Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1031) (1899 12)
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’ ‘ Wu, December, 1899. 00 a Year. 10 Cents a Copy. $1 To. ie R, J aT THE New York, N. Y., Post Orrice. * vA te 7 = = £ vas = = = ~ sl a © . rey = w tO °F BADGER, LLIVAN, PROPRIETOR), Street, New York, ES e np CLASS MATTER (JAMES SU earl HEADLONG HUGH, J. IVE ENTERED AS i : VLE : : The Man B BY JAMES SULLIVAN. Published Every Month 1031. RIGHT
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Headlong Hu oh, the Man-to-T ie-To. Headlong Hugh, The MAN-TO-TIE-TO; | OR, The Hunted Miner's Death Grapple. BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR. CHAPTER I. AN UGLY BIT OF WORK. “ You’re talking foolishly, Miles.” “You lie!” “ What?” “That’s it. Better a fool, though, than a cur, Harry Marqueduc. And if you don’t know what that spells, shall I tell you?” “Come, come, what’s got into you, old man? Are you trying to pick a quarrel with me, Rockweed?” “A fool job, isn’t it? Bah!” with a short, insulting laugh. “ Why, I might slap your ears up to a peak and you wouldn’t even—so!” The speaker lurched forward, aiming a blow to match his words, only to have wrist caught in a firm grip, which shoved both arm and owner aside for the mo- ment. A hot flush of anger darkened the handsome face of Harry Marqueduc, but he offered no stroke in return, speaking reprovingly: “Steady, Miles!’ You’re off your level this evening, and you’ll be sorry for it all in the morning. Go home and try to sleep it off.” “Sleep what off?” “You’ve been drinking too much, old fellow.” “You lie! Haven’t touched a drop— or, if I have, what’s that to you? It isn’t to drown my sorrow at being jilted by—” “Careful, Rockweed!” “You know it, too! And if you wasn’t all cur you’d play half-way white and spare the girl from—” “Will you be quiet, I say?” But, the liquor-heated young man flung off the hand which sought to restrain him, making a defiant gesture even as he broke forth in tones which carried to a still greater distance and promised to bring eye- as well as ear-witnesses upon the scene. The sun had gone down behind the western hills, and twilight was rapidly deepening into night there in the un- paved streets of Hardpan; but there was light sufficient for notes to be taken where a bit of sport seemed brewing for the lovers of “scrap and scrimmage.” “A cur you are, Harry Marquedue, and I’m just the man to prove it! There isn’t another man, black, white, or yellow, in all this region who’d play dog in the manger as you are doing with—” ‘Will you simmer, I say?” “With Molly Fickeson, coyote that you are!” harshly cried Rockweed, again foiling the hand which strove to close his rash lips. “She tired of you long ago. Any man in Hardpan could tell you as much. But you—pah! You never could take a hint without it took the shape of a kick, Harry Marqueduc.” “Look out, I warn you, Miles Rock- weed!” “Pooh! Look out, you, if it comes to that! And one thing; don’t try to crowd in where you’re not wanted, this evening of all, Harry Marqueduc. I’m going— Milly expects me for—” “Are you crazy, as well as drunken?” came the angry interruption. “Hatha! Does it bite ye so deep, Har- ry? Does it smart ye to think that I’m cutting in ahead of ye like—Why, you poor dunce!” with a tone of contemptu- ous pity, as he steadied himself in front of his partner in the Homestake Mine. * Milly asked me to call, and before I leave we'll be next thing to one; engaged, for a fact!” “ You surely are crazy!” | the truth far enough to say—you’re a | “Not so crazy but what I can speak | to be, liar by the watch, Harry Marqueduc! Milly wants to shake you for a better man; and if you were half-way white you'd take the hint and rack out.” So far Marqueduc had held his natur- ally fiery temper under control with an iron will, although nearly every sentence crossing those whisky-fumed lips stung him to the quick. But, there is a limit to everything, and his stock of patience was rapidly grow- ing exhausted. “Stop right here, I tell you!” he said, in low but stern tones. “I can make allowance for a man in your condition, Rockweed, but when you persist in say- ing—” “What is gospel truth: that sweet Milly wouldn’t give my little finger for your whole carcass! That I’ll kiss her until—’” “Stop, I say!” * Just make me, will you? Milly is my girl, and loves me more in—” “That’s enough! Drunk or not, ’ll call you liar, Miles Rockweed!” So far the elder member of the Home- stake firm had spoken and acted in ugly mockery, yet without betraying anything like positive anger or hatred; but all was changed now. A-seowl distorted his heated visage, and with a savage impreeation he dashed clenched fist full at the unusually~ pale face of his partner. Marqueduc warded off the blow with a forearm, at the same time ducking head aside and falling back a pace, speaking quickly: “Drop it, Miles! You don’t know what you’re doing, and so—” “Call me liar, will ye? What I’m doing, is it? Ill pound the whole face off 0’ you, you cur!” Another blow was similarly wasted, but the effort helped to anger “the re- treating man, and there was a thinly veiled menace in what came next. “Let up, Rockweed, or you'll be sorry for all this. You’re drunk: if I didn’t know that much, I’d—will you let up, I say?” “Make me—why don’t you make me, then?” “Tf I wanted to fight—” “Pah! You wouldn’t fight a sick kit- ten, Harry Marqueduc!” “ You’re not fit to fight, Miles. If you were—but, go ’way, I tell you, man! You’re drunk—too drunk for any decent man to fight with.” “And you’re a low-lived cur and cow- ard, Marquedue!”’ Again the whisky-flushed miner crowd- ed forward, striking viciously as he came with right hand and left, growing all the more enraged because his partner still retreated, doing nothing more than dodge or ward off the blows aimed at his head and face. But, this could not last long. One foot caught against a projecting stone, throwing its owner off balance for a moment: long enough for Rockweed to fairly land one of his heavy blows, hard knuckles breaking skin and stain- ing that temple with red. This proved to be the final provocation, and with an angry cry Marqueduc re- turned the blow; then the two men came together, in a desperate grapple just where moonlight and shadow blended. There was no thought of retreat, now; no checking memory of fraternal aifec- tion; naught save vicious anger and fierce desire to defeat. Rack and forth the antagonists swayed, turning rapidly as they wrestled, paying no heed to the startled cries which were coming from more quarters than one, as curious eyes at length caught sight of the brutal “ fun.” So far as muscular powers went, the twain were admirably matched, and there is no telling: just how the strug- gle would have terminated had the Home- stake pards been permitted to fight it out as they began; but, that was not te Fae ES os Sue EE Borg cs Ree ete eR WEY ootrtocat