[strange oliver]sudden

8/19/2019 [Strange Oliver]Sudden

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CHAPTER I

"Too many strangers, that's the trouble in this here one-eyed burg." The hoarse, sneering voice rang out like a challenge, which indeed it was, andthe speaker's bloodshot, savage glare roamed round the room as though daringthose present to refute his statement. He was a big fellow, blue-shirted, with

trousers stuffed into the tops of his high boots, and he wore two guns; aslouched hat partly shaded his bloated, unshaven face. A deepening scowlfurther detracted from his looks when the continued hum of conversationshowed that his remark was being ignored, and the beady eyes glinted evilly. Sothat was it, huh? Well, he'd let them see that someone had to sit up and takenotice when "Pug" Parsons spoke. Though it was yet afternoon, the bar of the Palace Saloon was fairly welpatronized, and the crowd was typical of the Western frontier settlements ofthat day: tradesmen, teamsters, riders from the neighboring ranches, gamblers

a few Mexicans, and a leavening of hard-bitten citizens into whose means oflivelihood it would not have been wise to probe. Most of these Parsons knewby sight at least, but there was one whom he had not seen before. Still in hisearly twenties, slim of hip and broad of shoulder, the stranger leant against thebar with the easy pose of the athlete. His cowboy rig, though worn, was neat,his shirt and the silk handkerchief slung round his neck were clean, and thegrey "two-gallon" Stetson pushed back on his head was nearly new. He alsosported two guns, the ends of the holsters tied with rawhide strings to hisleathern chaps. His lean, shaven, deeply-bronzed face and black hair gave him

almost the appearance of an Indian, but the high cheekbones were missing andthere was a quirk of humor about the grim mouth which softened the outthrust of jaw and level, grayish-blue eyes. Parsons absorbed these details andcame to his own conclusion."Dude puncher, tryin' to put up a two-gun bluff," he muttered. "Reckon I'll

call it." He turned to the proprietor of the place. "Who's the yearlin'?" heasked, with a nod towards the unconscious cowboy. The saloon-keeper, a short, stout man of middle age, with a pleasant bu

weak face, looked in the direction indicated. "New to me," he said. "Rid intotown 's'afternoon." Then, divining what was in the other's mind, "Aw, leavethe boy be, Pug; he ain't doin' no harm. Looks as if he mightn't be too easyrode neither, an' I don't want no trouble here now I got them new glasses."He glanced pridefully at the three gaudy, gilt-framed mirrors decorating the

back of the bar. His warning precipitated the calamity it was designed to


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puncher's right foot. "The next one takes a toe," the gunman warned, and firedagain.But even as he pressed the trigger the cowboy had moved, a swift jump

forward to the right, and then his left foot swept up and kicked the loosely-held weapon from the marksman's fingers. Recovering his balance, thestranger stepped in and drove a fist, with all the impetus of his advancing

body, to the bully's jaw. For an instant the stricken man rocked on his heelsand then crashed to the floor, where he lay mouthing curses and clawing forhis other gun."Don't yu," the puncher rasped. "I'm showin' yu why."He flipped a silver dollar away from him and by the time it tinkled on the

boards both his guns were out and spouting flame. The first bullet struck theedge of the coin, spinning it in the air again, the second drove it down, and thethird jumped it a yard further away. Ten shots in as many seconds were firedand each time the winking target was fairly hit. Then the puncher thrust his

weapons back into their holsters and looked contemptuously at the prostrateman."Here endeth the first lesson," he said. "yu can stand up on yore hind legs

again. There's two pills left in my guns, case yu got any ideas."Parsons scrambled slowly to his feet; the blood seemed to have drained from

his face, leaving it a yellowish white — a fish-belly white, unwholesomerepulsive. Out of it his malignant little eyes watched the smoke-wreathed wizard who had sardonically invited him to die. For he knew it meant just thatand for the first time in his life, he, Pug Parsons, who had watched men cringe

before his levelled gun and had shot them down with a jeer, was conscious ofabject physical fear. He had only one desire — to save his life. A little coughbroke the tense silence and Parsons jumped; his nerve had gone.“`Li'l think-box don't seem to be workin'," the stranger said mockingly, andthen, in a different tone, "I'm givin' yu thirty minutes to leave town." Helooked at the landlord. "How much that mirror cost yu?""She set me back one hundred bucks," was the reply. The puncher turned to

Parsons. "Ante up," he said curtly. The gunman moistened his parched lips. "I ain't got--" he began."Yu took three hundred from a pilgrim in this room las' night," the saloon-

keeper cut in."Ante up," the puncher repeated, and there was a deadly finality in his voice.

Parsons pulled a roll of bills from his pocket, and, with fumbling fingerspeeled off several and flung them on the bar.


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"Better count 'em," he said, with a poor attempt at bravado."Betche life," the landlord retorted, and did so. "All correct," he added. The puncher looked at the man he had worsted. "Yu got twenty minutesleft," he said. "Make good use of 'em, or yu'll be takin' part in a funeral — theleadin' part. Sabe?"Like a whipped hound the ruffian slunk out of the saloon, and the onlookers

stirred to action again. The owner of the place put the matter plainly."Stranger, I reckon this town is mighty obliged to yu," he said. "That fella has

been a blister on it for months — he's killed two men an' crippled four-fiveothers. Oh, he can use his guns pretty nifty, but he'd have to start the day aforeto beat yu." One of the men had picked up the battered dollar and wasexamining it. The landlord called to him: "Pass that over, Timms." He turnedto the owner of the coin. "This buys drinks for the crowd if yo're willin'friend," he said."Set 'em up," the puncher smiled.

The saloon-keeper sent bottles and glasses spinning along the bar in front ofthe lined-up customers, and then drove a nail through the defaced coinfastening it to the edge of a shelf."I guess I'll git some questions 'bout that," he remarked. "Folk'll think it's bad

money, but it ain't — it's good money, the best I ever see. What's more, I wantyu gents to remember that this yer saloon has got a new name — she's `TheShot Dollar' from now on, an' yu'll drink with me on that." A chorus of acclamation greeted his proposal, and the landlord receivedmany compliments on his business acumen. In the midst of the celebration he

drew the puncher aside."Stranger," he said. "yu've done me one hell of a good turn. Is there any way

I can square the 'count?""Yu don't owe me nothin'," was the reply. "That jasper was after my hair

Reminds me, I got a li'l business to attend to. See yu later — mebbe.""If yo're goin' to look for Pug, yo're wastin' time," the other told him. "yu

busted that fella wide open, an' his bronc'll be throwin' gravel plentyindustrious just now.""I gotta show myself," the puncher replied.He stepped swiftly through the swing-doors, his gaze darting right and left

for, despite the landlord's confidence, there was always the chance that thebeaten man might make a desperate attempt to avenge himself and regain hislost reputation. But there was no sign, and after waiting a moment, thepuncher stepped along the street. Then he became aware that someone had


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followed him out of the saloon."Young man, I would like a word with you." The puncher paused instantly, his manner alert. But there was nothingformidable in the speaker's appearance : a short, bulky man of around forty-five, dressed in black "store" clothes, with a white collar and neatly-tied cravatHe had, the cowboy now remembered, been sitting alone at a table in one

corner of the Palace."I've some whisky and cigars at the hotel I'd like your opinion of — I think

they are better than our friend back there provides," the little man went on."You see" — a twinkle sprang into his grey eyes — "I don't have to buy

mirrors." The cowboy liked that twinkle, but he did not reply at once. As he hadalready proved, he could, on occasion, decide and act with amazing speed, butsave under the spur of necessity, he was a deliberate animal. He was wondering what this man was. His educated speech, and his attire, with an indefinite air of

authority, suggested a lawyer, schoolmaster, or parson; he wore no weapons insight, but that meant little — card-sharps and crooks frequently posed asinoffensive citizens. The liquor he was invited to sample might be hocussedHe suddenly decided that he was able to take care of himself and his "roll.""I don't seem to have no other engagement, seh," he drawled."Good," was the reply.Heads turned curiously as they passed along the street, for the story of the

fracas at the Palace had soon spread and the puncher was already famous. Mensmiled as they saw the stout little stranger almost trotting to keep up with the

long, easy stride of the tall cowboy."If he's aimin' to lift that fella's wad he deserves to git it for his pluck,"

remarked one. "Me, I'd sooner wrastle a wild cat." At the hotel the little man led the way to a private parlour, reached a bottle of

whisky and a box of cigars from a cupboard, and invited his guest to sit downand help himself. His next remark was a curious one."You don't seem to care for dancing," he said, and the twinkle was again

evident. The guest grinned broadly. "Shore do, but I'm a mite fussy 'bout the music,"he replied. A short silence ensued; the puncher was waiting for the next move. Theliquor and the smoke were both of good quality — he had expected they wouldbe — but that only made him more suspicious. His host evidently divined hisattitude.


