The One-Way Trail Part 30

they're drivin' them forty three-year-olds that was pinched up at the back o' the northern spurs. Say----"

But he broke off, concentrating upon the oncoming cattle even more closely. Everybody was doing the same. Jim had also recognized the two cow-punchers. And he, like the rest, was wondering and speculating as to the news that was to be poured into their curious ears directly.

The cattle were running and it was evident the two boys were in a hurry for their supper, or to deliver their news. The waiting crowd cleared the way. And one of the boys, at Jim's order, hurried down to the corrals to receive them. He stood by, joined by several others, to head the beasts into their quarters.

They came with a rush of shuffling, plodding feet bellowing protest at the hurry, or welcome at sight of the piles of hay that one or two of the men were already pitching into the corral for their consumption.

And in less than five minutes they were housed for the night.

Then it was that Jim greeted the two cow-punchers.

"The boss'll be pleased, boys. Glad to see you back, Dutchy, and you, too, Joe. Guess you'll have things to report so----"

The boys were out of their saddles and loosening their cinchas. They eyed him curiously without attempting to acknowledge his greeting. The rest of the men had gathered round. And now it was noticeable that while they pointedly ignored their foreman, the newcomers, equally markedly, exchanged friendly nods and grins with their colleagues.

Just for a moment Jim wondered. Then annoyance added sharpness to his words. He was not accustomed to being treated in this cool fashion.

"You best come right up to my shack and report," he said. "You can get supper after. I'll need to know at once----"

"Best get a look at them beasties fust," said Joe, in a harsh tone, and with an unmistakable laugh.

"Yep," sn.i.g.g.e.red Dutchy, with an insolent look into Jim's face.

The studied insult of both the men was so apparent that all eyes were turned curiously upon the foreman. For Jim Thorpe was popular. More than popular. He was probably the best-liked man on the range. Then, too, Jim, in their experience, was never one to take things "lying down."

His dark, clear brows drew ominously together, and his eyes narrowed unpleasantly.

"Say, the sun's hurt you some, boys, hasn't it?" he asked sharply.

Then he went on rapidly, his teeth clipping with each sentence: "See here, get right up to my shack. I'll take that report. And I don't need any talk about it. Get me?"

But though the men remained silent the insolence of their eyes answered him. Dutchy slung his saddle over his shoulder and stood while Joe picked up his belongings. And in those moments his eyes unflinchingly fixed his foreman, and a smile, an infuriating smile of contempt, slowly broke over his heavy Teutonic features.

It was too much for Jim. He pointed at his shack. "Hustle!" he cried.

But before the men had time to move away, two of the boys, who had elected to obey their comrade's suggestion, came running up from the corral.

"Say, boss," cried Barney, excitedly, "get a peek at their brands!"

Nor was there any mistaking the man's anxiety--even awe. There was a general rush for the corral. And by the time Jim reluctantly reached the fences he heard smothered exclamations on all sides of him. He came to the barred gateway and peered over at the cattle inside.

The first thing that caught his eye was the broadside of a big steer.

On its shoulder was a brand, at which he stared first incredulously, but presently with horrified amazement. It was the familiar "[double star]." He looked at others. Everywhere he saw his own brand, "double-star twice," as it was popularly known, on cattle which he recognized at a glance as being some of his employer's finest half-bred Polled Angus stock.

His feelings at that moment were indescribable. Astonishment, incredulity, anger all battled for place, and the outcome of them all was a laugh at once mirthless and angry. He turned on the two men waiting with their shouldered saddles.

"I'll take your report--up at the shack." And he pointed at his hut, fifty yards away.

The men moved off obediently. And Jim, left to his own unpleasant thoughts, followed them up.

Half-way to the hut he was joined by McLagan. The Irishman had seen the cattle come in, and was anxious to learn the particulars. His manner, after his recent ill-humor, was almost jocular. He realized that these were cattle he had lost.

"Say, Jim, those boys have picked up a dandy bunch of the lost ones.

How many?"

But the foreman's humor did not by any means fit in with his employer's.

"Didn't count 'em," he said shortly. "I'm just getting the boys'

report. You best come along. It looks like being interesting." Just for a moment a half-smile lit his face.

Dan glanced at him out of the tail of his eyes and fell in beside him.

His foreman's manner was new, and he wondered at it. However, Jim made no effort to open his lips again until they reached the hut.

When they came up the boys were waiting outside the door. Jim promptly led the way in, angrily conscious of the meaning looks which pa.s.sed between them.

Once inside, and Dan had seated himself on the bed, Jim called the two men in.

"Come along in, boys," he cried, and his manner had become more usual.

He understood their att.i.tude now, and somehow he found himself sympathizing with their evident suspicions. After all, he had grown into a thorough cattleman. "Speak up, lads. Let's get the yarn. The boss wants to hear where you found those cattle of his--re-branded with my own brand."

McLagan sat up with a jerk.

"Eh?"

His face was a study. But chiefly it expressed a belief that he was being laughed at. Jim looked squarely into his half-resentful eyes and nodded.

"Those cattle they've just brought in are branded with my brand. You know the brand. You helped me design it. '[double star].' And," he added whimsically, "it's a mighty fine one for obliterating original brands, now I come to study it."

But Dan turned sharply on the two men.

"Let's hear it," he said; and there was no pleasantness in his tone.

It was Joe Bloc who took the lead. Dutchy, though speaking the language of the West freely enough, had, in moments of involved explanation, still the Teutonic failing of involving the verb.

"You see, boss," said Joe, his eyes steadily fixed on the foreman's unflinching face, "we got the news in Barnriff. We'd been out for nigh four days, and we'd decided to ride in here to get fresh plugs. Ours wus good an' done, an' we'd set 'em in Doc Crombie's barn, an' had got over to the saloon for a feed."

"Feed?"

But Dan's sarcasm had no effect.

"That's how, boss. Wal, right in the bar was one of the '[diamond] P'

boys--one of old man Blundell's hands."

"Yes, yes."

"He'd got a tidy yarn, sure, an' seein' we was your hands, an' his yarn was to do with your stock, he handed it to us with frills. He'd just got in from the hills, wher' he'd been trailin'. He said he'd run into Jim Thorpe's stock, tucked away in as nice a hollow of sweet gra.s.s as you'd find this side of Kentucky. Wal, he hadn't no suspicion, seein' whose beasties they were, an' he was for makin'

back. He'd started, he said, when somethin' struck him. Y'see he guessed of a sudden it was a mighty big bunch for a ranch-foreman to be running, an' ther' was such a heap o' half-bred Polled Angus amongst 'em. Wal, seein' that kind was your specialty, he just guessed he'd ride round 'em an' git a peek at the brands. Say, as he said, the game was clear out at once. They'd every son-of-a-cow got '[double star].' on 'em, but nigh haf wus re-brands _over an'

blottin' out the old one_. He got to work an' cut out an' roped one o' them half-breeds, an' hevin' threw him, got down an looked close. The original brand had been burned out, an' the '[double star]'

whacked deep over it. That's just all, boss. We got out an' brought the bunch in--that is, them we knew belonged to the 'AZ's.'"

An ominous silence followed the finish of his story. The smile on Jim's face seemed to be frozen and meaningless. Dan was staring intently at his boots and flicking them with his quirt. Joe turned his head and exchanged a smile of meaning with Dutchy, and both men shifted into an easy pose, as much as to say, "Well, we've found the cattle duffer for you." The moments pa.s.sed heavily, then suddenly Dan looked up. There was storm in his eyes. He had forgotten the cow-punchers.