SG ies dem deat ad RN Peano, FOI 2 Ua ae haba Sort) hae aE a's Raa deen AS Sy I A wild, fieree cry burst from the lips of Miles Rockweed as his tensely strained muscles gave way all at once, the two men falling to earth in an awk- ward heap. Marqueduc swiftly broke away from those unnerved arms, staggering back and dashing the hair from over his eyes, ex- pecting nothing else than that his liquor- crazed partner would scramble up to re- new his assault. Instead, Rockweed lay as he had fallen, struggling feebly aS a man may when suddenly disabled, or— “Hellow, hyar!” cried a harsh voice, as a burly fellow came hurrying to the spot. ‘‘ What’s the racket, aryhow, crit- ter? Who is—you, Harry?” “Yes. He made me. I didn’t want to fight, for 1 knew he was—you know you’re drunk, Miles!” Marqueduc was hardly aware of his own words, so intensely had he been stirred up by this wholly unexpected trouble. And, as if to make a bad mat- ter far worse, just then he caught sight of a well-known face: that of Seneca Spottsround, guardian of the girl whose name had been so outrageously brought forward by Miles Rockweed. “ What’s all this?” briskly spoke the mining magnate, as he came forward with a bustle, a single important unit in what was rapidly growing to be a crowd. “T hope there hasn’t been—who’s hurt?” “T had to do it, sir,” huskily spoke Marquedue, trying to right his disor- dered garments with nervous hands. “He forced it upon me, although I tried my level best to get away without hurt- ing the poor fellow.” “A lie—oh!”’ A sharp, gasping cry as of intense agony came from the prostrate man, but rallying, Rockweed partly raised his body on one arm, his other hand pointing un- steadily toward Marqueduce, as he fiercely, cried further: ** Lies—all lies! thought—you devil! —hold him! He’s pieces!” Harry Marquedue recoiled with a gasp- ing breath at this bewildering accusa- tion; but, even then he had no idea of the actual truth. He thought it but the wild raving of a liquor-bemused wretch. There were others present, now, with cooler wits or less excitement, and from among those who flocked closer around the principals in that brief-lived struggle, one clear voice made itself heard above the rest: “Fetch a light, somebody! There's been ugly work—mighty ugly work go- ing on here, I’m dubious!” . “He cut me!” repeated Rockweed, his voice sounding strange and unnatural in the ears of his partner. “I never thought—stabbed me—like a dog!” “T didn’t mean—I tried to get away, but he wouldn’t let me!” “A light—fetch a light, somebody!” still more sharply repeated Seneca Spottsround, now kneeling near the pros- trate figure; for, like one at the end of’ his strength, Miles Rockweed had sunk back, groaning hollowly. Ugly mutterings were beginning to make themselves heard among the grow- ing crowd, and some words were let fall which penetrated the half-stupor which had come upon the younger partner in the Homestake: words which brought a rush of blood to his face and an angry glow into ais eyes for the moment, Murder? He do murder, and that upon his friend, his almost brother? “Tt’s a lie—all a lie!” fiercely cried Marqueduc, as he cleared a space around himself, then moved toward that part- ner, “I never hurt Miles. I only stopped him from hurting me. I knew he was too drunk to mean all he said, and so— speak up, old man! I never hurt you, did I, Miles, lad?” Just then a lantern was hastily brought upon the scene, its yellow rays falling over all, showing Miles Rockweed strug- gling to a sitting posture, one trembling He cut me! I never I’m killed—and you cut me—all to— ae
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hand rising to point toward Harry Mar- queduc, as he repeated with husky fierce- ness: “You stabbed me—in the back! You murdered me—like a dog! I swear you— hang him—devil!” He fell back, screaming aloud in agony, and that light shone upon a knife-hilt protruding from the young miner’s back! CHAPTER II. CHARGED WITH MURDER MOST FOU An ominous silence fell over that gath- ered group, men shrinking involuntarily from the one who stood charged with murder most foul, For few who saw, then, could doubt that murder had been done, As poor Miles Rockweed lay, gasping and moaning, the lantern-rays showed all eyes how surely the deadly weapon had been planted; scarcely an inch to the left of the spinal column, almost in the center of that broad, muscular back; driven so surely home. that the brass guard was hidden by the cloth it pressed against, All around was blood; ominous. ; Only a strong arm and sure hand could have driven that blade of steel so certainly home to the seat of life! Harry Marqueduc stood like one half- paralyzed; shivering slightly, but other- wise deprived of the power) of motion for the moment, staring at his wounded partner, seeing yet not able fairly to comprehend. Around them were pale faces and shrinking forms, while even Seneca Spottsround, usually so cool and com- posed that naught outside of his own life could stir or shake him, now shrunk back from ‘the wounded miner, to gaze in half-doubt, half-horror into the face of the other partner. Only a brief pause. Just long enough for an ordinary breath to cover, Then— Again those ugly mutterings made themselves heard, this time shaping into words, the grim purport of which could not be mistaken, even by one so com- pletely dazed as Harry Marqueduc ap- peared to be. “Stabbed in the back!” “Never give the pore lad ary ghost o’ show!” “Tt’s jest bloody, murder; plum bloody murder, mates!” ‘An’ the law’ll never tech him, nuth- er!” “Onles it’s lynch-law!” Those words seemed to give the right cue, for a half-score voices caught at the sound and lifted it higher, clearer, more fiercely menacing, until at least one-half of all those congregated were erying aloud for a noosed rope and a speedy hanging! At first Harry Marqueduc glanced from man to man with eyes in which a hunted light was growing, half-shrink- ing from those ugly sounds; but then, as the cry for human blood in exchange for that which had already been shed grew louder and more vicious, he sprang into life and action, breaking the strange spell which the sight of that blood-sur- rounded knife had cast upon him. With a choking cry he sunk upon his knees by, the side of his disabled part- ner, catching one of those clammy-feel- ing hands between his own with feverish pressure as he huskily spoke: *"T never hurt you, lad! I never did | that; you know I didn’t, Miles!” A husky groan; a brief glance up | toward that ghastly pale face; then the} hand was jerked away, as in unrelent- ing hatred. Marqueduc shrank back as from a blow in the face. But, rallying, he renewed his broken-toned plea, for the moment seemingly unaware of those ugly cries which assailed all ears save his own; eries which surely, presaged another tragedy, fully as ugly, if a bit less mys- terious, than that which had so recently taken, place. red, ghastly, ee nr ee Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. 