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"Time we got acquainted," he said. "My name is Bleke, and I hail from Tucson; you may have heard of me." Though the cowboy's lounging form remained motionless, his narrowed eyes

widened. It was difficult to believe that this harmless-appearing little mancould be Governor Bleke of Arizona, whose reputation for cold courage andimplacability of purpose as a ruler extended far beyond his own turbulent

territory, but — and he afterwards wondered why — it never occurred to him todoubt the statement. Custom required that he should now declare his ownname, but he hesitated. His host smiled shrewdly."You are James Green of Texas, and sometimes men call you `Sudden,' " he

said easily. "I came here to find you." The puncher stiffened, his cigar clamped between his lips, leaving both handsfree; his eyes were frosty. The man from Tucson held up a hand, palmoutwards, the Indian sign of peace."You're forgetting that this salubrious settlement of Juniper is in New

Mexico," he pointed out. "If I ordered the sheriff to arrest you he'd tell me where I could go." The cow-puncher looked a shade abashed, and Bleke wenton, "You're drifting, young fellow, and drifting the wrong way. Already you arenamed as an outlaw, and two sheriffs are searching for you.""An' they want me for crimes I never committed,"Sudden said bitterly

"Things done when I was scores o' miles away. I never stole a dollar in my life,an' yet I'm hunted like I was a mad dawg.""All that I know," replied the elder man. "If you are quick with a gun it's easy

to get a bad reputation in the West; you get trouble forced on you, as it was

back there in the saloon; the way you handled that skunk told me a lot — youhad every right to kill him. But where's it going to end, Green? Sooner or lateryou'll be caught and punished for something you didn't do, and then — you'lrun wild. As it is, you've got to keep moving.""There's another reason for that," the puncher said darkly."Well, that's as maybe; I'm not asking," Bleke replied. "I want a man who can

use his weapons ""I'm no hired killer," the other harshly interrupted."If you were I wouldn't be talking to you," was the sharp retort. "Listen to

me; there are plague spots in Arizona that I want cleared up, and the man whodoes that must be able to protect himself. As a deputy-sheriff he will have theauthority of the law behind him, but that won't mean anything unless he canback it up with a gun, and it's more than likely to tell against him should itbecome known; he'll have to use his own judgment, and that's why I'm


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looking for a man with a head as well as hands. This country is young, and thelaw isn't very well regarded, but the time is coming when it will be, and this is achance for you to get in on the right side." The cowboy did not reply at once; his keen gaze rested speculatively on themaker of this curious proposition. He was beginning to realize the quietforceful personality of this apparently insignificant little man. Bleke too was

silent, waiting, and then the twinkle crept into his eyes again."Of course, it's a risky job I'm offering," he said. "You'll have to depend on

yourself too — I won't be able to help you. If you lose out . . .""I'll go yu, seh," the puncher said instantly. The elder man smiled and nodded. "I'm right glad," he said, his hear

warming to the young fellow who had risen so promptly to his mild bait."Anyone dependent on you?" The visitor shook his head. "I'm shore a lone wolf," he said."Good — from my point of view, that is," the Governor commented. "Now

for details." When, half an hour later, the newly-appointed deputy-sheriff departed, Blekelighted another cigar and smiled his satisfaction."I reckon I've found my man and done the State a service at the same time,"

he sololoquized. "One more turn of the screw and there would have beenanother good citizen gone wrong and merry hell to pay. That boy is of theoutlaw breed, sure enough, and worth saving. Well, if he's looking for actionhe's liable to get it where I've sent him."

CHAPTER II

Two weeks later the man who had humiliated Pug Parsons in Juniper haltedhis horse on the flat top of a mesa and surveyed the surrounding expanse. Therailway, by a devious route, had brought him part of the journey across Arizona, but for the last four days he had been riding, and knew that he mustnow be nearing his destination. The view was wild but imposing. Great ridgesof rock, spired and pinnacled, their bases buried in primeval forest, were onevery side, and between them were savannahs of rich grass in which the tinylakes and streams gleamed like silver in the sunlight. Through a gap in the hillsthe wayfarer caught a glint of yellow, and knew it for a desert. There was nosign of human habitation, and indeed he had seen nothing of the kind since hehad left Doverton in the early morning. The sky was a vault of palest blue, and with no movement in the air, the vertical rays of the mid-day sun had almos


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the heat of flames."Shore is a fierce bit o' country," the cowboy mused. "If half I've heard is

correct, I'm due for a right interestin' time."For though he had talked but little, the mere mention of his objective had

produced raised eyebrows and other symptoms of surprise, and this hadbecome more marked as he proceeded. A citizen of one town he stayed at

even expressed his wonder verbally."I ain't presumin', stranger, but whyever should yu wanta go to Windy?" he

asked. "On'y fella I ever knowed who visited there was bored to death.""Too slow for him, huh?" the traveller suggested."No, too fast — it was a .45 slug what bored him," chuckled the speaker. "The

drinks are shore on yu, stranger." The cow-puncher laughed and paid; he had been fairly caught. But beneaththe surface he sensed a serious undercurrent, an unwillingness to talk about thetown to which he was travelling. The keeper of the hotel at Doverton had

flatly refused to answer his questions."Windy is bad medicine," he had said. "King Burdette has a long arm an' a

heavy fist at the end of it."Sudden smiled grimly as he recalled the remark; the fact that Doverton was

no less than forty miles from Windy suggested that Burdette was an opponento be approached warily. Beyond the bare statement that there was a mess tobe cleared up, and that it would require a man with all his wits about him,some good luck, and an outstanding ability to take care of himself, theGovernor had told him little. As a man will, who spends long, lonely hours

with a horse, he confided in the animal."Dunno what sorta hornets' nest we're a-steppin' into, Nig," he said, "but

there's one way to find out. G'wan, yu cinder from hell." The big black swungits head round, lips lifted to show the strong teeth, and the rider grinnedsardonically. "Playin' yu'd like to bite me, huh? Yu old fraud," and he strokedthe sleek neck. The trail, which might have been no more than a runway for wild creaturesdropped down in a zigzag from the mesa and plunged into a big patch ofpines. Pacing leisurely beneath the pillared arches of the forest, the puncher'sthoughts reverted to the little man who had sought him out to send him onthis errand of danger. He knew that by doing so Bleke had saved him from a worse fate. Saddled, unjustly, with the reputation of an outlaw, hunted incertain parts of his own country, Texas, for offences of which he was noguilty, it would have taken little more to turn him into a desperado. Bleke had


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known it. Sudden himself knew it, and was conscious of a sense of satisfactionin being definitely arrayed on the side of law and order; though, as a youngman will, he affected a quizzical disdain, even to himself."We're respectable folk now, Nig, workin' for Uncle Sam, an' we gotta be

good," he drawled. "No more hellin' round, no fights — the soft answer thaturneth away wrath for us every time; we gotta let ourselves be tromped on, yu

sabe?" The animal shook its head and whinneyed softly."Makes yu laugh, huh?" the rider continued. "Well, I don't blame yu at that

but allasame, if I catch yu chewin' up another gent's hoss I'll just naturallylarrup the linin' outa yu."Emerging from the pines, they came upon evidence of civilization. Facing a

small valley was a one-storeyed log-cabin, with a truck-patch and rude corralLounging in the doorway was a man of middle age, whose sullen eyes surveyedthe intruder curiously. Chewing on the stem of a corncob pipe, his right hand

was behind the door-jamb, and Sudden guessed that the fellow had a weaponhandy; he was clearly suspicious of this capable-looking stranger who reinedup and greeted him with a grin."Howdy, friend! Might this be the way to Windy?""It might, for a man who ain't in a hurry.""So I've strayed some, huh?" the rider smiled. "Well, I got all the time there

is." His gaze took in the slovenly building, noted the half-hearted attempt atcultivation and the few cattle feeding in the valley. "Yu shore picked a nicelocation."

The sneer on the man's face deepened. "Place is all right if a fella was lealone," he said; "But what's the use o' gettin' ambitious when yo're liable to berun off any time? `Nesters' ain't popular in these parts, nor in any others fur asI can make out," he added bitterly."If I'd filed on a bit o' land like this it'd take a lot to stampede me," the

puncher stated."Mebbe, an' then again, mebbe not," the homesteader retorted, his querulous

voice rising. "Buckin' the Burdette boys ain't paid nobody yet."Ere Sudden could reply to this a horseman galloped round a bend in the trail

just beyond the cabin and pulled his pony to a slithering stop in front of themHe was young — little more than twenty — with a freckled face and blue eyes which had a frosty glint in them as they rested on the nester.

"What yu belly-achin' about the Burdettes for, Fosbee?" he asked, and whenthe man did not reply, he asked, "Who's yore friend?"


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"Dunno," Fosbee said sulkily. "Stopped to ask the way to Windy." The young man turned an interested gaze upon the puncher, who, lollingeasily in his saddle, returned it with amused indifference. A likeable enoughyouth, he decided, but somewhat over-imbued with his own importance. Hegot out the makings, rolled and lighted a cigarette, waiting for the question heknew would come. The freckled one fidgeted with his reins for a moment.

"Yo're a stranger here?" he said.Sudden smiled. "Someone musta told yu," he replied with gentle sarcasm. The young man flushed. "What's yore business in Windy?" he asked bluntly.

The cow-puncher was still smiling. "Well, it ain'tadvertisin'," he repliedmeaningly. The snub brought the hot blood again into the boy's cheeks, and for amoment it seemed that he would give vent to his anger. Then, with a little liftof the shoulders, he swung his pony round and spurred away without another word. Sudden watched him disappear with a speculative eye, and then turned

to Fosbee, whose countenance was more lugubrious than ever."Member o' the Royal Family, I take it," he said, and seeing the man did not

get his meaning, he added, "One o' the Burdettes, huh?""Yeah, that was Luce — they called him Lucifer 'count of his havin' a red head

like a match," Fosbee explained. "An' he's the best o' the bunch, though thatain't sayin' a lot.""He certainly don't actually despise hisself," the puncher grinned. "How many

o' the tribe is there?""King Burdette an' three brothers — use ter be five in the family, but the Ol

Man got bumped off three-four months back; shot from cover, he was, overon War Axe Ridge. Nobody knows who done it, but the Burdettes blame thePurdies — there's allus been bad blood between 'em. If I was young Kit PurdieI'd leave the country.""Folks would take it he was guilty," the puncher pointed out."Mebbe, but he'd be alive," the other said dourly. "Yu mark my words, the

Burdette boys will get him."Sudden changed the subject; he did not want to betray more than the natura

curiosity of a stranger in local affairs. "What chance for a cow-wrastler aroundher?" he inquired."Middlin' slim," was the reply. "There's the Circle B — that's Burdette, the C

P — Purdie's ranch, an' the Box S — a small one owned by Slype, the marshal who's too mean to spit. Purdie is yore best bet; he's a white man."

