Curly Part 30

"I'm United States Marshal Hawkins. What's your dog-goned business that needs drawn guns?"

"I'm Buck Hennesy, segundo to the Robbers' Roost gang of outlaws, and my guns are to shoot if I see you flirt that smoothbore."

"Your business?"

"State's evidence--take it or leave it!"

"And who's your dog-goned evidence against?"

"Against Captain McCalmont, Curly his--his son, and six others, robbers, and that polecat Jim du Chesnay, of Holy Crawss."

"Wall, throw down your dog-goned guns, throw up your dog-goned hands, and say 'Sir' when you dare to address an honest man. Now you get off'n that horse!"

"Dog-goned Hawkins," says the robber, "I ain't no prisoner, I ain't yo'

meat, I don't propose to hole up in yo' flea-trap calaboose, and I quit this hawss when I'm daid. Take my talk for State's evidence, or go without!"

"Chalkeye," says the Marshal aside, "is he covered?"

"Say the word, and I drop him."

"All right. Now, Hennesy, at the first break you die. You may talk."

"McCalmont's outfit," says Buck, "is breaking for Holy Crawss. To-morrow mawning they round up cattle, and then they drive right home to Robbers'

Roost."

"You're going to guide us, Mr. dog-goned Robber, or get plugged as full of holes as a dog-goned sieve."

"Guide you?" says Buck, and spat at him. "Guide you? I wouldn't be seen daid with yo' tin-horn crowd of measly, bedridden toorists. I cayn't insult you worse than saying that yo' mother was a sport, yo' father hung, and their offspring a skunk. Now all you deck of cowards----"

He let drive with both his guns, but I shot first, and only just in time. One bullet grazed my ear, the other killed a horse; but my shot had done its work and spoiled his aim. His eyes rolled up white, his face went dead, he sat there a corpse in the saddle for maybe a minute, until I yelled, and the horse shied, and the body lurched forward, crashing to the ground, splashing a cloud of dust which was red with the sunset.

CHAPTER XXI

A FLYING HOSPITAL

Captain McCalmont, away north on the trail, pulled up at a bend of the hill.

"Doc," he called out to the man with the led horse astern, "jest you hitch that sorrel of mine to the tail of this rig. That's right, my son; now find out if Buck stays at the skyline or goes b.u.t.tin' straight back to the ranche."

"All right, Cap."

When he was gone, Curly rucked up the canvas ground-sheet, climbed out of bed, and nestled against her father's side on the seat.

"Havin' a bad time?" he asked, as he drove on.

"Sure."

"You heard what I told to Buck?"

"Buck's gawn back to betray the outfit."

"So I reckon."

Curly got her father's near arm around her, shivering while she looked all round at the dusky hills, up to the red of the sunset. Then she listened to the thud of Doc's horse as he galloped back to report.

"Cap," says the man, "Buck's gawn straight away to the ranche."

"That's good," McCalmont chuckled; "you see, Doc, I've sent Buck to lead that sheriff's posse to Holy Crawss. We've got to work to-night, and ain't hungering none for their company. D'you know the Jim Crow Mine?"

"I guess that's the old shaft a mile this side of Grave City?"

"Correct. Now you lope off to the boys we left in camp at Las Aguas.

Tell Stanley he's second in command now. He's to round up his boys, herd 'em close, and drive 'em swift to the Jim Crow Mine. Now repeat my awdehs."

Doc repeated the orders.

"Now," said the Captain, "ride!"

Doc started off on the dead run, and for a while Curly watched his figure flopping away into the blue mists of dusk. The night was falling fast.

"Po' Buck," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, too," says McCalmont; "sooner or later he had to be a skunk, and behave as such."

"He's daid," says Curly. "I heard him die just now, and he did love me so hard."

"The trail is clearing ahead for you, my girl."

"I'm sort of tired," she answered.

"You'll rest to-night."

"Father when you was talking with Jim outside the shack I was awake; I heard all what was said, but couldn't understand. Jim wanted suthin'

fearful bad. What was it he wanted, dad?"

"Wall, now, if that don't beat all! You jest got ears like a lil' fox!

And didn't I act plumb good and tame with that Jim boy?"

"Which you sh.o.r.ely did. Fancy, you taking all that war-talk, and never even shooting his laigs. Yo're getting better'n better every day."

"I was good, that's a fact. You see, I nacherally couldn't lose my temper without disturbing you with my gun-talk. Besides, I jest cayn't help loving that Jim. You want him, Curly?"

"Sure, I don't know what's coming over me the way I feels at that man.

It seems as though my heart was pitchin' and buckin' like a mean hawss to get at Jim. D'you think it's this wound that tears my heart--is it 'cause I'm so sick?"