3 “JT didn’t—you know I couldn’t hurt|ing tumult, a muscular fellow sprang you—like that, Milesy, old boy? I never —tell ’em all I never did it, pardy! They’re saying—just as though ’twas in me to harm you—like this! Tell ’em I never hurt you, Rockweed!” Another gurgling moan, then, as though stirred by the piteous appeal which was being made, Miles Rockweed partly turned, and as Harry lent him eagerly swift support, he pressed a hand to his saturated clothes, then lifted it with a swiftly savage nerve, branding that pale face with scarlet as he cried aloud: “You stabbed me—in the back— curse you, Harry Marqueduc!” Like one stung in the eyes by some poisonous reptile the one thus bitterly branded shrunk quickly away with a muffled cry, while Rockweed, no longer supported by. the arms of his younger partner, fell heavily back to blood- stained earth like a dead man. “It’s bloody murder, lads; and what does that call for?” demanded a deep- toned voice after a moment’s silence. Seneca Spottsround rose to his feet from where he had crouched through all this, flinging up a hand as though to command silence, then speaking sharply: “Go for help, some of you fellows. Find a doctor and fetch him—ha! Brans- combe, you’re just the man most needed right here!”’ with an echo as of joy at sight of a tall, gaunt figure coming toward the spot. “What’s wrong? Who is it? Make 17? way, please, gentlemen!’ spoke the man of medicine, as he gained the outer edge of the crowd. All present knew the doctor, and an opening appeared as by magic, permit- ting the physician to win the side of the wounded miner without further trouble. “Do your level best, Branscombe,” muttered Spottsround, in an aside, which was probably, louder-toned than he in- tended. “It may mean two lives instead of one if you can save the poor lad!” “All right. Don’t crowd. Give me room,” curtly responded the man of med- icine, falling to work by the uncertain glow of the none too clean lantern. Not until then did Harry Marqueduc make a move, so utter was the stupe- faction into which that fierce denuncia- tion had cast him; but now, as though eager to aid the doctor, he started for- ward, only to be checked by a heavy hand falling upon an arm and turning him partly around, A burly, low-browed fellow stood there with grim show of teeth as Marqueduc made low cry of recognition. “What do you want, Carswell?” “Jest to drap a hint that ye don’t want to try ary break fer tall timber, pardner,” was the coarse-toned answer. “It’s bloody murder, from the looks of it all, an’ ef you cain’t el’ar your han’s, then—why did ye cut him, aryway,?” “T never—” “He swore to it, an’ thar’s his blood a-brandin’ of ye right now!” “T never—curse you! WHands off!” cried Marqueduc, savagely, now driven past all prudence by the horrible coils which seemed closing so surely about him. With half-mad fury he dashed a hard- clenched fist full into that low-browed face, sending the burly citizen reeling dizzily, back into the startled crowd, then whipping forth a brace of revolyers from the belt which girded his middle, Harry waved all away, crying aloud: “ Back—stand back, I tell ye, one and all! I’m guiltless—I never harmed so much as a hair of yonder poor lad’s head, and I’ll not yield to a dog’s death! Back, I say! ‘Crowd me now, and I'll shoot—and shoot to kill!” Those in his immediate front recoiled a bit, for Marqueduc looked like,one half- erazed by now, and those fiercely brand- ished weapons held more deaths than one if the worst should come. Seneca Spottsround flung up a hand as though in protest, but ere he could make | self felt. SS Ne | forward in the rear, striking heavily as he came, sending the Homestake owner blindly forward upon his face in the dust. Savage cries and curses burst forth in spreading storm at this, and those who had shrunk and shivered before those black muzzles, were now only too eager to crowd forward and fall upon th3 stricken miner. But Seneca Spottsround acted eyen more swiftly,-and he it was who stood astride that briefly unconscious man, waving back the ugly crowd and speak- ing in shrilly commanding tones: “Steady, friends! Hold hard, I beg of ye, one and all!” “Hang him! Lynch the bloody cuss! Kill him as he butchered poor Rock- weed!” A score of cries, similar in purport, rang forth upon the evening air, but Spotts- round was undaunted. He stcoped to secure those revolvers, rising again with weapons in plain view, while adding: “Wait, I tell you, gentlemen! Al- though it looks mighty black for Mar= queduc, still there may be some mis- take. He says he never cut poor Rock- weed—” “Who did cut him, then?” “That's what we want to find out, Beebe. ._Miles may have fallen upon his own knife, and so—” “That’s in his own belt, as you can see for yourself, sir,’ sharply cut in an- other of the gathering, pointing toward the wounded man, where the lantern- light. shone upon a metal-bound hilt recognized by all. Mr. Spottsround seemed taken aback by this awkward fact, but quickly ral- lied, going on to say: “Well, if not that way, then somé other. I can’t make it seem right that Marquedue would commit such a horri- ble deed, even in anger, and so I ask you: wait until we cam look deeper into the matter.” “And so let him escape altogéther, is It?”’ demanded the fellow with bulldog face and jaws. Just then Marqueduc began to stir, re- covering from the heavy blow which laid him low; and before speaking further, Mr. Spottsround aided the accused to arise, lending him a strong arm in sup- port while facing the threatening crowd. ‘He can’t escape while the whole town is on guard, and for our own credit we can’t afford to act too hastily. Give him time; wait until poor Miles can rally strength sufficient to tell the whole story of how it happened, and then—What is it, Branscombe?” Seneca Spottsround turned quickly in that direction, for the doctor was rising to his feet, leaving the young miner lying there in his own blood. “ He'll never do that, Mr. Spottsround,” soberly spoke the doctor. “How?” “Because he’s already past speaking, and will never—” “Dead? Surely not—not dead?” harshly cried the mining magnate. The doctor’s reply, if any was made, was drowned by the fierce cries which burst from the angered crowd, as it surged forward, checked only by the re- volvers which Spottsround leveled, and over which he cried out: “Back, or I’ll harvest a full crop of dead men!” CHAPTER II. AN UNLOOKED-FOR CHAMPION. That dangerous rush was checked, if only. briefly, and raising his tones until his voice rang forth clear and distinct above the other sounds, Seneca Spotts- round called for backing from all lovers of law and order. “It is justice we want, not misrule or anarchy!” he cried, in fine indignation, as a more friendly movement made it- “Will one sort of murder his voice fairly heard above the grow-j make amends for qnother assassination?