"Yu don't recommend Burdette, huh?" the puncher smiled.


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"If yo're quick with a gun an' ain't pertic'ler, yes," retorted the other. "I'mtakin' it yo're honest.""Thank you," the visitor said gravely. "Likely I'll go gravel-grubbin' for a spell

I'm told there's gold around here.""That's so — Windy started on a gold boom, but it soon petered out. Yu can

get `colour' a'most anywheres in the sand o' Thunder River, but that's all yu do

get. There's fellas still pannin' an' pocket-minin' the slopes o' the valley, butthey don't hardly make more'n a grub-stake.""If they could strike the mother-lode — ""Yu ain't the first to think o' that," Fosbee cut in. "I reckon every man in

town has searched one time or another. Some claims it's up on Ol' Stormy, anmebbe that's why " He paused suddenly. "I'm jawin' too much," he added"See yu later, p'raps."He turned abruptly into the house, leaving the traveller no choice but to ride

on, thoughtfully considering what he had learned. Actually it did not amount

to much. Fosbee did not impress him favourably — a sour, disgruntled fellow who would vent his venom on any more successful than himself, but his fearof the Burdettes was evident."An' I'm bettin' that boy ain't bad," the puncher mused. "O' course, his

manhood is some recent" — he himself was but a few years older — "an' Iexpect he ain't had much experience, but I liked the look of him."Less than half an hour brought him to the rim of a widish gully, the sloping

sides of which were covered with vegetation — spruce, juniper, cactus, and talgrasses. Along the bottom ran a tiny, twisted stream fringed with willows and

cottonwoods. The sight of the water made him thirsty, and he was castingabout for the best place to descend when the angry crash of a rifle awoke asuccession of echoes, giving the impression of a fusillade. There was but oneshot, however, and a ballooning puff of smoke, a little way up the opposingincline, showed whence it came. In a flash the puncher was out of the saddleand crouching behind an outcrop of rock. A moment later he realized that he was not the target, for, from a dense mass of brush almost on the floor of thegully, a rifle spoke in reply. Two simultaneous reports from the other sidefollowed, and leaving his horse, Sudden searched for a break in the foliage.Meanwhile the strange duel continued, but now only two were firing, one

against the other. Had the third man been wiped out? The puncher, whosesympathy had instinctively been for the weaker party, found himself hopingthat this was the case. Presently he happened upon a spit of grass-covered rock which jutted out, and, by worming along it on his belly, was able to overlook


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the spot where the lone marksman was ensconced. Kneeling behind theprostrate trunk of a windfall, his rifle in readiness, a man dressed in the garb ofthe range was peering intently across the gully. For a while nothing happenedand then from the opposite slope came a single shot. Sudden saw the manbelow raise his rifle, but ere he could press the trigger another report rang outand he slumped down, the weapon dropping from nerveless fingers. High up

on the rising ground behind the stricken fighter, smoke curled from the midstof a tree. The watcher cursed as he realized what had taken place."Damnation, they've outplayed him," he muttered, and scrambling back to

the rim of the gully, grabbed his rifle from the saddle, and began to run in thedirection from which the fatal shot had come. Before he could reach ithowever, the thud of hoofs on the trail told him that he was too late. And so itproved. Hundreds of yards distant he had a momentary glimpse of a greyhorse, and fired at it. He knew the shot was useless, but it relieved his feelingsHe found the tree, a big spruce, the abraded trunk of which showed how the

killer had climbed up to get a clear shot at his victim. Save for an empty shell, a Winchester .38, and some faint footprints, there was no further evidence. Thepuncher hoisted himself into the branches, and, as he had expected, found thanothing interrupted his view of the dead man."Pie like mother made," he said savagely. "One coyote keeps him busy while

the other sneaks round an' plugs him from behind. I'd shore like to meet themhombres." With grim, unblinking eyes he searched the valley, but beyond the frequenflash of a bird's wing no sign of life rewarded his scrutiny. Satisfied that the

assassins had decamped, he dropped from the tree, and, leading his horsebegan to work his way down to the scene of the tragedy. This took time, for hehad often to force a passage through the tangle of undergrowth, and detoursto avoid miniature precipices were necessary. So that it was nearly half an hourbefore he stood, hat in hand, beside what, only a short time ago, had been ahuman being in all the vigour of early manhood.One thing the puncher saw at a glance — it was not, as he had suspected

young Burdette. Though about the same age, the dead man had dark hair, andthe glazed eyes which stared up at the blue sky when Sudden turned the bodyover were a deep brown. Death had been instant, for the bullet, entering underthe left shoulder-blade, had penetrated the heart. A whinny took him to aneighbouring thicket, where he found a tied pony bearing the brand C P. Atthe sight of this his frown deepened."Looks like them Burdettes has got even," he muttered; and then, "That fella


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Luce was ridin' a grey. Well, s'pose I'll have to take him in; can't leave the bodyhere for the buzzards."He draped the corpse, face downwards, across the saddle of its own pony

securing it with the lariat hanging from the horn, and then, riding his ownhorse and leading the other, headed into the valley, where he found a dim trail which appeared likely to take him to the town. Pacing soberly along, his

thoughts naturally dwelt upon the grisly burden jolting spasmodically on theback of the other animal. That it was a corpse concerned him little — violendeath was no new thing to him, but the manner in which it had been broughtabout put a savage set to his lips and gave the grey-blue eyes a flintyexpression."It shore looks bad for Mister Luce," he mused. "I wouldn't 'a' said he was

that sort."It was possible that the slain man was only one of the C P outfit, but

remembering what Fosbee had said, Sudden shook his head at the thought; he

was only too sure that the nester had been a true prophet."It'll mean trouble, ol hoss," he confided to his mount — "big trouble; an

what I'm packin' in will certainly start it, but I couldn't do nothin' else."

CHAPTER III

WINDY, so called — according to a facetious dweller therein — because inever was, lay in the middle of a large saucer-like depression enclosed byforest-clad slopes which were themselves walled in by an oval of craggy

granite hills. At the western end of the valley towered Old Stormy, aformidable cone of ribbed and turreted rock, the source of Thunder River which, after a tempestuous journey through the wild gorges of the mountainside, became a wide, and, in summer, a shallow stream rolling lazily along itssandy bed to depart placidly by way of a break in the hills. The eastern limit ofthe valley was dominated by a tree-and scrub-covered, squat pile known asBattle Butte. The westering sun was sinking behind the hills in a flare of crimson fire whenSudden rode into the town. The place presented no features of interest, andsave for the surrounding scenery, might have been any one of the many he hadpassed through. The same dusty, hoof- and wheel-rutted street formed by twoirregular rows of buildings, the most pretentious of which were of log or'dobe, the others being mere shacks with dirt roofs, or dug-outs. Only a few ofthe erections boasted a second storey; several displayed the false front, but the


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sun-scorched, warped shingles rendered the device a transparent one in bothsenses of the word. The absence of paint was remedied by the grey-white alkaldust which covered everything, and a rubble of tin cans which hemmed ineach habitation formed a sordid substitute for vegetation. A cynic might wellhave reflected that in the whole of the valley only the work of mankind was anabomination.

Sudden found the street deserted, but before he had ridden far along it a manemerged from one of the shacks and paused, staring, when he saw the newarrival, who promptly asked for the marshal's office."Furder up, but if yo're needin' Sam, yu'd better try Magee's. I'll show yu," the

man replied. "Whose remainders are yu totin'?""That's what I wanta find out," the traveller told him. Anxious to be first with the news, the other asked no more questionsClumping along the board sidewalk, he made better time than could the horsesin the loose sand, and presently disappeared through the swing-doors of one

of the larger buildings, which bore on a battered sign the inscription "TheLucky Chance." By the time the puncher reached the spot he had a followingof every person he had met, and this was soon augmented by those in thesaloon. The last to appear was the marshal, a smallish, wizened fellow of aboutthirty-five, with a narrow, crafty face, mean eyes, and a still meaner mouth which a drooping black moustache unfortunately failed to conceal. Suddenrecognized the type, a bullying, arrogant jack-in-office, who would take everyadvantage and give none. The man's first words confirmed this impression."Yu wanta see me?" he asked truculently.

"No, but I reckon I gotta," Sudden said acidly. "I've brung yu a job." The retort evoked an audible snicker from the onlookers and a spot of colourin the sallow cheeks of the officer. He looked disgustfully at the limp form onthe led horse."What d'yu s'pose I am — the undertaker?" he sneered."I'm reckonin' that as marshal it's yore job to find out who bumped off this

fella," the puncher retorted. At a word from the marshal two of the bystanders untied the body and laid iton the sidewalk. "Hell's flames, it's Kit Purdie — thought I reckernized his roan" cried one of them; adding meaningly, "yu won't have far to look for them asdid this, Sam.""Keep yore fool trap closed — Up to now there ain't nothin' to show who

done it," the officer snapped, but his forehead wrinkled in a worried frown"Why didn't the damn young idjut pull his freight like I told him?"


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He hent over the body and then straightened up. "Somebody fetch Doc Toley," he ordered, and turned to the puncher. "What d'yu know 'bout this?"

