The Greatest Westerns of Ernest Haycox. Ernest Haycox

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      "Done any exploring down there?" Denver asked.

      "I got boys posted along the ridge here, but nobody's scouted that bowl. I was afraid of losin' 'em, and I didn't want to bring on no premature fightin'. They prob'ly got the brush speckled with gents."

      "Good enough. Munn, where are you? Drift along and collect the bunch right here. I'm going down. Need another man."

      "Right beside yuh," announced Bonnet.

      Denver paused long enough to issue his orders. "If you fellows hear one shot, come along. If you hear more than one shot, also come along, but don't waste any time. Otherwise wait for us."

      He turned from the ridge. Bonnet muttered. "A little to yore left—there's a good way of gettin' below." Accordingly, Denver slipped away from the main party, let himself down what appeared to be a convenient alley, and immediately was plunged into a black and solitary world. The avenue of approach shot one way and another, drifting from high levels to water holes and back again. Perceptibly the outlaw camp fire brightened and the fog thinned. Bonnet breathed in his ear. "This is one of the two- three entries to the bowl. They'd be apt to have it guarded." Denver accepted the warning and abandoned the easy travel. Curling around the trees, he circled the beacon fire until he judged he had completed an approximate quarter turn. Bonnet's wind rose and fell asthmatically; then Denver plunged forward in long and staggered spurts. A thick rampart of trees shut out the gleam of the fire. He halted once more, waiting for Bonnet to catch up. Bonnet murmured, "Not far now," and Denver cut straight through the trees to find himself on the smooth rim of the bowl. Fifty yards off the camp blaze shot up with a brilliant cascade of sparks. A man threw an armful of wood on it and quickly retreated to outer darkness.

      That move evoked a sudden suspicion in Denver's head. Where were the horses and the men of Redmain's outfit? Certainly not anywhere along this particular angle of the bowl. He touched Bonnet's arm and began a swift march around the rim. He saw a man crouching beside a horse. By degrees he came nearer. The man's cigarette tip made a fitful glow; the horse stirred. For a long time Denver kept his place, trying to penetrate the gloom behind that man. But he saw nothing. To all intents and purposes that fellow was a solitary watcher. And as the dragging minutes passed Denver definitely accepted the belief. Redmain had posted a decoy and fled.

      There was but one conclusion to draw. Redmain somehow had caught wind of the forces moving against him and was now playing his own particular game under the black cloak of the night. Denver stared at the fire guard. He touched Bonnet on the knee and whispered, "Stay here." Curving with the tree line, he arrived in the rear of the outlaw. A hundred feet intervened. Stepping ahead in long, springing strides he reached the horse at the moment it jerked up. The man sprang to his feet and grunted. "Who's that?" Denver's gun leveled against him.

      "Snap your elbows."

      The outlaw swayed as if calling on his nerve. But the fighting moment went winging by. He was lost, and he knew it. His hands rose.

      "Step this way," grunted Denver. "Turn around. Stand fast." His free hand shot out and ripped the man's gun from its holster. He tucked it behind his own belt. The outlaw jeered him with a sudden revival of spirit.

      "A hell of a lot of good this'll do yuh."

      "You're lucky to be out of what's comin'. Anybody else around here?"

      "Think I'd tell if they was?" growled the outlaw.

      "Just a catamount of wheels, ain't you," reflected Denver. "Walk over to the fire where I can see you."

      The outlaw obeyed. He had a strange face, and Denver commented on it. "Another slick-eared gun fanner from other parts. Redmain must have a young army."

      "Big enough to whip the tar outa you, once ever yuh tackle it," stated the outlaw coolly.

      "We'll have a chance to find out soon enough," said Denver. "But you'll have no part in the fun."

      "The Sundown jail won't hold me," challenged the outlaw.

      "Your ticket don't read that far," was Denver's laconic answer. This stopped the outlaw dead. His teeth clicked together, СКАЧАТЬ