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4 Will hanging this Rockweed back to lite?” ““Mebbe not, but it’ll keep him from butcherin’ ’nother pore critter, aryway,” Bavagely growled Carswell, yet plainly fearing to head a rush while those men- acing muzzles were so prominent. > “ Prove it, first!” cried a young fellow with red hair and neat garments, as he pushed through the gathering to join ac- cused and champion. “I’m with you, dad, from start to finish.” ‘** Make way, there, please,” commanded the elder Spottsround, linking an arm @hrough that of the accused without putting away his gun. “To the lock-up! ‘All men who like a fair deal will rally to us, now!” “ They’re gwine to run him out o’ camp afore—” “You lie, Ginger Chump!” sternly in- terrupted the elder guard. “All I ask for is this: prove Marqueduc. guilty of atabbing Rockweed—’” “ Didn’t he sw’ar to that same, then?” _ “Faith, an’ ’tis I that heard him say that same, thin!” “Tf guilty, he shall be punished to the full extent of the law. I will be the first man to tail on to the rope when proven. But until then I say—to the lock-up, lads!” And so it was. That voice seemed a magic spell so far as a goodly proportion of the crowd was concerned, and, forming a compact body around the accused, he was hurried off and away, only to halt again when fairly within the four rude walls of the “ City Jug,”" himself too intensely agitated for ooherént speech, it seemed. Marqueduc essayed to thank Seneca Spottsround for his timely aid, but was cut short almost harshly. “Wait. What I’ve done was not so much for your sake as for that of de- cency, of law, of order. I am not decid- man fetch poor Headlong Hugh, ing as tn your guilt or your innocence—” | “T never—as God bears witness, I never stabbed poor Miles!” “Pray that you may be able to con- vince others of that, sir, for if not—” Mr. Spottsround turned away with his sentence unfinished, but there was no room left for doubting his full meaning. | ! Arrangements were quickly made for | an armed guard until something definite was known, then Mr. Spottsround left the rudely built jail and hurried away to the scene of the tragedy; there to find | still excited citizens, whose first eager words made known to him that Miles Rockweed still lived! “T thought him dead when I spoks,” explained Dr. Branscombe, in lowered tones, as the wealthy mine-owner gained his side. ‘ He still lives, but—” “There is hope, then?” “Of course, since breath lingers,” mak- ing a significant gesture as he added: “Don’t bank too high on that, though!” “Can he bear removal? If so, there is my house, which is—” “Too far. The hotel must serve. He may live through it, but the chances are ‘ all against him, let us do what we may.” Mr. Spottsround was not listening, just then. He turned to the deeply interested crowd and spoke rapidly, bidding some carry the news to the hotel, in order that a room might be prepared for the luckless fellow, while others procured means of conveying him. Now, as before, obedience was prompt, yet some aniong the gathering showed | symptoms of dislike, if not of actual hos- tility. To do all plain justice, however, these ugly feelings seemed inspired by Harry Marqueduc rather than his defender, judging from the words and broken sen- tences which could be caught as they flew from side to side. Then. while the wounded miner was heing prepared for removal, Seneca Spottsround made a brief speech, dur- ing which he explained his recent artion | with all candor. While denouncing lynch-law as but a| sneer on face. @ingle degree better than cold-blooded | since that apple-tree was robbed? A girl i raise a hand to hinder such punishment after this awful crime had been fairly and squarely proven upon the accused. * But until then, I’ll fight for his life as surely as I would for my own! I'll die before the door of his prison rather than permit another assassination! ” “Whar is he, then?” “In the calaboose, under armed guard. He’ll be safe there. You can’t deny that, John. Safe there, to go free if innocent, to pay, the full penalty in case this foul deed is surely fastened upon him!” Little by little the savage thirst for human blood was dying out. Bit by bit those ominous growls were silenced, and by the time all arrange- ments were made for removing poor Rockweed to his hotel, the excited crowd had become fairly amenable to calm rea- son. No one man contributed as much to this change*as did Seneca Spottsround, although other voices took the matter up where he left off. But they were plainly inspired by the mining magnate, and served but as his echo for the moment. Contrary, to expectations, Miles Rock- weed bore the pains of removal remark- ably well, and so far from being dead when shifted to the bed prepared for him at the hotel, he could give a fairly hearty curse against the treacherous hand which had brought him so miserably low. As a’ man might who longed to fairly clear a personal friend, Mr. Spottsround questioned the wounded man; but all efforts to shake that first charge were of no avail. “He cut me! I swear Harry Marque- duc—oh, he cut me—all to pieces!” Then Dr. Branscombe exercised his prerogative, clearing the little chamber of all save his chosen assistants, closing and locking the door upon all others. It had been many a long day since Hardpan felt so deeply stirred up over any single event as this, and there seemed but the one topic of conversation: the quarrel between the. Homestake partners. It promised to be a regular bonanza for the saloons. Men can talk so much more readily with their whistles damp- ened! The Arcade was no exception to the general rule, and Big Sandy was kept “on the jump” in order not to neglect any of his patrons, one and all of whom were discussing the cutting scrape. Prominent among those patrons was the retired prize-fighter, Benjamin Beebe, better’ known to his cronies, if not to fame itself, as Bulldog Ben; partly from his reputation for dogged grit, but quite as much because of his face itself. , That was, as nearly as possible, a copy of a bulldog; massive jaws, low brows, little eyes which seemed to contain the very essence of wickedness when anger kindled in the compressed brain behind them. - With Bulldog Ben was the rest of “ the gang,’ as they were locally, known: Gin- ger Chump, Dick Tate, Owen Quinn, with several more whose names need not be put on record just yet. “T ecouldn’t ’a’ b’lieved it ef I hedn’t seen it with my own two lookin’ eyes!” declared an outsider, as “he set down an emptied glass and drew a sleeve across his lips in lack of a napkin. “ What made him do it, aryhow? I thunk—I al’ays reckoned them two critters was jest like two’ lambs o’ the same drop- pin’; yes, I did, now!” Dick Tate laughed sneeringly as he tossed back the dank locks of inky hair which had a fashion of falling over his left eye. A fairly handsome fellow, too, this young rascal, with his clear skin and big black eyes. A bit too pale, perhaps, hinting at owlish pursuits, if not owlish gravity. “That’s easy—dead easy, cully!” he declared, in tones to match that cynical ‘How has it been ever a ——— fall out about, too! A girl who is—” “Bite that off, boy!” harshly inter- rupted Bulldog Ben, lurching far enough that way to strike an arm with one of his huge paws. * What’s the matter with you, Bully?” “That's all right, Dicky. You sim- mer down, The boss wouldn’t—” “Tm my own boss, Bully, but let it go at that. Reasons enough without that particular one. For instance: who but a fool would sign any such articles of partnership? Who but a fool—or a knave!” “How so, pardner? ” “That everything should go to the other at death of his pard! And now— well, I reckon Marqueduc thought the Homestake was well worth playing the knife for!” “ That’s