The Night Riders Part 20

He paused for one breathless instant at the hither side of the foreman's hut. It was because he heard Jake's voice cursing on the other side of it. Then he heard that which made his blood leap to his brain. It was a stifled cry in Nelson's now almost unrecognizable voice. And its piteous appeal aroused in him a blind fury.

He charged round the building in half a dozen strides. One glance at the scene was sufficient. Poor old Joe Nelson was lying on the ground, his arms thrown out to protect his head, while Jake, his face ablaze, stood over him, kicking him with his cruel field boots, with a force and brutishness that promised to break every bone in the old man's body.

It all came to him in a flash.

Then he leapt with a rush at the author of the unnatural scene. The b.u.t.t of his quirt was uplifted. It swung above his head a full half-circle, then it descended with that whistling split of the air that told of the rage and force that impelled it. It took the giant square across the face, laying the flesh open and sending the blood spurting with its vicious impact. It sent him reeling backward with a howl of pain, like a child at the slash of an admonishing cane. And Jake's hands went up to his wounds at once; but, even so, his movements were not swift enough to protect him from a second slash of the vengeful thong. And Tresler's aim was so swift and sure that the bully fell to the ground like a pole-axed steer.

And with Jake's fall the tension of Tresler's rage relaxed. He could have carried the chastis.e.m.e.nt further with a certain wild delight, but he was no savage, only a real, human man, outraged and infuriated by the savagery of another. His one thought was for his poor old friend, and he dropped on his knees, and bent over the still, shrunken form in a painful anxiety. He called to him, and put one hand under the gray old head and raised it up. And as he did so the poor fellow's eyes opened. Joe murmured something unintelligible, and Tresler was about to speak again, when a movement behind him changed his purpose and brought him to his feet with a leap.

Nor was he any too soon. And his rage lit anew as he saw Jake struggling to rise. In an instant he was standing over him threateningly.

"Move, and I'll paralyze you!" he cried hoa.r.s.ely.

And Jake made no further effort. He lay back with a growl of impotent rage, while his hands moved uneasily, mopping his blood-stained features.

Now it was, for the first time, Tresler became aware that the men from the bunkhouse had come upon the scene.

The sight of all those faces gazing in wide-eyed astonishment at the fallen Jake brought home to him something of the enormity of his offense, and it behooved him to get Joe out of further harm's way. He stooped, and gathering the little ch.o.r.eman tenderly into his powerful arms, lifted him on to his shoulders and strode away to the bunkhouse, followed by his silent, wondering comrades.

He deposited Joe upon his own bed, and the men crowded round. And questions and answers came in a wild volley about him.

It was Arizona who spoke least and rendered most a.s.sistance. Together he and Tresler undressed the patient and treated him to a rough surgical examination. They soon found that no limbs were broken, but of his ribs they were less certain. He was severely bruised about the head, and this latter no doubt accounted for his unconsciousness. Cold water, harshly applied, though with kind intent, was the necessary restorative, and after a while the twisted face took on a hue of life and the eyes opened. Then Tresler turned to the men about him.

"Boys," he said gravely, "I want you all to remember that this is purely my affair. Joe's and mine--and Jake's. I shall settle it in my own way. For the present we have our work to do."

There was a low murmur, and Arizona raised a pair of fierce eyes to his face. He was going to speak--to voice a common thought; but Tresler understood and cut him short.

"Go easy, Arizona. We're good friends all. You wouldn't like me to interfere in a quarrel of yours."

"That's so--but----"

"Never mind the 'buts.'" And Tresler's keen, honest eyes looked squarely into the seared face of the wild cowpuncher.

For a moment the men stood around looking on with lowering faces, eyeing the prostrate man furtively. But Tresler's att.i.tude gave them no encouragement, and even Arizona felt the influence of his strong personality. Suddenly, as though with a struggle, the cowboy swung round on his fellows and his high-pitched tones filled the silent room.

"Come right on, boys. Guess he's right. We'll git." And he moved toward the door.

And the men, after the slightest possible hesitation, pa.s.sed out in his wake. Tresler waited until the door had closed behind the last of them, then he turned to the injured man.

"Feeling better, Joe?"

"Feelin' better? Why, yes, I guess."

Joe's answer came readily, but in a weak voice.

"No bones broken?"

"Bones? Don't seem."