Sitting slackly in his saddle, the puncher told his story. The mention of theglimpsed grey horse brought a curse from Slype. He looked malignantly atSudden."We on'y got yore word," he said. "Yu mighta done it yoreself."

The accused man smiled in derision. "An' fetched him into show yu? Ohyeah," he scoffed."It would 'a' bin a good bluff," retorted the officer. "Lemme see yore gun." At this demand the stranger stiffened, and there was an ominous rasp in his

voice as he replied, "Which end would yu like to look at? She's a Winchester.44 an' the barrel is foul; I told yu I fired once."Ere the marshal could reply to this obvious challenge, a short, fat man, with

long, unkempt hair, and a clever if somewhat bloated face, pushed his wayunceremoniously through the crowd. He was clearly the worse for liquor, but

his speech was careful, precise."What do you want now, Slippery?" he asked, and then, as he saw the

outstretched figure, "young Purdie, eh? So the Burdettes have downed him?" The marshal gritted out an oath. "We dunno; yu got no right to say thatDoc.," he growled."I have a right to say just what I damn please, Slippery," the medico retorted

"If you and your friends the Burdettes don't like it, suit yourselves. What's theuse of sending for me now? I can't put life into a dead man." The marshal's mean eyes flashed an ugly look at him. "Ain't askin' yu to," he

said sullenly. "Want yu to dig suthin' out — the bullet; mebbe it'll give us apointer." Toley turned the corpse so that it lay face downwards, cut away the clothing

which covered the wound, and began to probe. With the morbid curiosity of acrowd the world over, the onlookers jostled one another to get a view, and thedoctor cursed them when the stamping feet threatened to engulf him. Atlength the gruesome task was done and he stood up, the bloodstained pellet oflead between his fingers. The marshal examined it."Looks like a .38 to me," he said reluctantly, and the frown on his face was

heavier."Shore is," agreed half a dozen of the nearest spectators. "What did I tell yu

Sam?" cried the fellow who had spoken before. "Luce Burdette uses a .38.""Yu didn't tell me nothin' 'cept that yore mouth opens too easy, an' I knowed

that afore," snapped the officer. "Luce ain't got the on'y .38 in the world, has


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he?""He's got the on'y one in these parts that I knows of," was the reply."King Burdette'll be glad to hear o' yore interest in his family," sneered Slype

"Hell! Here comes Ol' Man Purdie; what cussed luck brought him to town to-day?"Stepping heavily but swiftly along the sidewalk, with the short, clipped stride

of one who has spent much of his life in the saddle, came a sturdily-builtbroad-shouldered man of around fifty. His strong, clean-shaven face, whichshould have expressed good-humour, was now drawn and haggard. Before hisadvance the crowd opened, and in a moment he was beside the body. Oneglance was enough."God ! " he muttered. "It's true, then." He dropped on one knee and touched

the pallid face. "My lad — my only lad," he whispered brokenly.For some moments there was silence; men who had not thought of it before

furtively removed their hats. Then the bereaved father heaved himself to his

feet, tragedy in every line of his face, his eyes shining wetly in the half-lightBut there was no weakness in voice or bearing when he turned to the marshal."Who did this?" he asked harshly."Yu know near as much as I do, Chris," Slype replied. "This fella fetched him

in" — he jerked a thumb at the cow-puncher. "Claims he saw it happen."Purdie turned his misted eyes on the stranger; his look was an invitation

Sudden repeated his story of the shooting."Yu didn't see the skunk?" the old man asked."No, I caught the flash of a grey hoss through the brush an' took a chance,"

the puncher told him. "The shell I found was a .38 an' the bullet bears that outIf I could 'a' sat in the game I'd 'a' been right pleased.""I'm obliged to yu, friend," Purdie said.From the outskirts of the crowd a voice rang through the gathering gloom

"He'll take the Black Burdettes." The cattleman's head jerked up. "Yu said it, whoever yu are," he grated. "Thisis their work, shore enough.""Hold yore hosses, Purdie," the marshal broke in. "We got mighty little to

justify that.""The hoss an' the gun tally, an' Luce was seen headin' that way a bit before it

happened," Purdie said bitterly. "Yu call that mighty little, huh?""It ain't conclusive," Slype insisted. "If yu want me to deal with this " The other whirled fiercely upon him. "I ain't askin' yu to, Slype; keep out oit. The C P can fight its own battles an' pay its own scores. By God! it'll settle


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this one in full.""That ain't no way to talk, Chris," the marshal remonstrated. "I'm here to

administer the law ""Yo're here to do what the Circle B murderers tell yu," was the angry retort

"Yu can save yore breath; I ain't a-goin' to back down before all the Burdettesthat ever was pupped, an' that goes."

There was no passion in the challenge — it was the stark defiance of one whose life had been a battle; who had faced indomitably all the difficulties anddisasters which the early pioneer in a savage untamed region must expectNature in her wildest moods, Indians, rustlers, starvation, thirst — Chris Purdiehad fought and beaten them all. And now, in his mellowing years, when Fatehad dealt him the bitterest blow of all, he was still unsubdued, still full of fight. There were many such men among the early pioneers; their names areforgotten, but their work survives; they made Western America.

CHAPTER IV

SUDDEN passed the night at the hotel, and in the morning attended thesorry farce of an inquiry into the death of young Purdie. The verdict thatdeceased met his end in a gun-fight with a person or persons unknownappeared to satisfy the marshal, though it aroused murmurs in some quartersNone of the Burdettes was present, a citizen informed the puncher, but whenthat young man suggested that this was perhaps good policy on their part, he was quickly corrected.

"Don't yu get no wrong ideas about them fellas," his informant observed"Ain't none of 'em lackin' sand, an' if they done it an' took the notion, they'dbe here brazenin' it out, yu betcha. Bad? Shore they're bad, but there ain't asmidgin o' fear in the whole bilin', no sir." Then came the interment; the puncher followed the procession to the littlecemetery less than half a mile to the north of the town. There, on a grassyslope shaded by cottonwoods and birches, in a silence broken only by the gaychirping of the birds and a few remembered fragments of the burial servicepronounced by the doctor, the boy was laid to rest. When the two miners whoofficiated had filled in the grave, the spectators resumed their hats and meltedaway. Sudden was the last to leave, save for the sturdy figure with folded armsand bowed head gazing with unseeing eyes at the newly-made mound whichheld all his hopes. The puncher would have liked to utter a word of comfortbut he did not know what to say, and his cowboy's inherent dread of emotion


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in any form kept him tongue-tied. At length he too turned to retrace his stepsto Windy. He had not gone far when Purdie caught him up."Stranger," the cattleman said in a deep voice, "I reckon I ain't thanked yu

right for what yu did."Sudden gripped the outstretched hand. "Why, there ain't any need," he

returned. "I wish I could 've ..." He paused awkwardly, and the other man

nodded his comprehension. "It's shore tough, but life is like that," he said, anddespite his iron control there was a tremor in his tone. "Yu see, he was prettynear all I had — I lost his mother when he was no more'n a li'l trick; there's on'yNan now."He was silent for some moments, and then he straightened up, squaring his

shoulders as though making a conscious effort to free them of a burden. "Yuaimin' to stay around here?" he asked bluntly."I ain't decided," the other replied. "I'm kind o' footloose about now. Got

tired o' Texas an' New Mexico, an' figured I'd have a look at Arizona; heard

there was gold here too." The elder man shot a quick look at him. "There is if a fella knowed where tosearch," he said. They were entering the town when a young man came striding rapidlytowards them; it was Luce Burdette. Sudden's eyes went to his companion, butthe ranch-owner's features had the fixity of stone itself. Burdette did nothesitate; he stopped square in front of them."I've just struck town, Purdie, an' heard of yore loss," he said. "I want yu to

know that I'm terrible sorry."

The cattleman looked at him, his eyes like chilled steel, his lips clampedtightly. "Murder is one o' the things that bein' sorry for don't excuse," lie saidharshly.Burdette's eyes opened in bewilderment and then, as understanding came to

him, his cheeks flushed redly under the tan."Yu tryin' to tell me I killed yore son?" he cried."Nothin' less," was the stern reply. "He was found in Echo Valley with a .38

slug through his back, fired by a fella who rode a grey; there's yore hoss angun, an' you was seen headin' that way a bit before. If yu wasn't a Bur-dette, orif we had a marshal worth a busted nickel, yu'd be stretchin' hemp right now.""It's a damnable lie," the young man said hotly. "I never had any grudge

against Kit — in fact ..." He hesitated and then burst out, "It's absurd. Why, ifthings had been different, him an' me might 'a' been good friends. I give yu my word, Purdie, I had nothin' to do with his death."


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Sudden, watching him closely, believed he was speaking the truth, but thecattleman's face expressed nothing hut incredulity."O' course yu'd say so," he sneered. "I wouldn't take the word of a Burdette

at the Throne of Heaven." His eyes, mad with misery, glared at this lad whohad all his own son had lost — youth, vigour, the vista of life — and a savagespate of anger swept away his control. "Pull yore gun, yu cur, an' we'll settle it

here an' now," he cried. The boy's face flushed at the insult, but he made no move towards his

weapon. His gaze did not waver as he replied :"If yu want to kill me, Purdie, go ahead; there's a reason why I can't draw on

yu." The elder man's lips twisted into a furious snarl. "Yu bet there's a reason —yo're yellow, like the rest o' yore scaly, shoot-from-cover family," he rasped"Well, yu get away with it for now, but paste this in yore hat : I'm goin' to findthe fella who murdered my boy, an' when I do — he dies."