what!” gruffly, confirmed Bull- dog Beebe, as they ranged by the bar with freshly filled glasses. “ He wanted the whole hog, and so—sent his knife clear home in the back of his pard! And that’s why I say Harry Marqueduc ought to pull hemp before he’s an hour older! He murdered poor Rockweed, without giving him a chance to—” “You lie, like a mangy cur!” Sharp and distinct came these words from the front of the saloon, and as all within turned eyes that way, ’twas to behold a tall, broad-shouldered, rough- — figure just striding over the thresh- old. As though to put all doubts aside, that newcomer added: “You lie by, the watch, and you've got to eat those words or—I’ll eat you, hide, hair, and all!” A moment of breathless amazement at such audacity, then Bulldog Beebe rudely shoved a couple of his pals aside, to fairly confront that newcomer, speaking harshly as he did so: “Who in blazes may you be, that talks so mighty big and loud?” “A white man, freeborn, and owner of his tongue,” came the easy response, as the big fellow came a bit closer. “A man who is proud to own Harry, Marque- duc as a friend and pard and—” “Look out, Bully!” cried a voice in warning from the rear of the saloon. “Tt’s Headlong Hugh, and he’s bad med- icine!” “You bet your sweet life it’s Headlong Hugh, and he repeats: you’re an infernal pack of liars from start to finish! When you call Harry Marqueduc an assassin, you lie from crown to sole and all the way back again!” “T’ll hammer that mug o’ yours un- til—” began Bulldog Ben, in savage rage at thus being bearded in his own kennel; but before he could take more decided action, another pushed to the front. That other was Dick Tate, a com- parative stripling by the side of this long- haired Hercules; but the young rascal was no coward, let his failings be what they might. Jumping past the burly prize-fighter Dick hurled his glass full at the head of the newcomer, following it up with a still more vicious attack, knife flashing forth and going up for a deadly blow. If big beyond the ordinary, this Head- long Hugh certainly was not clumsy or sluggish in his: movements, since he swiftly ducked to let that heavy glass pass harmlessly. over his head, then came with a mighty surge to meet and foil that venomous assault. One sun-browned hand caught the sinewy wrist as the knife came glitter- ingly in quest of his life, and with a single twist the weapon was sent flying through the Jamplight to the rear of the room. With scarcely an effort (it hooked like) Headlong Hugh knocked his assailant down, then met the savage rush which came from Tate’s mates an instant later, A brief struggle, then Beebe and Gin- ger Chump were piled atop of Dick Tate, while Headlong Hugh stood with hands on hips, laughing at them,
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ond INSP. Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. 5 CHAPTER IV. HEADLONG HUGH TALKS BUSINESS. It all took place with a rapidity which Was only equaled by the ease displayed by this long-haired Hercules just off the trail, as his dust-covered, weather-beat- en garments bore ample evidence. Dick Tate lay quivering as he fell be- fore that swift stroke, with Bulldog Beebe crossing his carcass, and Ginger Chump sprawling all over, forming a confused medley of legs and arms and heads suffi- ciently ludicrous to justify the jolly guffaw which followed from the lips of this dare-devil sport from the mountains. Others could see something of that grim jest as well, but not all present were of that caliber, as Headlong Hugh right speedily found out. Owen Quinn, left out of that sudden rush through no lack of good will toward his pards, now caught up a heavy chair and jumped toward the Hercules, strik- ing as he came. “To the divil wid ye, thin! an’—” Leaping swiftly aside, Headlong Hugh escaped that vicious stroke, the heavy chair going to wreck as it struck the edge of the bar, half-paralyzing the freckled hands which gripped its back. “ Augh! go take a walk, Irish!” cried the sport, grappling with the fellow and rushing him across the room, then heav- ing him bodily into air, in spite of his desperate struggles, hurling him head- long through the onedingy window which that side of the saloon could boast. Quinn vanished amid the crash of sash and merry jingle of broken glass, and apparently assured against further trouble from that quarter, Headlong Hugh wheeled to the right about, each hand coming out from beneath his coat to display a wonderfully business-like revolver, with which he caught the drop like a veritable expert. Bulldog Ben was scrambling to his feet, as was Ginger Chump, but the sport anticipated them both, calling forth in sharp tones: “Go easy, there! You’re poorer game than I often hunt, but whenever a skunk circles my camp—steady, I tell you! I’ve got you lined, and I can shoot to a hair!” “You bet! Me too!” From the open doorway came this affirmation, and those eyes which almost involuntarily turned in that direction, caught sight of a tall, dark-skinned man crouching just inside the room, back guarded by the wall itself, while his cop- pery hands gripped butt and barrel of a Winchester repeating rifle, the muzzle of which was coolly, easily moving from side to side, and covering each man be- fore it in turn. An Indian, past doubting. And just as\ plainty one who meant to back up whatever Headlong Hugh saw fit to say or to do. “ Allright, Chonesta,” briskly spoke the Hercules, smiling grimly at the conster- nation so plainly pictured upon more faces than one, just then. “Shall I shoot, boss?” asked this lat- est arrival, his tones remarkably free from accent for one who was undoubt- edly cf purely Indian blood. “Not unless I set the example, pardy,” quickly, checked Headlong Hugh; then adding to the embarrassed roughs: “ Go easy, my beauties, unless you’re fairly honing for a high lot on the hillside. Some one of you called me by name just a bit ago, but maybe it’ll help smooth the way if I give you all a regular knock- down to both of us, “Yonder you see Chonesta, from the Cherokee Nation. If you don’t«like his aboriginal handle, give him that which he put on the roll-call at Haskell: Peter Black Dog. By either title he’ll bite just as keen and just as deep; don’t you begin to_doubt it, now!” “ Augh!” growled Bulldog Beebe, vi- ciously, as he eyed first one man and Lay down bly, like men who anticipated a shot by ! make a rush in those muzzles. “ Curse the bloody Injun—and you with him!” “That’s all right, but don’t you go fur- ther than cursing, my beauty. For one thing, ’twouldn’t be at all healthy. For another—but that can wait a bit longer. “ As for my mother’s son, I was christ- ened Hugh Eddlong, although my name has caught a sort of kink since then. Let that go, though. I’m what I am, and a goodly portion of that is—like this! “Harly Marqueduc is my friend, and has been ever since he gave the first blow with his pick right where the Homestake Mine now stands. “T never knew a whiter man than that same Harry Marqueduc, and when I caugnt such foul birds as you three croaking filth all over his name, I just had to chip—and that’s how it started!” “Tll play even for it all, you mind that, now!” “Let me know when you feel in the humor for it, will you? That’s all right, Bulldog. I can clean you out at any sort of fun and frolic you can turn your hand to; and take on your dirty pals as sort of make-weight. But for now—who Says Harry Marqueduc murdered any- body? Who dares to even hint at the like? ” With a rifle and a brace of sixes star- ing their way, neither one of the toughs felt sufficiently reckless to repeat that charge; but after a brief and embarrass- ing silence, Big Sandy spoke from his station benind the bar. “Mind ye, Mr. Eddlong, I hain’t say- in’ he did do jest that, but—waal, Miles