The Coyote Part 13

He looked about the cage which was separated from the other cell by a wall of sheet iron. It contained nothing except a bench and a stool.

He pushed the bench against the stone wall at the rear and reclined upon it, using his coat for a pillow. Then he turned his face toward the wall, shading his eyes from the light, which filtered through two windows high in the wall beyond the bars on the left side by tipping his hat over his face.

Immediately he fell asleep.

The news that The Coyote had been captured, spread rapidly through the town and many came to the jail hoping they might be able to see the prisoner. All of these were denied admittance, but Sheriff Neal told the few who stated that they had been among the number the bandit had lined up at the point of his guns, that they would be called to identify The Coyote on the following day. He asked each if they were sure the bandit had two guns, and the reply in each case was in the affirmative.

"That's funny," Neal muttered. "He only had one gun on him."

"More'n likely the other's on his horse with his saddle," Brown pointed out. "I believe he left his horse somewheres an' made that fellow Lamy take him to the house thinking he could get something to eat there, and that they wouldn't be so likely to be seen in the open on foot. You got to remember that man's more or less clever."

This explanation satisfied Neal, and in the minds of the men who had been in the resort when it was held up, there was no question as to the ident.i.ty of the robber. Even if they had suspected otherwise it is doubtful if they would have acknowledged it because they considered it less of an ignominy to be held up by the notorious Coyote than by a bandit of lesser reputation.

Thus did the bonds of evidence tighten about Rathburn while he slept through the late afternoon and the twilight.

When he awoke a faint yellow light dimly illuminated his surroundings.

He lay thinking for several minutes. He knew night had fallen and surmised that he had slept a full eight hours. He could tell this because he was fully awake and alert. He turned noiselessly on his bench and saw that the light came from a lamp burning near the door to the outer office.

Rathburn could hear the hum of voices, and by listening intently, ascertained that two men were talking, one of whom was the sheriff. He could not recognize the voice of the other speaker as a voice he had ever heard before, and he could not hear what they were saying.

He listened dully to the voices until he heard a horse's hoofs in front of the jail. He turned back with his face to the wall, and his hat tipped over his eyes, as a man entered the jail office with a stamp of boots and jingle of spurs.

"h.e.l.lo, constable," he heard the sheriff say. "What luck?"

"Couldn't find the hoss," came a disgruntled voice. "Looked all afternoon an' till it got dark for him."

"Confound it!" exclaimed Neal. "The horse must have been somewhere aroun' close. He sure didn't walk down the valley."

"That's probably right," said the other. "I left a couple of your men out there to keep up searching when daylight comes. That feller Lamy showed us about where they left the hosses--his hoss an' The Coyote's--but they wasn't there. He said there was a bunch of wild hosses in the valley an' that they'd probably got away an' gone with 'em. We saw the wild hosses, but we couldn't get anywhere near 'em--couldn't get near enough to see if any of 'em was wearin' saddles or not. We had some chase while it lasted, I'll recite."

"Did Lamy say how they came to leave their horses?" asked the sheriff in an annoyed tone.

"It was The Coyote's orders. Thought they'd be safer in the middle of the posse or something like that. Made Lamy leave the hosses an' run for the house an' made him get down in the cellar with him. Don't know if he knew Lamy lived there or not, but reckon it wouldn't have made any difference."

The sheriff was pacing the floor of the office as his footfalls attested. "I've ordered that Lamy in to-morrow. I've a lot more questions to ask him. Well, you might as well get a few winks, constable; Brown and the rest of 'em have hit the hay. Even the prisoner is tired out, and that's sayin' something for as tough a bird as he is. But I wish I had his horse. I've got to have his horse!"

Rathburn was smiling at the wall. He heard Neal walk to the door and look in. Receding footsteps told him that the constable was leaving.

For a time there was silence in the outer office.

Rathburn sat up quietly and began easing off his right boot. The boot came slowly, very slowly, as Rathburn worked at it, careful not to make any noise. Then, just as it came free, the sheriff again strode to the door and looked in.

He saw Rathburn yawning, as the boot dropped on the floor.

Rathburn looked at the sheriff sleepily as the official strode into the aisle and peered in between the bars. He tipped the bootless foot back on its toes as he lifted his other foot and tugged at the boot.

"That you, sheriff?" he asked with another yawn. "The lights are so bad I can't see good. Guess I'm a little groggy anyway. I was too danged tired when I went to sleep to take off my boots."

"You've got another ten hours to sleep," said Neal with a scowl. "An'

you'll have plenty of time to get rid of your saddle soreness. You'll ride in automobiles and trains for a while an' keep in out of the hot sun an' the wet."

The sheriff laughed harshly at his own words.

Rathburn let the other boot drop. "I expect I'll get something to eat now an' then, too?"

"Feel hungry?" asked Neal.

"Might chaw on a biscuit before I take another nap," yawned the prisoner.

"I'll see if I can scare you up a bite," said the sheriff, leaving.

Rathburn heard him say something to some one in front. Then the sheriff went out of the building. The other man came in and looked at Rathburn curiously.

He was of medium build, with white hair and a face seamed and lined and red. Rathburn instantly recognized in his jailer a man of the desert--possibly of the border country.

"So you're The Coyote," said the jailer in a rather high-pitched voice.

Rathburn winked at him. "That's what they say," he replied.

"You size up to him, all right," observed the man of the desert. "An'

I can tell quick enough when I get a good look at you an' inspect your left forearm. I've had your descriptions in front of my eyes on paper an' from a dozen persons that knowed you for three years!"

"You been trailing me?" asked Rathburn curiously.

"I have; an' it ain't no credit to this bunch here that they got you, for I was headed in this direction myself an' arrived 'most as soon as you did."

"You from Arizona?" asked Rathburn, grasping his right foot in his left hand.

"I'm from Arizony an' Mexico an' a few other places," was the answer.

"I've helped catch men like you before, Coyote."

Rathburn frowned, still keeping his hand over his right foot. "I don't like that word, Coyote," he said softly, holding the other's gaze between the bars. "A coyote is a cowardly breed of animal, isn't it?"

"An' a tricky one," said the jailer. "I ain't sayin' you're a coward; but you're tricky, an' that's bad enough."

"Maybe so," agreed Rathburn. "Ah--here's our friend, his nibs, the sheriff. He went out to rustle me some grub. He wants to keep me fat for hanging!"

His laugh rang through the jail, empty save for himself and the two officers. But the temporary jailer hesitated, looking at Rathburn's eyes, before he turned to the sheriff.

"Open the door and I'll take it in to him," ordered the sheriff.

"Can't get this stuff through the bars. You might keep him covered."

The jailer's hand flew to his hip for his gun as he also brought up a large key on a ring. He unlocked the door to the cage and held it open while he kept his gun trained upon Rathburn.

The sheriff entered and placed the food on the stool and a large bowl of coffee on the floor beside it. Then he backed out, watching Rathburn keenly as the latter sat on his bench with his right foot in his hand.

When the door clanged shut and the key rattled in the lock, Rathburn let down his right foot, took two steps, and pulled the stool to the bench. He stepped back and secured the coffee. Then he began to eat and drink, keeping his right foot tipped on its toes, while the two officials watched him attentively.

"Sheriff," said Rathburn suddenly, between bites on a huge meat sandwich, "could you let me have a stub of a lead pencil an' a sheet of paper to write a letter on?"