The Best Western Novels of William MacLeod Raine. William MacLeod Raine

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      "All right. Come right along. Better leave your gun behind," Keller called back.

      Pesky waddled forward—a short, thick-set, bow-legged man in chaps, spurs, flannel shirt, and white sombrero. When he took off this last, as he did now, it revealed a head bald as a billiard ball.

      "How're they coming?" he inquired genially of the besieged man, as he rounded the rock barricade.

      Larrabie's steel eyes relaxed to a hint of a friendly smile. He knew this type of man like a brother.

      "Fine and dandy here. Hope you're well yourself, seh."

      "Tol'able. Buck's up on his ear, o' course. Can't blame him, can you? Most any man would, with that kind of a pill sent to his address so sudden by special delivery. Wasn't that some inconsiderate of you, Mr. Keller?"

      "I thought I explained it was another party did that."

      Pesky rolled a cigarette and lit it.

      "Right sure of that, are you? Wouldn't mind my taking a look at that gun of yours? You see, if it happens to be what you said it was, that kinder lets you out."

      Keller handed over the gun promptly. The cow-puncher broke it, extracted a shell, and with his knife picked out the wad. Into his palm rolled a dozen buckshot.

      "Good enough! I told Buck he was barking up the wrong tree. Now, I'll go back and have a powwow with him. I reckon you'll be willing to surrender on guarantee of a square deal?"

      "Sure—that's all I ask. I never met your friend—didn't know who he was from Adam. I ain't got any option to shoot all the red-haided men I meet. No, sir! You've followed a cross trail."

      "Looks like. Still, it's blamed funny." Pesky scratched his shining poll, and looked shrewdly at the other. "We certainly ran Mr. Bushwhacker into the cañon. I'd swear to that. We was right on his heels, though we couldn't see him very well. But he either come in here or a hole in the ground swallowed him."

      He waited tentatively for an answer, but none came other than the white-toothed smile that met him blandly.

      "I reckon you know more than you aim to tell, Mr. Keller," continued Pesky. "Don't you figure it's up to you, if we let you out of this thing, to whack up any information you've got? The kind of reptile that kills from ambush don't deserve any consideration."

      Half an hour ago, the other would have agreed with him. The man that shot his enemy from cover was a coyote—nothing less. But about that brown slip of a creature, who had for three minutes crossed his orbit, he wanted to reserve judgment.

      "I expect I haven't got a thing to tell you that would help any," he drawled, his eye full on that of the cowpuncher.

      Pesky threw away his cigarette. "All right. You're the doctor. I'll amble back, and report to the boss."

      He did so, with the result that a truce was arranged.

      Keller gave up his post of vantage, and came forward to surrender.

      Weaver met him with a hard, wintry eye. "Understand, I don't concede your innocence. You're my prisoner, and, by God, if I get any more proof of your guilt, you've got to stand the gaff."

      The other nodded quietly, meeting him eye to eye. Nor did his gaze fall, though the big cattleman was the most masterful man on the range. Keller was as easy and unperturbed as when he had been holding half a dozen irate men at bay.

      "No kick coming here. But, if it's just the same to you, I'll ask you to get the proof first and hang me afterward."

      "If you're homesteading, where's your place?"

      "Back in the hills, close to the headwaters of Salt Creek."

      "Huh! You'll make that good before I get through with you. And I want to tell you this, too, Mr. Keller. It doesn't make any hit with me that you're one of those thieving nesters. Moreover, there's another charge against you. In the Malpais country we hang rustlers. The boys claim to have you cinched. We'll see."

      "Who's that with Curly?" Pesky called out. "By Moses, it's a woman!"

      "It is the Sanderson girl," Weaver said in surprise.

      Keller swung round as if worked by a spring. The cow-puncher had told the truth. Curly's companion was not only a woman, but the woman—the same slim, tanned creature who had flashed past him on a wild race for safety, only a few minutes earlier.

      All eyes were focused upon her. Weaver waited for her to speak. Instead, Curly took up the word. He was smiling broadly, quite unaware of the mine he was firing.

      "I found this young lady up on the rock rim. Since we were rounding up, I thought I'd bring her down."

      "Good enough. Miss Sanderson, you've been where you could see if anyone passed into the cañon. How about it? Anybody go up in last ten minutes?"

      Phyllis moistened her dry lips and looked at the prisoner. "No," she answered reluctantly.

      Weaver wheeled on Keller, his eyes hard as jade. "That ties the rope round your neck, my man."

      "No," Phyllis cried. "He didn't do it."

      The cattleman's stone wall eyes were on her now.

      "Didn't? How do you know he didn't?"

      "Because I—I passed him here as I rode up a few minutes ago."

      "So you rode up a few minutes ago." Buck's lids narrowed. "And he was here, was he? Ever meet Mr. Keller before?"

      "Yes."

      "When? Speak up. Mind, no lying."

      This, struck the first spark of spirit from her. The deep eyes flashed. "I'm not in the habit of lying, sir."

      "Then answer my question."

      "I've met him at the office when he came for his mail. And the boys arrested him by mistake for a rustler. I saw him when they brought him in."

      "By mistake. How do you know it was by mistake?"

      "It was I accused him. But I did it because I was angry at him."

      "You accused an innocent man of rustling because you were sore at him. You're ce'tainly a pleasant young lady, Miss Sanderson."

      Her look flashed defiance at him, but she said nothing. In her slim erectness was a touch of feminine ferocity that gave him another idea.

      "So you just rode into the cañon, did you?"

      "Yes."

      "Meet up with anybody in the valley before you came in?"

      "No."

      His eyes were like steel drills. They never left her. "Quite sure?"

      "Yes."

      "What were you doing there?"

      She had no answer ready. Her wild look went round in search of СКАЧАТЬ