Rockweed was stabbed clean through, an’ Harry Marqueduc he’s bin tuck to the lock-up fer doin’ of it.” Headlong Hugh gave vent to a deep- pitched sound which fell little short of being a mighty oath at this information, his honest visage turning a brick-red with indignation at thought of the bitter black insult thus put upon his sworn friend and comrade, For a moment or two, even Bulldog Beebe and Dick Tate flinched percepti- way of wiping out their share in that same insult. “It’s a lie, black as hell itself!” he fairly exploded the next moment. “A foul lie, told by. infamous liars, one and all! And you dirty whelps of Satan—” “Put up your guns, critter, and I’ll show ye what—” Beebe surlily showed his teeth while speaking, but broke off when Headlong Hugh shook a gun that way before making reply: “Tl give you all the chance you dare beg for, when the right time comes, you snarling cur. As for now—my first duty is to my pard, and I’m going to look him up. In the lock-up, you say, old fel- low?” Big Sandy nodded assent. “ All right. I know the place. A den for curs instead of quarters for an honest gentleman! But all that can be changed when—Chonesta!”’ “ All right, boss!” “Tf any of these whelps tries. to both- er, give ’em the best you’ve got in the shop. Understand?” “You bet!” “Now, just one word more to you fel- lows,” flashing eyes over the roughs while adding: “ Another time I’ll play horse with the pile o’ ye to your heart’s content, but for now—try to make more trouble while I’m working for my pard, and I’ll wipe you off the face o’ the earth!” “You bet! Me too!” Headlong Hugh moved toward the door without a further glance at the baffled thugs, but Black Dog was on the keen alert, and no move was dared by either, Then the Cherokee deftly backed out through the open doorway to join his master, the pair striding briskly away through the night. Here and there they brushed past little : knots of citizens, one and all talking ~~~, n-ne eee then the other, longing yet fearing to' in bated tones of the recent tragedy and hearty grasp of honest hands, its almost certain outcome, but aothing occurred to interrupt their progress until drawing near the rude structure which served as a calaboose for city offenders. Here was congregated quite a number of people, plainly excited by the cutting affair, and many of whom were talking more or less openly of a necktie party in which Harry Marqueduc should play the most prominent part. All that the crowd lacked was a leader with courage to take the first step; but that leader was not yet forthcoming, pos- sibly because Seneca Spotisround was standing near the barred door, face pale and stern-set, yet clearly standing up for the prisoner. Headlong Hugh, his temper at keener edge because of all his ears had caught while coming thus near the threshold, spoke abruptly to Mr. Spottsround, waom he appeared to recognize as one in au- - thority. The mining magnate gave start and half-smothered ejaculation at sight of the hairy Hercules, but paying ihat no heed, Headlong Hugh said: ‘“Look here, old gentleman: to get inside yonder!” “You can’t—” “You bet I just can, and you just bet I will, too!” came the harsh interrup- tion. “ You’ve got my pard in yonder, and—” “ Hugh—oh, Eddlong!” came an eager but husky cry from inside the calaboose, as those tones were recognized by, the prisoner, “All right, pardy! I’m here, and I'm going to—will you open up, I say? Or— open that door, Mr. Spottsround, or Pll shoot my way in!” Out came a brace of revolvers to match the words, and bold heart though he surely was, Seneca Spottsround shrunk back with face showing still paler than before. Ugly. mutterings came from the crowd, but Eddlong paid them no heed. “Not you, sir, but the lock,” he has- tened to assure the mine-owner, with a short, harsh laugh. “Open up, or V’ll blow your locks to blazes! I’m going inside, and I’m going right now!” “Tf I thought—” “Tt’s acting, not thinking, old gent. Open up or—that’s more like it!” cried Headlong Hugh, as Spottsround reluct- anitly produced a rusty-looking key from an inner pocket. Seemingly fancying that such a reck- less customer as this would be more amenable to reason inside rather than outside the jail, Spottsround turned key in lock as quickly as might be, then nodded head as invitation for the big sport to cross the threshold, Dim though the light was right there, it seemed sufficient for such keen eyes, and as though seeing-something to take warning by in that unusually pale face, Eddlong spoke with grim decision: “All right. I’m going in, but—after you is manners, just now!” A brief hesitation, then Spottsround entered, followed by the sport. “You stand guard, Black Dog, and don’t let ’em play us dirt!” was his ad- juration to the faithful Cherokee, I want CHAPTER V. THE SPORT'S LUCKLESS PARD. “You bet!” quoth Black Deg, as he faced the crowd, back to the door, look- ing far more the untamed warrior than a graduated from Haskell University. Evidently the sport held full confidence in this, his henchman, for he gave no further look in that direction, shoving Seneca Spottsround to one side in order to the more fervently greet his luckless pard. Harry Marqueduc seemed almost too deeply agitated for articulate speech, and there were drops of moisture about his eyes which, in case of a woman, would have been tears, as he felt that
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fellow was too deeply wrought upon just then for ordinary greetings, so put on his gayest bustle as he gripped ‘hands and cried: “Well, now,’ this pard in, you delicious young rascal, you! How dare you—if I hadn’t* been born too mighty good-natured for my own blessing, Hal, you scoundrel, I’d crawl all up your back; like a blessed alacran —yes, I just would, now!” “f-never—you have heard, then?” huskily muttered the prisoner. * Some infernal nonsense about—panh! | What fools say. let a fool give ear to— | and that’s not my mother’s boy! It’s alla dirty mistake which can’t hold for | @ minute when people get their reason back again. And so—take a brace, old man! I'll have you out o’ this in just two waggles of a sheep’s flapper! ” Just then Seneca Spottsround inter- posed, voice sounding almost as anxious as his face looked by the dim glow of | the oil-lamp against the rear wall of | the calaboose. “Tf he could only explain—can’t you tell who did the cutting, lad, since you say you never?’”’ ‘Of course he never!” “ Before high heaven, I never harmed peor Miles!” passionately cried the ace | cused, freeing hands from that warm grasp to clasp and hold them above his head, like one calling the powers to bear witness, “Yet he was stabbed, and that while you were fighting. If not your hand, whose was it?” persisted the mine-own- er, gravely. The Happy-go-lucky Sport gave him an abrupt shove aside, seemingly irritat- ed by that very gravity, then faced his pard, one hand on shoulder, while its mate closely clasped a set of trembling fingers. “Brace up, old man, and tell mé all about it. Of course I know you never struck at a man’s back; it isn’t in your blood; but since Miles did catch the point, who did it?” Something in those tones and that presence aided Marqueduc to rally in goodly measure, although he still looked and acted like one half-dazed by, some benumbing blow. Again and again the accused protested his complete innocence, but with it came the assertion of utter ignorance as well. “He was drunk; not stupidly, you un- derstand, but just enough under the cursed influence to be quarrelsome.” “Or he'd never pick a row with a fel- low like you; that goes without saying, Harry. “JT tried my level best to keep out of it. I begged him to go ’way and sleep it off. I even—he struck me, time and again! See!” pushing back his tangled