"I'll help yu," Luce replied, and walked slowly away. Purdie looked at thepuncher. "What d'yu make o' that?""I don't think he did it.""Yu don't know the breed — lyin's as natural as breathin' with them," the

rancher replied."I'm backin' my judgment, seh," the puncher persisted."Weil, mebbe, but I'm bettin' it was a Burdette any-ways," the old man said

"What I was goin' to ask yu when that houn' showed up was to see me beforeyu make any plans. Will yu do that?"

"Pleased to," Sudden said.It was agreed that he should ride over to the C P on the following morning,

and the cattleman departed. Sudden went in search of a meal, his mind full ofthe encounter he had just witnessed. He liked Purdie, recognized him for a white man, and admired the sturdy pluck with which he was facing a crushingmisfortune. Regarding Burdette his mind was in a curious condition. As attheir first meeting, he felt attracted to the boy, and found it difficult toconceive him guilty of a cowardly murder. Certainly it was not lack of couragethat made him refuse the older man's challenge, at the risk of being shot down where he stood. If all the Burdettes were like this one .. .

Meanwhile, the subject of his speculations had gone straight to the marshal'soffice. Slype, lounging in a tilted-back chair, his heels on his desk, chuckledinwardly when he saw the visitor's pale, furious face."'Lo, Luce, what's bitin' yu?" he inquired.


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"I've just seen Purdie, an' he's accusin' me o' shootin' Kit," the boy blurtedout. The marshal grinned. "Well, didn't yu?" he asked."Yu know damn well I didn't," Luce retorted hotly. "An' yu gotta get busy an

find out who did; I ain't goin' to have a thing like that pinned on me." • "Orders, huh?" the officer sneered. "Well, I ain't takin' 'em. Ol' Man Purdie

has served notice that him an' his outfit is goin' to handle the job, an' that letsme out. Sabe?"His little eyes squinted at the youth in malignant enjoyment; he would no

have dared to take that tone with any other of the Burdettes."Playin' safe, huh?" Luce said scornfully. "They shore don't call yu `Slippery

for nothin'," and stamped out of the office before any adequate reply occurredto its owner.Getting his horse, he mounted and rode slowly out of town, taking the

westerly trail which was the direct line to Old Stormy. Sitting listlessly in the

saddle, head down, he had an air of dejection utterly foreign to his nature. Intruth, Luce Burdette was in the depths of despair, for the events of the last twodays had wrecked the secret cherished hopes of months. How would NanPurdie regard him now — the reputed slayer of her brother? Despite thedormant enmity between the two families, he had dared to dream, and evenafter the mysterious taking-off of Old Burdette had nearly provoked an openrupture, had gone on doing so. But this latest killing, so obviously a reprisalmust be the end of everything — for him. And the dream had been so sweetUnknown to all others, they had met at intervals — accidentally, as they both

pretended — and though no word of love had been uttered, eyes spoke to eyesand told what the lips dared not say. And now, in the faint hope that he wouldsee her, and be able to deny this damnable thing that was being said of him, he was going to a spot where he had already seen her several times, a shelteredlittle glade on the lower slopes of Old Stormy.It was an ideal place for a lovers' tryst — a tiny circle of grass, mosaiced with

flowers, almost entirely walled in by scrub-oak and other trees, with anundergrowth of catclaw, prickly pear, and smaller shrubs. Burdette's face fel when he found that the glade was empty, though he had expected to find it soDismounting, he trailed the reins and dropped on a prostrate tree-trunk whichhad served them as a seat on happier occasions. With bowed head he sat there wondering. Would she come, and if she did, would she believe him? he askedhimself over and over again. It did not seem possible; she would take herfather's view, and he had to admit that Purdie was justified — the evidence was


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damning. A whinny from his horse apprised him that someone was approaching, andhe looked up to see the girl he was waiting for. At the sight of him she checkedher pony for a moment and then came slowly on. Despite the very evidentsigns of grief, she made a picture to fill the eye of a man. She rode astride, withthe long stirrup of the Arizona cowboy, and her mount — a mettlesome

mustang — knew better than to try any tricks. A dark shirt-waist, and dividedskirt which reached to the tops of her trim riding-boots, showed the curves ofher slim figure, and her honey-coloured hair, cut short almost like a boy'scurled crisply beneath the black wide-brimmed hat. Burdette saw the shadowsunder the deep blue eyes which had always smiled at him, and choked down acurse. Hat in hand, he rose to his feet."I was hopin' to see yu," he said."I didn't expect " the girl began, and then, "I couldn't stay in the house; I had

to come out — just to convince myself that the world isn't all ugly and wicked."

The poignant note of misery made him writhe. "Nan ! " he cried, and his hear was in his voice, "Yu don't believe I did it, do yu?" The tear-laden eyes met his bravely. "If I thought that I wouldn't even look ayou," their owner said. The boy's face lighted for a moment. "Then I don't care who does think it,"he said impulsively."It makes no difference," she told him. "you are a Bur-dette, I am a Purdie

no good can come of our — meeting.""But if yu don't believe the Burdettes did this thing," he protested.

"I didn't say that, Luce," she reminded him, and though she spoke softlythere was an underlying bitterness which told him only too plainly what shedid believe. Hopelessness again claimed him."I'll find the skunk," he gritted. "If my people had any-thin' to do with it, I'll

disown the lot of 'em."He meant it — the savage intensity of his voice showed that — but the gir

shook her head."It is no use, Luce," she said sadly. "That would only mean more trouble. We

belong in different camps, and this must be the end of our — friendship. Weboth have to be loyal to our own kin." The finality with which she spoke silenced him. Miserably he watched as she

wheeled her pony and rode away, the proud little head bent, and — though hedid not know this — the blue eyes well-nigh blind with unshed tears. When thetrees had hidden her, a bitter laugh broke from his lips.


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"Loyal to our own kin," he repeated harshly. "If the Burdettes shoot men inthe back they're no kin o' mine, an' that's somethin' they've gotta learn mightysoon." With a grim look on his young face he stepped into his saddle and loped offin the direction of the Circle B ranch.No sooner was he out of sight than a man rose from behind a clump of

undergrowth on the outskirts of the glade. He was tall, nearing the middlethirties in age, with broad shoulders and a powerful frame. His black hair, eyesand moustache, added to perfectly-formed features, produced a face at whichmost women would look more than once. Even his own sex had to admit thatKingley Burdette was "a handsome devil," and this Mephistophelianattractiveness was accompanied by a haughty, insolent bearing which made hisfirst name singularly appropriate. Just now his thin lips were set in a saturninesneer."So that's the way of it, huh?" he almost hissed. "Readyto round on his own

folk for the sake of a skirt, but mebbe he won't get the chance." His dark eyesnarrowed. "Damn him! He's got ahead o' me. Who'd 'a' thought 'o him shininup to that Purdie gal? — not that she ain't worth it." He pondered for amoment, and then an ugly smile lit his lowering face. "I reckon that'll fix yu,my friend, fix yu good an' plenty," he muttered.He too mounted and trotted leisurely away, his mind full of a young, slim girl

with curly, honey-coloured hair and wide blue eyes, who now would one dayown the C P ranch.Sudden spent the evening in "The Lucky Chance." It was a fair-sized place

with a sanded, boarded floor on which tables and chairs were dotted aboutand a long bar which faced the swing-doors. Light was afforded by three bigkerosene lamps slung from the roof, and a few gaudy chromos formed theonly decoration save for a large tarnished mirror immediately facing theentrance. Behind the har stood the proprietor, Mick Magee, whose squatturned-up nose and twinkling blue eyes proclaimed his nationality before heopened his mouth. A genial man until roused, and then he was a tornado Tough as the frequenters of "The Lucky Chance" were, few of them had anydesire to tangle with the sturdy Irishman when he "went on the prod." Just now he was all smiles, for business was brisk; most of the tables wereoccupied and the faro, monte, and other games were being well supported The crowd presented the usual medley to be found in any cow town at thatime, save that there were more miners, oldish men for the most part, withcraggy, weather-scarred features, bent backs, and fingers calloused by constant


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contact with pick and shovel. Lured on by the will-o'-the-wisp of a "big strike,"they spent their days grubbing in the earth for gold and their nights indissipating what little they found. There were those among them whoremembered the hectic days of '49, others who had sneaked into the BlackHills, dodging the troops sent by the Government to keep them out, andrisking a horrible death by torture at the hands of the Indians; days of feverish

toil, with a rifle always within reach, and the knowledge that at any momentthey might hear the dread war-whoop. They had found fortunes in a day andlost them in a night — and still hoped. There was a constant hum of conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughterand an occasional oath as the goddess of chance favoured or flouted agambler.Lounging carelessly at one end of the bar, Sudden's eyes were busy, not that

the scene was any novelty, but he had come to live amongst these people for atime, and he wanted to know something of them. Presently the proprietor

noticed the solitary stranger and spoke to him."Would ye be after stayin' wid us, Mister Green?" he asked."I'm all undecided," the puncher told him with a smile. "I like the look o' the

lay-out, but, yu see, my appetite keeps regular hours, an' I gotta work. I had anotion to find me a gold-mine." The saloon-keeper regarded him humorously. "Good for ye," he replied. "Butake it from me, the best way to look for wan is from the back of a hosssomewan is payin' ye to ride." The hint was plain enough, and the man to whom it was given nodded a

smiling acquiescence. "I guess yo're right," he said. "As a matter o' fact, I'mseein' Purdie in the mornin'." The remark, coming from a stranger, amounted to a question, and theIrishman took it as such. "A good man, Purdie," he said. "His, sort, they don'tmake 'em no better." He studied the other furtively for a few moments anddecided that he was capable of taking care of himself. Nevertheless, he utteredan indirect warning. "Chris is takin' the loss of his only boy hard," he went on"I misdoubt it'll mean bad throuble between the C P an' the Circle B, which isthe Burdette brand. Easy now, here's a couple of them." Through the swing-doors came two men in cowboy trappings, tall, bigboned, dark of hair and brow, with bold, hard faces and insolent, dominaneyes. Though one was a few years the elder, and a veritable giant in build, they were sufficiently alike for their relationship to be obvious. Magee lookeduneasy.


