Paradise Bend Part 25

"Yo're goin' to meet him in Farewell, ain't yuh? Seems to me Richie said somethin' about it."

"Sh.o.r.e I am, but what's that got to do with it?"

"Why, maybe that's the reason he wants yuh out of the way. He may not hanker after shootin' it out with yuh."

"No, Sam Blakely ain't afraid," denied Loudon. "He wouldn't object any to meetin' me in Farewell if that was all there was to it. No, what's worryin' him is me bein' here at the Flying M. An' it's worryin' him a lot, or he'd never 'a' sent Block two hundred miles."

"Well, I dunno. Yuh may be right, Tom, but I don't just guess Sam Blakely will try to put any crimps in me. He knows it would come kind o' high. Of course it's mighty puzzlin'. I don't understand it none.

One thing, Blakely sh.o.r.e tried his best to get yuh down on the Lazy River, an' that's why it looks to me like Block was sent to put in the last licks."

"He was, but not the way yuh think. I could gas my head off about Blakely up here in the Bend, an' it wouldn't matter a ---- so long as he was down on the Lazy. But if he left the Lazy an' come projeckin'

up to the Bend, then what I'd be sayin' would count a lot. See now?"

"I see," admitted Scotty.

"Well, gimme a chance to find out what he's up to."

"No, Tom, there's too much to do at the ranch. I can't let yuh go.

Yo're too good a man. I need yuh right at home. We'll wait an' see what happens. Then we'll know what to do."

"It may be too late then," grumbled Loudon.

"If it is, then blame me. I'm the one to lose, anyway."

"Yuh sh.o.r.e are."

Oh, the denseness of ranch owners! Was Scotty Mackenzie to turn out another Saltoun?

"It's a blind trail," observed Scotty, picking up the tangled thread of their discourse. "Some things kind o' fit when yuh look at 'em one way, an' then again they don't when yuh look at 'em another. Cutting don't fit, none whatever. All the time he worked for me, he only went to town twice, an' the last time was six months ago. O'Leary never come to see him, so if somethin's up like yuh say there is, Rufe's out of it. But that won't help him none now. He'll go out if we ever come up with him."

"If we do," supplemented Loudon.

"My idea exactly. That hoss o' yores can sh.o.r.e wriggle along, an' he had a big start."

"I'm goin' through to Rocket anyhow."

"Me, too."

Till the latter half of the afternoon they kept the ponies loping.

Then, slowing to a walk, they risked a short-cut and did not strike the trail again till the sun was setting.

"Still keepin' together," announced Loudon, after one look at the trail.

"An' still hittin' the high places," said Scotty. "Them two cayuses sh.o.r.e have bottom. Cutting knowed a good hoss all right."

CHAPTER XI

ROCKET

The two men reached Rocket before midnight and rode up to the door of the combination saloon and hotel. While Scotty hammered on the planks with his fist, Loudon uttered stentorian yells. Rocket, male and female, awoke, poked their heads out of the windows and shrilly demanded information.

"Hoss thief!" bawled Loudon. "He's ridin' a long-legged chestnut with a white spot on his nose! Fellah with him on a black horse! The sport on the black may or may not be dressed like a bird, accordin' to whether he's washed himself! Have yuh seen 'em?"

Rocket with one voice a.s.sured Loudon that he was drunk, and advised the watering-trough.

"I ain't foolin'," expostulated Loudon. "The gent on the black cayuse, which his name is Block, Sheriff o' Fort Creek County, was tarred an'

feathered in Paradise Bend this afternoon."

Partisan Rocket cheered, and, in the same breath, grieved that neither of the fugitives had been seen and clamoured to know details of the tarring and feathering. Rocket was in Sunset County, and it was delightful to hear that Fort Creek, in the person of its sheriff, had been insulted.

Loudon, sitting at ease on his weary, drooping-headed pony, told the tale. He carefully refrained, however, from mentioning his own leading part in the affair. Rocket received the story with howls of mirth.

Later, the male portion stuffed its nightshirts into trousers, pulled on boots, and gathered three deep around Loudon and Scotty while the two devoured cold beef and beans in the dining room of the hotel.

"Glad to see yo're feelin' better over yore hoss," observed Scotty, when the last Rocketer had departed.

"Oh, I made 'em laugh," said Loudon, dismally. "But it didn't make me feel like laughin' myself a little bit. I feel just as bad as ever--worse if anythin'. Why, Scotty, that hoss could do everythin'

but talk."

"Sh.o.r.e," said Scotty, hastily, "but we can't do nothin' now. We've done all we could. They didn't come through Rocket, that's certain.

They've done turned off some'ers. We can't trail 'em to-night, an' by to-morrow they'll be forty mile off. There's no use in keepin' it up."

Scotty looked anxiously at Loudon. The latter made no reply. He was staring at the lamp on the table, his expression bitter in the extreme.

"Tell yuh what," hazarded Scotty. "Yuh can have that bay yo're ridin'.

He ain't like yore reg'lar hoss, but he's a good pony. Look at the way he went to-day. Got bottom, that hoss has. Go till the Gulf o' Mexico freezes solid."

"That's right good o' yuh, Scotty, but I couldn't take him off yuh thataway. I might buy him some day."

"The offer goes as it lays. Yuh don't have to buy him. He's yores whenever yuh want him. Well, what are yuh figurin' on doin'?"

"It's no use chasin' 'em any more now. I know that. Might as well wander back where we come from. Later, two or three weeks maybe, I'm goin' south."

"Goin' south!" Scotty was aghast. He did not wish to lose his best man.

"Yep. Goin' south. Don't expect to find Cutting first off. But I'll find Block, an' I guess he'll know somethin' about friend Cutting. I'd go instanter, only I want to give Block time to get back an' get settled before I pay him a call. I tell yuh, Scotty, I want that hoss o' mine, an' I'll get him back if it takes me the rest o' my life!"

"You gents want beds?" inquired the landlord, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

"Sh.o.r.e," replied Scotty. "Two of 'em."

"Say, who's the postmaster here?" Loudon asked.

"Me," was the landlord's weary reply.

"A couple o' days ago," said Loudon, "a letter addressed to John Doubleday in Paradise Bend was mailed here. Remember who mailed it?"