locks to agitatedly tap with fore- finger that ugly bruise upon a temple, “ He struck you first, Harry?” “Yes, yes! I did all that mortal man might do to ease it over, but when he said—he was drunk—fighting drunk!” “What did he say?” quickly cut in Mr. Spottsround, listening keenly and closely to that broken explanation. “What was it that made you turn upon him in the end?” “ Didn’t he tell you?” almost harsh- ly cried the Sport, frowning upon the mine-owner. “If a man should hammer you all over, wouldn’t you turn on him, too? Sure! And so—you grappled Har- ry? You had a wrestle and a dog-fall, didn’t you?” “Yes, but—” “T knew it! And being fighting drunk, as you say, and feeling that he was getting all the worst of the muss, he picked—-why, a blind man could see it all with his eyes shut! ” “Then you know—” “Of course I know! And so would anybody else know who toted even a modicum of sound sense about with him! is a sweet-scented | old hostelry yotve chosen to welcome a | | Eddlong saw this; saw that the young Know? Why wouldn’t I, when it’s all so plain that—where were your reasoning powers, Spottsround? ” But the mine-owner shook his head in | silent response before saying: *“You’re wrong, sir; it wasn’t Rock- weed’s own knife.” } “How do you know? Who says so? Of course it was his own knife, and ‘he fell upon it when the lads went down | together!” gruffily declared the big Sport, | with frown and shake of hairy pow. A brief silence, broken by Spottsround, speaking slowly, seriously: “ And it was Marqueduc’s worse luck! ”’ | “No, no, I never—I didn’t—I had no | knife with me! ” Seneca Spottsround in silence pointed at the waist of the accused. The empty seabbard hung there at his hip, just where a hand would find it easiest to grasp hilt and draw weapon. Headlong Hugh gave an ominous growl at this, lips curling back from strong white teeth as he faced the mine-owner | to utter: “Are you trying to knot around his neck? Are you one dirty enemies, sir?” “No, no, Hugh! Only for him I would have been lynched like a sheep-killing cur! Only for him—he is one of my best friends, Eddlong.”’ “Let that answer your doubts, Mr. Eddlong,’ gravely spoke Spottsround. “What I want most is to get at the bottom facts in this ugly affair, and in order to do that the truth must be told | the rope of his on all sides. And so 1 repeat: ‘Twas Harrys own sheath-knife which we found sunk to its very hilt In the back of poor Rockweed.”’ The Sport turned again to his pard, and choking back his emotions as best he might, Marqueduc answered that si- lent query. “Tt may be. It must be so, since he says it. But I never had my knife with | me—then! I mislaid it, some way, some- where; I can’t remember now. But this much I feel fairly sure of: Miles never | tried to cut me; how could he when we | were wrestling? Yet—it surely must | have been an accident, somehow! ” | Headlong Hugh frowned and shook his | pow. “Such accidents don’t happen, pardy. | "Twould split sober reason wide open to | make it cover so much, and— What’s biting you now, Hal?” Marqgueduc shrunk away, shiveringly. “You mean—you can think I really did itt? “ Haven’t you told me you never cut Rockweed, pard?’”’ “Yes, but—” “That settles it, then! You never played Miles dirt, but somebody surely did; and that’s just the point I’m going to make clear enough for wise men anda ! idiots to read as they canter, you bet your delicious existence! ” “Oh, if you only will—if you only could, Hugh! ” “Tll do it or bu’st a bhfame-strup, pardy! Ill find out the whole truth and drag the dirty whelp of Satan to justice | ; see Headlong Hugh shake head and hear | him speak: if it takes the rest of my life; that’s said and sworn to!” « During all this time eager eyes had kept watch without, and curious ears _ Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. _ | stretch ‘don’t you think it, even for a minute. | that yanks were being strained to their utmost in striving to follow what might be said within the calaboose. Neither sight nor sound proved suf- ficient for some of the more turbu- lent spirits, however, and at this junct- ure some one raised the ominous cry for a life for a life! “Hang him! Lynch him! Rush the Injun and snatch the knifer bald-head- ed!” Marqueduc straightened up at this, tossing head back and looking more like his natural self for the moment. Lip curled with fierce scorn ere gloomy despair. ceme to darken that swarthily handsome visage. “You hear?” he spoke, bitterly. | | “Even if you can find out the whole truth, Eddlong, ’twill come too late for my neck! ” The Sport moved a bit closer to the door, speaking sharply to his redskin pard: ‘“ Hold ’em level, Chonesta! Shoot the first fool who tries to crowd you off your guard, and I'll be there with both hands full of sudden death! ” “You bet!” assured Black Dog, cheer- fully. “T’ll give ’em little old h—1 in big | chunks; that’s.so! ” turned back to his both hands. in Headlong Hugh luckless pard, gripping his as he spoke again: “Brace up, old man. You'll never hemp for another’s crime, so I'll see you safely out o’ this nasty hob- ble, and we’ll both tail on to the rope poor Rockweed’s assassin elean into eternity! ” “Tf it hadn’t been his knife! ” tered Spottsround. “That comes in with the rest of the day’s work. I’ll get it all straightened out in good time, never you worry, sir. And now, try to make it just a bit more clear, pardy. Tell us just how the row started, and just wnat it was all about.” Even now that seemed no easy task for Marqueduc, and his voice faltered more than once ere he could get his explana- tion fairly under headway. But, encour- aged by Eddlong, he finally got at the kernel. That came in Yowered tones, which could be understood only by those three, for in spite of the imminent peril which menaced his very. life, Harry could not bring himself to forget or ignore the re- spect due a lady. He spoke of the taunts and hints let fall by his partner in the Homestake Mine, growing angry and hot as he dwelt upon that tender point. “You know he lied while saying’ it, sir!” he appealed to Mr. Spottsround. “You know Milly was and is true as steel! You know that she loved me alone, even as she promised to marry me! Don’t you, now?” Instead of making prompt acknowledg- ment as Harry plainly expected, Seneca Spottsround shrunk back a bit, like one mut- | painfully embarrassed, or one reluctant to tell all he might. Just then an interruption came from without, which was welcomed by at least one of that trio. ““T say, boss!” called a gruff voice through the heavily barred window. *“You’re wanted by Miles Rockweed over to the hotel!” “What! Then he is not—he’s still living?’’ demanded the capitalist, step- ping toward the door, while looking at the face by the window. “Yes, but—waal, now, he’s mighty bad off, an’ ef ye don’t make a holy hurry of it I wouldn’t give a tinker’s dam fer yer chainces o’ seein’ him this side o’ ’tar- nity; no I wouldn’t now! ” *T’ll go—l’ll come at once! ” But a strong hand checked his move- ment, and he turned with a’ frown to “Don’t be in such a mighty rush, pard- ner. I like your company too well to take the dirty shake like this.” “What do you mean by that?” “Weli, I reckon if Rockweed can see one, he can stand a couple, so—good- night to ye, pardy!” turning a smiling visage tuward Marqueduc and reaching back a cordial hand for grip and shake. “You’re going, Hugh? You’re not— must you go?” “Tt’s on your business, pardy, so take a good brace and make up your mind to this blessed truth: the right is bound to come out on top o’ the heap, and we’ll both play horse together ages after the real assassin has fattened the worms.” “Unless they lynch me, out o’ hand! ” with a sickly laugh. “‘ With you two true friends gone, what protection hawe I?”