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"Mart an' Sim Burdette," he said in an undertone. "Pretty well primed toobegad." Then, as he turned to welcome the newcomers, the puncher caughtthe added words, "An ugly pair to draw to." Through narrowed eyes Sudden watched the brothers swagger up to the barand decided that the landlord was right. He noted that each wore only one gunin sight, a heavy Colt's .45, slung below the right hip. Though they were

laughing, their eyes were as cold as those of a snake. They greeted the saloon-keeper boisterously and inquired for the marshal. At that moment Slype camein."Hey, Slippery, I hear yo're tryin' to pin this Purdie play on the Burdettes,"

Mart — the bigger man — said threateningly."Yu heard a lie," the marshal retorted. "One or two things sorta suggested

Luce, but he claims he had nothin' to do with it.""Did yu expect he'd own up?" sneered the other. "An' if he did down Purdie

I'll say he done a good job, though it don't even the score. What yu goin' to do

about it?"He glared round the room as though daring anyone present to dispute his

callous assertion. The marshal, who knew the challenge was directed chiefly athimself, shrugged his shoulders in a poor assumption of indifference."Ain't no call for me to concern m'self," he replied. "Like I told Luce, Ol

Man Purdie reckons him an' his outfit can deal with it.""Is that so?" Mart growled. "Wants a fight, does he? Well, that suits us fine

eh, Sim?" The younger brother laughed. "Yu betcha," he agreed.

Slype made a gesture for appearance' sake. "Now, see here, Mart, a range warain't goin' to do this yer town no good," he protested. "All Chris wants, Ireckon, is to find out who bumped off his boy.""Bah! He's plastered it on the Burdettes a'ready," Sim said angrily. "Awright

we'll let it go as it lays; the Burdettes can take care o' theirselves.""An' whose side are yu on, anyways, Slippery?" snapped Mart."I represent the law, an' I'm agin both o' yu," the marshal evaded, a reply

which drew an ironic laugh from the brothers. "Where's King? Left him at LuLavigne's, I reckon?""Yu reckon pretty good," Sim replied, adding slyly, "Why not send if yu want

him?""I don't," the officer said hastily. "I just asked. What about a little game?"Sudden stayed a while longer, hoping to see the eldest of the Burdettes, but

was disappointed. Weldon, the blacksmith, a bluff, bearded giant with whom


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he got into conversation, explained the marshal's reference to King's whereabouts. He would be at "The Plaza," the only real rival establishment to"The Lucky Chance." It was owned and run by a woman, who had bought outthe former proprietor less than a year before. Save that she was youngattractive, and wise to her business, nothing was known of her."Calls herself Mrs. Luisa Lavigne, but no husband ain't showed up yet," the

blacksmith said. "She's certainly restful to the sight, but I'm layin' she's gotSpanish blood in her, an' a temper to match. Soon after she hung out hershingle, a cowboy tries to get fresh with her, an' she slips a knife into himmiddlin' prompt. No, he didn't die, but it shorely puts a crimp in his affection.O' course, it don't stop others sufferin' from the same complaint, but it makes'em careful, an' when King Burdette starts hangin' round, most of 'em losesinterest."Sudden ventured to ask one direct question, and to his surprise, received an

answer.

"If it comes to a fight, I opine Purdie would have most of the town againsthim?""Stranger, Purdie is liked, but the Burdettes is feared." Which was exactly what the puncher wanted to know.

CHAPTER V

THE C P ranch-house occupied a little plateau in the foothills around thebase of Old Stormy, facing the great valley in which, ten miles distant, lay the

town of Windy. Solidly built of 'dobe bricks and shaped logs, with chimneys ofstone, it had an imposing appearance despite the fact that it consisted of onestorey only. A broad, covered verandah, paved with pieces of rock, stretchedalong the front of the building, and to the left were the bunkhouse, barns, andcorrals. A few cottonwoods, spared when the ground had been first clearedprovided shade. At the back of the house a grassy slope climbed gently to theblack pines which belted the mountain. Sudden found the owner on the verandah.

"Mornin', friend," Purdie greeted, and pulled forward a chair. "That's a goodhoss yu got.""Shore is," replied the puncher, and waited."Made them plans yet?" came the question, and when the visitor replied in

the negative, another silence ensued. Sudden was aware that the cattleman wassizing him up, turning over some problem. Presently he straightened as though


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She shook hands, a kindness in her eyes for which he could not account. Her words explained it, or at least he thought so.

"I have to thank you for — what you did," she said. The new foreman fidgeted with his feet; he would rather have faced a man with a gun than this dewy-eyed, grateful girl.

"It don't need mentionin'," he stammered.

"Green's goin' to help us find the slinkin' cur that did it, Nan," Purdie put inharshly : and to the puncher, "Well, Jim, fetch yore war-bags along an' start insoon's yu like; it'll be a relief to know yo're on the job.""I'll be on hand in the mornin'," the puncher promised. They watched until a

grove of trees hid him from view, and then the rancher asked a question."I like him," Nan replied. "But isn't it taking a chance? We know nothing

about him.""Mebbe it is, but I'm playin' a hunch," her father told her. "That fella ain't no

common cow-punch. He's young, but he's had experience, an' them guns o' his

ain't noways new. I'm bettin' he'll make them Burdette killers think." Just at the moment, however, it was the other way about, for the newforeman's brain was busy with the burden he had so promptly undertaken. Hehad no illusion as to the nature of his task; he had been hired to fight theBurdette family, and, judging by the samples he had seen, and the informationhe had gained regarding their outfit, he was likely to have his hands full. A thinsmile wreathed his lips; the little man in Juniper had not over-stated the case. Absorbed in his thoughts, he was pacing slowly through a miniature forest

when a little cry aroused him, and hel ooked up to see a woman running along

the trail ahead of him. Fifty yards in front of her a saddled pony was trotting. A touch of the spur sent Nigger rocketing past the pedestrian and in a fewmoments Sudden was back again, his rope round the runaway's neck. Hefound the woman sitting on a fallen tree-trunk. She was young — about hisown age, he estimated — and her oval face — the skin faintly tanned by thesun — black hair and eyes, made her good to look upon. A neat riding costumedisplayed her perfect figure to advantage. He noted that her cheeks were butslightly flushed and her breathing betrayed no sign of haste."Gracias, senor," she greeted in a low, sweet voice. "I descend to peek ze

flower an' my ponce vamos." The puncher grinned, twitched his loop from the animal's neck and flung thereins to the ground."If yu'd done that he'd 'a' stayed put," he exclaimed. Her eyes widened. "So?"

she said. "The senor weel see zat I am w'at is call a sore-foot, yes?"


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Sudden laughed and said. "The word is `tenderfoot.' " His gaze travelled toher trim high boots. "Yu've shore got a pretty one," he added. The lady dimpled deliciously, and lifting her feet from the ground, inspectedtheir shapeliness critically."You like heem?" she asked archly."I like heem," the puncher repeated. "I like heemboth. Now, s'pose we drop

the baby-talk an' speak natural; yu ain't no Greaser." The girl's eyes danced. "So young, and yet — so wise," she bantered."My second name is Solomon," he told her gravely. "Mebbe yu've heard of

him?""Oh yes, he was the first Mormon, I believe," she smiled. "I hope you… "Sudden shook his head emphatically. "Not one," he said."Why, of course not, at your age," she replied, and then, as he bent down

from the saddle to study the sleek black head — from which she had nowremoved the hat — more closely, her feminine fears were aroused. "What is the

matter?" she cried."I'm lookin' for the grey hairs," he said solemnly. "They seem to be plenty

absent.""Dios! But you scared me," she said, in real or pretended relief. "I though

that you had found some, or that a rattlesnake was looking over my shoulder You are rather a disconcerting person, Mister Green."

"Yu know me?" the puncher queried."Of course," she smiled. "Your arrival created quite a sensation." Her voice

sobered. "That poor Mister Purdie, and Kit was such a nice boy. Now, can you

guess who I am?""No need to guess — yu must be Mrs. Lavigne," Sudden replied. "Someone

was tellin' me about yu.""Nothing bad, I hope?" she asked anxiously."No, it was a man," the puncher grinned. "He said yu were restful to the

sight."She laughed delightedly. "So you might venture to come and see me at `The

Plaza,' " she suggested. "That is, if you are staying in Windy.""I'm goin' to ride for Purdie," he told her. The news struck the merriment from her face. She hesitated as though aboutto speak, and then put on her hat, settling it with a deft touch, stood upgrasped the reins of her pony and was in the saddle before he could dismountto help her."I'm goin' to town too," he suggested.


