The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Part 50

"Well, you missed a good chance," said one of the men, as they moved slowly toward the entrance to Pony Baxter's.

"How about you? If you ain't forgetting it was the first one of us that seen him was to get him."

"And White-Eye, here, seen him first, when he crawled out of that rig.

If we'd 'a' gone up, instead of standin' here lettin' our feet git cold--"

"He must 'a' had his roll with him," said Pino, one of White-Eye's companions and incidentally a member of that inglorious legion, "The Men Who Can't Come Back."

"'T ain't his roll I want," said White-Eye.

"Too dam' bad about you not wantin' his roll. Any time--"

"Any time you git The Spider's roll, you got to git him," a.s.serted another member of this nocturnal quartette, a man whose right arm and shoulder sagged queerly.

"The Spider ain't no _kid_, neither,"--and White-Eye paused at the dimly lighted stairway entrance.

The man with the deformed shoulder cursed White-Eye. The others laughed.

"Let's go git a drink--and then we'll have a talk with Pony. Come on, Steve."

They turned and drifted on up the street. Presently they were back at the stairway entrance. "Pony won't stand for no rough stuff," advised White-Eye as they turned and climbed the stair. "I'll do the talkin'."

"I reckon he'll stand for anything we hand him," said Pino. "Fancy clothes don't cut any figure with me."

"n.o.body that ever got a good look at you would say so," a.s.serted White-Eye. He paused at the head of the stairs. "I aim to find out what The Spider wanted up here."

"Go to it!"--and Pino grinned.

As they entered the "office," Baxter was talking with his partner, with whom he exchanged a significant glance as he realized who his visitors were. The partner excused himself and stepped into the room beyond.

"Well, boys, what can I do for you?" Baxter's manner was suavely affable.

"We're lookin' for a friend," declared White-Eye.

"I don't think he's here." And Baxter smiled his professional smile.

"But he's been here," a.s.serted White-Eye. "We ain't here to make a noise. We jest want to know what The Spider was doin' up here a spell ago."

"Oh, Jim? Why, he dropped in to shake hands. I hadn't seen him for several years. Didn't know he was in town."

"Feed that soft stuff to the yearlins'," snarled White-Eye. "The Spider ain't chousin' around El Paso for his health, or yours."

Baxter was about to say something when Pino stooped and picked up the pieces of paper which The Spider had torn in two just before he left.

Pino had no special motive in picking up those torn bits of paper. He simply saw them, picked them up, and rolled them nervously in his fingers. White-Eye, watching Baxter, saw him blink and in turn watch Pino's fingers as he twisted and untwisted the bits of paper.

"He can't keep his hands still," said White-Eye, shrugging his shoulder toward Pino. "Ever meet Pino. No? Well, he's a artist--when it comes to drawin'--"

Pino dropped the bits of paper, rose, and shook hands indifferently with Baxter. As Pino sat down again, Baxter stooped and casually picked up the torn pad-leaf on which he had written White-Eye's address. He turned to his desk and taking a box of cigars from a drawer pa.s.sed it around. White-Eye's pin-point pupils glittered. Pony Baxter seemed mighty anxious to get those two bits of paper out of sight. White-Eye had seen him drop them in the drawer as he opened it.

"Where did you send The Spider?" asked White-Eye quickly.

"Send him! Didn't send him anywhere. He said he was going back to his hotel."

White-Eye blinked. He knew that The Spider was not stopping at a hotel. For some reason Baxter had lied.

"How's the game to-night?" queried White-Eye.

"Quiet," replied Baxter.

"Any strangers inside?"

"No--not the kind of strangers you mean."

"Then I reckon we'll take a look in. Don't mind takin' a whirl at the wheel myself."

"Come right in," said Baxter, as though relieved, and he opened the door and stood aside to let them pa.s.s.

A quiet game of poker was running at a table near the door. Farther down the room, which was s.p.a.cious and brilliantly lighted, a group were playing the wheel. At the table beyond the usual faro game was in progress. All told there were some fifteen men in the room, not counting the dealers and lookout. One or two men glanced up as White-Eye and his companions entered and sauntered from table to table.

To the regular habitues of the place, White-Eye and his companions were simply "rough-necks" to whom Baxter was showing "the joint."

Presently Baxter excused himself and, telling his visitors to make themselves at home, strode back to his office. White-Eye and Pino watched the wheel, while the man with the deformed shoulder and his companion stood watching the faro game. The room was quiet save for the soft click of the chips, the whirring of the ball, an occasional oath, and the monotonous voice of the faro-dealer.

Pino nudged White-Eye and indicated the little pile of gold that was stacked before a player at the faro table. White-Eye shook his head and stepped casually back. Pino sauntered over to him.

"Chanct for a clean-up?" whispered Pino.

"No show. The lookout's a gun. I know him. So is that guy at the wheel. Pony's pardner packs a gat; and that guy standin' over by the wall, smoking is drawin' down reg'lar pay for jest standin' there, every night. 'Sides, they ain't enough stuff in sight to take a chanct for. We ain't organized for this kind of a deal."

"Then what's the use of hangin' around?"

"'Cause they was somethin' on that piece of paper you picked up out there that Pony didn't want us to see--and I aim to find out what it was."

"The number of some dame, most like," said Pino, grinning.

"Did you hear him say The Spider went back to his _hotel_? Well, Pony is double-crossin' somebody. Jest stick around and keep your eye on the door."

Meanwhile The Spider had arrived at the address given him--an empty bas.e.m.e.nt store in the south end of town. The place was dark and evidently abandoned. Back of the store was a room in which were two cheap iron beds, a washstand, and two chairs. The rear door of this room opened on an alley, and it was through this door that White-Eye and his companions entered and left the premises, which they had rented at a low rate from the lessee of the place who now ran a grocery on the street level, near the corner.

The Spider had no means of knowing of the back room and thought that Baxter had sent him to a chance number to get rid of him; or that the latter would possibly suggest that White-Eye must have left the neighborhood.

"Is there a back stairs to Pony's place?" queried The Spider as he stood by the cab.

"No. But there's a fire-escape in the alley back of the block. The last time they raided Pony the bulls got six gents comin' down the iron ladder."

"Just drive round that way." The Spider stepped into the cab.

"You ain't a Government man, are you?" queried cabby.