Tresler seated himself on the bunk and looked into the gray face. At last he rose and prepared to go, but Joe detained him with a look.

"Say--they're gone?" he murmured.

The other sat down again. "Yes."

"Good." Joe sighed and reclosed his eyes; but it was only for a second. He opened them again and went on. "Say, you won't tell her--Miss Dianny. Don't you tell her. Pore little soul, she'll wep them pretty eyes o' hers out, sure. Y' see, I know her. Y' see, I did git drunk yesterday. I knew I'd git it. So it don't signify. Don't tell her."

"She'll be sure to hear of it."

"Say, Tresler," Joe went on, ignoring the other's objection. "Go easy; jest say nothin'. Kind o' fergit this thing fer the time. Ther's other work fer you. I'd a heap sooner I'd bin killed than you git roped into this racket. It's Miss Dianny you're to look to, not me; an' now, mebbe, they'll run you off'n the ranch."

Tresler shook his head decidedly. "Don't be afraid; they can't get rid of me, Joe," he said.

"Ah! Wal, I guess meanwhile you'd best git off to work. I'll pull round after a while. You see, you must go dead easy wi' Jake, 'cos o'

her. Mind it's her--on'y her. You sed it last night. Mebbe this thing's goin' to make trouble. Trouble fer you; an' trouble fer you means trouble fer her."

"I'm going."

Tresler saw the force of the other's argument. He must give them no further hold to turn on him. Yes, he saw how bad his position would be in the future. He wondered what would come of that morning's work; and, in spite of his confident a.s.surance to Joe, he dreaded now lest there should be any means for them to get rid of him. He moved toward the door.

"All right, Joe. I'll keep a check on myself in the future," he said.

"But don't you go and get drunk again or----"

He broke off. Flinging the door open to pa.s.s out, he found himself face to face with the object of their solicitude. Diane had been about to knock, and now started back in confusion. She had not expected this. She thought Tresler was with the "breaking" party. The man saw her distress, and the anxiety in her sweet brown eyes. He knew that at that moment all her thought was for Joe. It was the basket on her arm, full of comforts, that told him. And he knew, too, that she must have been a witness to the disgraceful scene by the barn, for how else could she have learned so quickly what had happened? He put his finger on his lip to silence her, while he closed the bunkhouse door behind him. Then he responded to the inquiry he saw in her eager, troubled face.

"He is better, Miss Diane. He will soon be all right," he added, keeping his voice low lest it should reach the man inside. "Can I give him anything for you? Any message?" He glanced significantly from her face to the basket on her arm.

The girl did not answer at once. Her eyes looked seriously up into his face.

"Thank you," she said at last, a little vaguely. Then she broke out eagerly, and Tresler understood the feeling that prompted her. "I saw the finish of it all," she went on; "oh, the dreadful finish. Thank G.o.d I did not see the rest. When you bore him off on your shoulders I thought he was dead. Then I felt I could not stay away. While I was wondering how to get down here without attracting attention, Sheriff Fyles arrived, and father and he went at once into the office. I knew Jake would be out of the way. I waited until Anton had disappeared with the sheriff's horse, then I hurried down here. Can I see him now?

I have a few little luxuries here which I scrambled together for him."

The girl's appeal was irresistible. Nor was Tresler the man to attempt the impossible. Besides, she knew all, so there was nothing to hide from her. He glanced over at the barn. The men had already saddled. He saw Arizona leading two horses, and recognized Lady Jezebel as one of them. The wild cowpuncher had saddled his mare for him, and the friendliness of the act pleased him.

"Yes, go in and see him," he said. "The place hasn't been cleaned up yet, but perhaps you won't mind that. You will come like an angel of comfort to poor Joe. Poor old fellow! He thinks only of you. You are his one care in life. It will be like a ray of sunshine in his clouded life to be waited on by you. I need hardly give you the caution, but--don't stay long."

Diane nodded, and Tresler stepped aside. The girl's hand was on the door-latch; she hesitated a moment and finally faced about.

"Fyles is here now," she said significantly. "The raiders; do you think you ought----"

"I am going to see him."

"Yes." The girl nodded. She would have said more, but her companion cut her short.

"I must go," he said. Then he pointed over at the mare. "You see?" he added. "She is in view of Jake's window."

The next moment they had parted.