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She shook her head. "No, no, my friend, but — you may come to see me," shesmiled.Ere he could remonstrate, the pony was racing along the trail. At the first

bend, its rider turned in the saddle, waved gaily, and vanished, leaving thepuncher pondering. Why had she changed when he told her he was to ride forthe C P? The answer was not hard to find — he would be opposed to King

Burdette, and King Burdette was what — to her? He patted the satiny neck ofthe black horse, which, in colour and sheen, matched the hair of the girl whohad just left him."I'm bettin' she stampeded that pony," he said reflectively. "Nig, this yer neck

o' the woods is a heap more dangerous than the governor man let on. Thematrimonial noose is harder to dodge than a ha'r rope, an' we ain't got no timefor foolishness. There's a tangle here to straighten out, an' then ..." The furrow between his eyebrows came into evidence as his thoughts went tothe quest which had sent him — a mere boy — prowling the country like a lone

wolf. Years had been spent on it, and more were to pass ere its fulfilment which has been told in another place.*

* *

The Circle B ranch was a bachelor establishment. Old Man Burdette had losthis wife many years before he met his own untimely end, and thehousekeeping and upbringing of the boys had devolved upon Mandy, anegress who had served the family nearly all her life.

The ranch-house was a pretentious one for the time and place. Two-storeyedbuilt of trimmed logs chinked with clay, it occupied a bench about half-way upthe face of Battle Butte, and was reached by a rough, winding wagon-roadfrom the valley. At the back of the building, the brush and tree-clad groundrose steeply. It was not an ideal location, and Old Burdette never forgavehimself for not having a look at the other end of the valley. It was not untilPurdie arrived and settled on Old Stormy that the firstcorner realized he hadblundered, and this was the beginning of the ill-feeling between the families.On the morning after the burial, Luce entered the big living-room and found

his eldest brother awaiting him."What is it, King?" he asked. "Sim said yu wanted me." The other nodded, and after a short pause, snapped out, "How come yu toshoot Purdie?"

*The Range Robbers, Geo. Newnes, Ltd.


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"I didn't," was the quiet reply.King grinned unpleasantly. "That tale's all very well for town, Luce," he said

"Here yu needn't be afeared to tell the truth.""Which is what I'm doin'," the boy retorted, a shade of heat in his tone."Shucks, we ain't blamin' yu," his brother shrugged. "It was a damn good

riddance, an' if of Purdie goes on the prod it gives us an excuse to show the CP where it gets off; we've owed 'em that ever since they downed Dad — anbefore.""It was never proved they did; an', anyways, the fella who shot Kit was a

cowardly cur," Luce protested warmly. "Yu get this straight, King : if it was the work of a Burdette I'm ashamed o' bein' one, an' I'm through with 'em." The older man's face grew dark with rage. "Takin' that tone, huh?" hesneered. "Well, let me tell yu---" He stopped, a sudden cunning in the fierceeyes. "All right, take yore truck an' clear out — the Burdettes is through with yu

we don't want traitors here," he finished savagely."I ain't that, an' yu know it," the younger man replied. "An' I'm not likely to

raise my hand against my own flesh and blood, but that don't go for the buncho' bar-scourin's yu got ridin' for yu now — toughs that Dad would 'a' quirtedoff the ranch, an' he warn't noways finicky."King ripped out a blistering oath. Until this moment his authority, since his

father's death, had been supreme at the Circle B, and to be defied by the onefrom whom he least expected opposition made him furious."Pull yore freight, pronto, or I'll use a whip on yu," he rasped.

Luce looked at him levelly. "Will yu?" he said quietly. "Not while I've got agun, King; there's a limit to what I'll take, even from yu."Getting no reply, Luce went out, and presently, from the window

overlooking the valley, King watched him ride down the road. A bulky roll atthe cantle of the saddle brought a sneer to the older man's lips."So yo're obeyin' orders, huh?" he muttered. "Well, yu got a lot o' things to

learn yet, an' one of 'em is that it don't pay to cross me." He frowned at athought. "Hell! I must be gettin' old — I nearly told him; that would 'a' been abad break. As it is we've got him tied, an' can ride him till he drops. Didn'tshoot Kit Purdie, eh? Wonder how far that'll get yu when yore own family ain'denying it?"In the hope of gaining information before it became generally known that he

had joined the C P, Sudden again spent the evening in "The Lucky Chance."He was sitting about half-way between the door and the bar, watching a game


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of poker, when Luce Burdette slouched in. Without a word to anyone, the boypaid for a drink and draped himself against the bar, indifferent to theglances — some of them far from friendly — sent in his direction. Almost on hisheels came a party of three, two Mexicans and a half-breed named Ramon who having been "given his time" by Purdie some months before, was nowriding for Slype. These men ranged themselves next to Burdette, ordered

liquor, and began to talk in low tones.Sudden, suspecting that these men had a definite purpose, gave them all his

attention. He saw the vaquero's malicious eyes furtively scanning the solitaryfigure by the bar, and noted that his voice was gradually becoming moredistinct. Presently, in reply to a muttered remark by one of his companions, helaughed aloud."Nan Purdie?" he said derisively. "I tell you somet'ing 'bout her. At ze C P ze

boys 'ave to lock ze bunk'ouse door nights to keep her out." This infamous statement struck the room to an amazed silence, and then the

brooding man at the bar came to life. His left hand gripped the traducer'sshoulder, swinging him round, while his right fist, with fiendish fury, crashedon the fellow's jaw and sent him staggering and clutching to the floor; helooked up to find Burdette's gun covering him."Yu dirty liar," the young man grated. "Eat yore words, pronto, or yu go to

hell right now." The evil black eyes looked up into the flaming blue ones and found onlydeath there; one twitch of the finger aching to press the trigger and the world would know Ramon the vaquero no more. He did not like to back down, but

life was sweet. The half-breed had vanity, but no pride; there is a differenceHe began to mutter."Speak up, yu bastard," Burdette warned. "This is yore last chance.""W'at I say was a lie — I make it up," Ramon called out. "I not know anyt'ing

against Mees Purdie." With a shrug of contempt, Luce holstered his gun and turned back to the barRamon got slowly to his feet, and then, as he saw the jeering expression onmany of the spectators' faces, madness seized him. His hand flashed up, a wicked blade lying along the palm. Ere he could despatch it on its deadlyerrand, however, an iron clasp fell on his wrist, forcing the arm down andround behind his back."Drop it ! " came the curt order. "Or I'll shore bust yore wing."Mouthing Mexican curses, the captive twisted like an eel, but he could not

break that hold, and when his wrist began to nudge his shoulder-blades he


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squealed in agony and the weapon tinkled on the boards."Will some gent kindly open the door?" Sudden requested, and when this had

been done, he forced the helpless half-breed to it, placed a foot in the small ofthe fellow's back, and straightened his leg. As though propelled from a gunthe victim shot over the sidewalk and ploughed into the dust of the street onhis face. Sudden looked at the saloon-keeper.

"Sorry to make a ruckus in yore joint, Magee," he said."Ye done the roight thing, son," the Irishman replied. "I hope ye've bruk his

lyin' neck." The puncher picked up the dropped weapon; it was a short-handled, heavythrowing-knife, a deadly instrument in the hands of an expert. He balanced itfor a moment in his fingers, his eyes on Ramon's companions, who were watching him uneasily.

"I guess that's a bullet-hole by the door there," he said. "Shure it is," smiledthe proprietor. "Not the only wan neither."

Sudden's arm moved, and like a shaft of light itself the blade flashed throughthe air and sank deeply into the wall about half an inch from the target he hadselected. He looked apologetically at his audience."I'm outa practice — ain't throwed a knife for quite a spell," he said

"Allasame, if it had been a fella's throat ..." He went on conversationally. "Anold Piute chief taught me the trick — claimed he'd let the life outa ten menthataway. Dessay he was boastin' some — Injuns mostly do — but he certainlyknew about knives." He turned to the Mexicans. "Yore friend is mebbe waitinfor yu," he suggested meaningly.

They slunk out like dogs who feared the whip, casting curious glances at the weapon in the wall, which they knew was there as a warning to themselves With their disappearance the tension relaxed and interrupted games wereresumed. Luce Burdette came over to the puncher."I'm obliged, but I dunno why yu interfered," he said. "If yo're ridin' for

Purdie, as I hear, he won't thank yu.” "I ain't sold him my soul, an' if I had, Purdie would understand — he's a white

man," the C P foreman said quietly. "Yu must be tired o' life to turn yore backon a snake like that; don't yu know his sort allus carries a sticker? 'Sides, if he'dpulled his gun he'd 'a' got yu, shore thing.""Lot o' grief that would 'a' caused, wouldn't it?" the boy asked bitterly."I dunno," Sudden told him; "but I reckon that with skunks like that around

Miss Purdie needs all her friends."His chance shot hit the mark; this aspect of the matter brought a quick flush


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to Burdette's cheeks. "I hadn't looked at it thataway," he admitted, andpointing to an unoccupied table in a far corner of the room, added, "Can Ihave a word with yu?"For some moments after they were seated the boy was silent, his moody eyes

staring into vacancy. Then, in a low, strained voice, he began to talk:"Just now yu saved my life, an' I expect I didn't seem none too grateful. Well

I wasn't, an' I'm goin' to tell yu why. Pretty near everybody in town figures Ikilled Kit Purdie; some are sayin' it openly, others think it but dasn't say so tilthey know how my brothers are goin' to take it. My refusin' to draw on Chrishas got around, an' is regarded as a confession o' guilt. I wish I'd pulled an' lethim get me.""That ain't no way to talk. What do yore brothers think?" The boy flushed angrily. "They allow I did it," he blurted out.Sudden nodded comprehendingly. "It suits them," he pointed out. "I

understand they've been tryin' to get Purdie to r'ar up for some time."

"I'm done with 'em — when King told me this mornin' to pull my freight fromthe Circle B he said somethin' he can't ever take back," Luce said passionately"Ramon musta knowed 'bout that, or he'd never 'a' had the nerve to frame me Yu shore yu didn't get a blink at the fella who fired the shot?"

