon. Get _every_ one.

Understand? And make it fast."

In ten minutes they came to the office in a troop--rough men, smooth men, little and big, fat and thin, but good cattlemen, every one.

"Boys," said Drew, "a tenderfoot is coming to the ranch to-day. I'm going to play a few jokes on him. First of all, I want you to know that until the stranger leaves the house, Lawlor is going to take my place.

He is going to be Drew. Understand?"