"If I had I'd 'a' put a crimp in his getaway.""Yu don't think it was me?""No, an' I told Purdie so."Burdette's face cleared a little. "Thank yu," he said gratefully. "That's two

friends I got."

Sudden fancied he could have named the other, but what he said was, "Whayu aimin' to do?""Stick around an' clear myself," Luce said. "I'll be at the hotel if yu want me

any time. I — I'd like to see yu," he finished with boyish eagerness."I'll be along," the puncher promised. "Mebbe we can help one another.""Shore, but get me right," Luce insisted. "Though the Burdettes have shook

me I'm not roundin' on 'em nohow, but" — he grinned mirthlessly — "I ain'related to their outfit. yu'll have to watch out for those hombres, an' that half-breed, Ramon, is pure pizen. 'Fraid I've fetched yu right up against Ol' Man Trouble."

"Him an' me have met afore, an' yu'll notice I'm still here," the punchersmiled. When the boy had gone, Sudden drifted over to the bar, and Magee pushedforward a bottle, a look of perplexity on his face.


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"Shure I can't foller your play, sorr," he said. "ye're a C P man, an' ye save theloife of a Burdette; that'll puzzle Purdie, I'm thinkin'."Sudden looked at him quizzically. "I start with the C P to-morrow mornin',"

he pointed out, "an' Luce finished with the Circle B to-day. Yes, sir, his familyhas turned him down cold." The landlord whistled. "Odd that," he commented. "The Greaser knew av it

too, or he'd niver 'a' dared raise a hand to a Burdette." He sipped his drinkcontemplatively. "So Luce is at outs wid his brothers, eh? Well, he was allusdifferent to the rest av thim, an' I've seen the Old Man look queerly at him, asif wonderin' how he come to be in the nest. There'll be somethin' back o' hisleavin' the Circle B, shure enough." The puncher nodded, but did not pursue the topic. He liked Magee, and felthat he was straight, but he knew that he must walk warily in Windy for a while.

CHAPTER VI

WHEN the new foreman arrived at the C P ranch on the following morninghe found that the story of his little difficulty with the half-breed had precededhim, two of the outfit having been in town, and heard of, though they had notseen, the incident. Chris Purdie's face was not quite so genial when he greetedhim."I didn't know the Burdettes was friends o' yores," was the oblique way he

approached the subject.

Sudden's look was sardonic. "Did yu get all the story?" he asked."I heard yu saved young Luce's life, an' that was aplenty," retorted the ranch-

owner."Mebbe I did, an' I'm bettin' yu'd 'a' done the same," was the reply, and the

foreman went on to give the details. When he heard of the vile insult offered to his daughter, Purdie's face flamed

with fury."The dirty scum," he began."It was a plain frame-up," Sudden interrupted. "I'd say he was actin' on

orders, an' whoever gave 'em knew Luce had left the Circle B.""Left the Circle B?" the rancher repeated in surprise. "How come?""After the fracas I had a talk with young Burdette, an' he told me he was

through with his brothers; they won't believe that he didn't kill yore son.""An' they're dead right, too, though it's the first time I ever agreed with a


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Burdette," the old man said caustically."Yo're wrong, Purdie," the puncher urged. "I ain't no Methuselah, but I've

met a mort o' men, an' I'll gamble that boy is clean strain. Why should he riskhis life for yore girl's good name?""Dunno, 'less it was to avert suspicion."Sudden shook his head. "He'd have to be a mighty quick thinker, the way it

happened. No, sir, I'm so shore he's straight that in yore place I'd offer him ajob to ride for the C P." The cattleman laughed aloud at this amazing suggestion. "Yu bein' a strangerhereabouts, there's some excuse for yu," he said. "If I did that, folks wouldthink I'd gone plumb loco, an' they'd be right. A Burdette workin' for the C Phuh? He'd be damn useful to them, wouldn't he? Why, it's more'n likely that's what they're playin' for. I ain't fallin' for that foolishness. Now, come along anmeet the men."Sudden followed him to the bunkhouse; he was not convinced, but he

recognized the futility of further argument. The morning meal was over, andthe riders were awaiting orders. There were eight of them present, all youngand they looked a capable crew. Their employer's speech was brief and to thepoint:"This is Jim Green, boys. Yu'll take orders from him in future, all same it wasme."Some of them nodded, others said "Howdy," and all of them studied the new

foreman with narrowed, appraising glances. His eyes too were busy, and heearly decided that none of the looks directed towards him was hostile.

"Where's Bill?" asked the rancher."He went down to the corral," said one. "I'll go fetch him.""He's the daddy o' the outfit, an' the on'y one yu may have trouble with,"

Purdie said, for the foreman's ear only. "Been actin' sorta segundo to Kit, anhe's mebbe got ambitions. I'm leavin' yu to deal with him, yore own way; whenI put a fella in charge I don't interfere."He went out, nodding to an embarrassed outfit, and a foreman who

nonchalantly rolling a smoke, awaited the coming "trouble." For he felt prettysure that the absence of the oldest hand was a premeditated gesture, the firstmove in a plan of protest against his appointment. There was an air ofexpectancy about the waiting men. From outside came a hail :"Hey, Bill, the noo foreman wants to see yu.""Is that so?" a rumbling voice replied. "Which I'm shorely sorry to keep His

Royal 'Ighness waitin'. What's he like, this foreman fella?"


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They could not hear the answer, but the deep voice was not so reticent. "So we gotta be bossed by a boy, huh?" it said.

"Well, Kit warn't no greybeard.""He was the Old Man's son — future owner o' the ranch, which is some

different. How do we know this yer hombre ain't been planted on us by theCircle B? He may've pulled the wool over Purdie's eyes, but he's gotta talk

straight to me, yu betcha. Just yu watch yore Uncle Bill."He swaggered through the bunkhouse door, and the new foreman's eyes

twinkled when they rested on the short, sturdy figure, with its broad shoulderslong arms, and slightly-bowed legs, of this man he might have trouble with The amusement was only momentary, and his face was gravity itself when henodded to the newcomer. None of the outfit noticed that in removing hiscigarette his fingers had rested for an instant on his lips; their attention wascentred on their companion. What had come over him they could not imaginebut at the sight of the new foreman the belligerent frown had vanished, and

his craggy, clean-shaven features expressed only goggling amazement."Yu wantin' me?" he had growled on entering, and straightway become

dumb, one hand pushing back his big hat and revealing the straggly wisps ofhair beneath."Glad to meet you, Mister…?" The foreman paused. "Yago — Bill Yago," the

man replied like one in a dream."Shore," the newcomer nodded. "Purdie said yu would put me wise. Now, yu

tell the boys what needs doin' today, an' then yu an' me'll take a look at therange."

"I'm a-watchin' yu, Uncle," whispered a voice. Yago whirled round. "Yu, Curly, go get some wire an' mend the fence round

The Sump," he ordered. "I had to pull two critters out'n her yestiddy." The joker's face dropped in dismay; a coil of barbed wire is awkward tohandle on foot; on horseback it becomes a pest; moreover, it was somedistance to the quagmire, and if there is anything a cowboy thoroughly detestsit is making or mending a fence."Aw, Bill…" the victim began."Beat it," Yago snapped, and proceeded to apportion work to the rest of the

outfit. Ten minutes later he and the new foreman were riding up the slope at theback of the ranch. Not until they were hidden by the pines did either of themspeak, and then Yago turned to his companion."Jim, I'm almighty glad to see yu, but what in thunderation brung yu to these


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parts?" he asked.Sudden's reply was incomplete."As for bein' glad, yu looked more like yu'd been struck by lightnin'," he

smiled. "There's me, shiverin' in my shoes, waitin' for a big stiff to come ancrawl my hump, an' in sifts a ornery little runt like yu." Yago's face creased up. "I shore declared war, didn't I?" he grinned, and then

another aspect of the affair occurred to him. "Say, Jim, yu'll have to let me tellthe boys who yu are.""Yu breathe a word o' that an' I'll take yu to pieces an' put yu together again

all wrong," the foreman threatened."But I gotta explain," the little man protested. "Hell's bells, Jim, they'll laugh

the life out'n me.""Yu can say I'm an old friend, an' seem' yu'll be my segundo, I reckon they'll

let yu off light," Sudden conceded."Can't I just mention how yu stood up the posse that time an' kept my neck

out of a noose?" Bill pleaded."Yu — can — not," was the decided answer. "Time yu forgot it yoreself. Yu an

me rode the same range back in Texas, an' so yu let me off that callin' over yupromised. Sabe?""Awright," Yago said resignedly. "Yu ain't told me why yu come here.""For the same reason yu did, yu of pirut. The climate down south was gettin

hotter an' hotter, an' my medical man advised a change.""Yu ain't on the dodge, Jim, are yu?" Bill asked anxiously. "Yu see, I heard o

yu from time to time."

Sudden's face grew grim. "I'll bet yu did — an' nothin' good," he said bitterly"Bill, I'm shorely the baddest an' cleverest man in the south-west; I can rob abank with one hand an', at the same time, hold up a citizen two hundred milesaway with the other. I expect they are still fatherin' felonies on me right now." Yago nodded understandingly; he knew how it was. Though his own past hadbeen fairly hectic, he was credited with crimes he had not been guilty of. In the West, if the dog got a bad name he was hanged — if they could catch him. It was Sudden who broke the silence.

"D'yu figure Luce Burdette shot young Purdie?""Nope," was the instant reply. "Luce ain't like the rest of 'em — don't know

how he come to be in Ol' Burdette's litter a-tall. More likely one o' the otherboys, or

[strange oliver]sudden

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