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Headlon Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. CHAPTER VI. A PHYSICIAN ON GUARD. “Oh, you’re too low down in the mouth by far, pardy,” briskly assured the Hap- py-go-lucky Sport, with a light laugh, |! which ‘seemed entirely free from care | serve him to the full extent of my abil- | He is far too low for conversation, | or uneasiness for the future. “‘ Where we go, a round score of just as honest and | muuuoradie men stop behind. And—wait | a bit, pardy!”’ “S Seneca Spottsround was opening the door, and as it swung inward to grant them exit, he raised his voice higher, speaking to the crowd in general. “ You understand, gentlemen, I’m going bail for Henry Marqueduc. I swear that he is guiltless of harming Miles Rock- weed, and my life stands pledged to not only prove as much, but to fetch the real knifer to the gallows.” A few scattering cheers greeted this emphatic announcement, but there were less agreeable sounds coming from more | quarters than one at the same time, Ignoring these, Headlong Hugh spoke on: “ Having given you one and all this honest pledge, I'll show you the other | side of the document. I know .what a few dirty whelps can bring to pass if they set their minds upon it, but if there | is any foul play attempted this night; if | harm is offered my pard in here before | we have a fair chance to show his com- plete innocence, I'll kill the leaders if I go down while doing so!” Seneca Spottsround all concerned to withdraw, and to take no decided move that night, hoping, as | he believed, that Marquedue could still be proven innocent of attempted murder. Bidding Black Dog keep guard over . the jail and its occupant until he could go and come, Headlong Hugh gave Harry | a final word of encouragement, then hur- ried away through the night in company with Seneca Spottsround, their immedi- ate destination being the hotel to which unfortunate Miles Rockweed had been conveyed. But few words were spoken during | that brief tramp, for each man had an abundance of food for sober thought. Now that the eyes of his young pard eould no longer read the change of his countenance. Hugh Eddlong ing. Not that he would for an instant doubt his friend. He would as quickly believe himself guilty of assassination. But how was that innocence to be made manifest? Only for that luckless weapon! Whose hand had dealt the fatal stroke? How could it have been done without either man’s knowledge? Even though locked in fierce wrestle, it seemed past all probability that such a blow could be administered and he who gave it escape recognition by one or the other adversary. Yet, granting Harry’s innocence, that must have been the case. For, surely, Rockweed would not be carrying his partner’s knife in addition to his own? Or, if so, was it likely that he would have drawn that to accidentally fall upon, instead of his own tool?’ Such perplexing thoughts kept the Sport’s brain fairly busy until the hotel was reached and they stood near the head of the stairs where was located the chamber assigned to the wounded miner. Before a hand could fairly rap at that . barrier, it swung silently open and the tall form of Dr. Branscombe emerged, a frown upon his face, as he seemed to recognize their purpose without words. “He’s still alive, doctor?” asked ‘Spottsround in lowered tones to suit the occasion. “ Alive, but little more, What do you want?” , “ Admittance, of course. ssent for me, and I wish to—” _ _ But the physician on guard shook his Rockweed = likewise begged | looked , grave enough, for his mind was sorely | puzzled to account for that ugly happen- | “ You cannot enter, Mr. Spottsround.” ‘But, he sent word for me to come; | that he wished to see me at once,”’ urged | the mine-owner and capitalist. i - **Can’t help it, sir. my patient, and I feel in duty bound to | ity. and so—you cannot enter!” | Spottsround fell back like one abashed |} at this, but Headlong Hugh was not so | readily repulsed, and that cold, stiff, for-. | bidding manner had no particular terror. | | for him. | Stepping more to the front as Seneca / fell back on silent toes, he spoke in low but earnest tones: | “You'd be all right under ordinary oc- ; casions, sir, but this doesn’t happen to be | such. Rockweed sent for Mr. Spotts- round—” “Tam not deaf, sir,” With a stiff bow. “ Don’t try to be deaf to reason, then,” | his teeth. ‘ Although his physician, you ‘are hardly Mr. Rockwood’s father con- | fessor, I imagine?” “ Possibly not, but neither are you.” “ You can’t prove it. I want in—” “Tve already said that you cannot en- ter. Surely that is plain enough lan- guage, sir?” “Come, come, now!” with” growing impatience, ‘‘ This may be all right un- ' der ordinary circumstances, but not right ,now Rockweed can tell how he came | by his hurt, and so hinder an innocent | neck from stretching hemp. That’s why | vm begging for you—” “What I’m constrained as a physician in charge to deny, sir.” “But he sent for Spottsround, and you have no right to deny him admittance when—” “Surely Mr. Spottsround is able to speak for himself? Since he has taken my answer as final, why need you kick? So—good-night to you, sir!” curtly spoke the man of medicine, opening and slip- ping through the door, closing it just as deftly in the face of the sport. Eddlong was taken completely by sur- | prise, for as he glanced around at those words, he found himself alone; Seneca Spottsround had vanished without sound or word! And yet that feat was easily, enough accomplished. As stated, the chamber door was close to the head of the narrow flight of stairs, and doubtless knowing from past experi- ence that Dr. Branscombe could not be moved from a stand once taken, the capitalist had but to slip back a pace or two, then descend to the lower floor and pass out beneath the stairs. That was precisely what Seneca Spotts- round did do, and before his absence was so much as suspected by the deeply interested sport, he was fairly clear of the hotel and striding along through the uncertain moonlight at a rapid rate. There was naught of hesitation or of irresclution to be noted in his move- ments, and Spottsround evidently had some particular destination in view from the start. : It did not take him long to reach that goal, for presently his pace slackened and he cast a slow, sweeping glance around like one dreading espial. Failing to detect aught which might confirm that dread, Spottsround strode on a few paces further, pausing in front of a rude and small frame building, at the rough door of which he rapped after a peculiar fashion. Silence. A brief pause, then another series of taps with knuckles, and the plank barrier swung open a couple of feet, while a rough tone ‘made itself heard: ; “Come in, can’t you, boss? Nobody's looking, I don’t reckon?” Spottsround slipped through the open- ing and as rapidly shut the door back of himself before speaking in turn, “That’s all right, Beebe, but I’m past | | taking any off-chances, you want to un-_ - derstand. And this night is—pah! I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth already!” Bulldog Beebe gave a nondescript | sound which ‘could hardly be interpret- Mr. Rockweed is | retorted the Sport with a brief show of | ed, moving back to where a couple of chairs stood by a rude table supporting a guttering candle, Dropping into the nearest seat, he waved a huge paw, toward the other in ' speechless invitation for his guest to be seated as well. Spottsround accepted that invitation, giving a long breath as he tossed aside his hat, brushing one long-fingered | white hand over his damp temples as he | leaned back fn his chair. Bulldog Ben leaned forward, elbows ; On table aad massive jaws clasped by his big hands, little eyes twinkling evilly ;} as they scanned that face, now looking remarkably pale, in spite of the mask of | iron-gray beard with which it was sup- | plied by nature. “Well, what is it, Beebe?” asked Spottsround, after a bit of waiting, “T was just wondering, boss,” slowly | answered the ex-pugilist. “What about, pray?” “This: how did you manage to turn that little trick, anyway, Spottsround? ” | abruptly asked Beebe, leaning still fur- | ther across the table in his undisguised interest. 3efore an answer could be given to that decidedly leading question, a sound from just without the door drew both pair of eyes swiftly that way; and then came a hurried rap, followed instantly, by lifting latch and opening barrier. Bulidog Beebe half-rose from his chair with a snarl of. angry surprise, but as quickly dropped back again on recogniz- ing the fellow who made such an un- ceremonious entrance, *Hellow, Quinn! You, is it? But what in blazes are you doing with that mop of hair on the mug o’ you, man alive?” The intruder was looking at mine- owner rather than pugilist, and he gave a low, odd-pitched chuckle as one hand went up to pluck from his face the false beard and mustache which he had worn at entrance. : Looking at this affair for an instant, still with face on the broad grin, as though he found something particularly humorous in that connection, Owen Quinn leaned back against the closed door, growing fairly sober of face as he gave a nod toward the capitalist, then slowly extended his right hand that way before speaking. “What are you trying to get through you, anyway, Irish?” harshly demanded Bulldog Ben, frowning blackly. “Faith, sor,” with a nod which clearly indicated Seneca Spottsround, “ maybe ’tis you, sor, can give me the informa- tion, thin? MHayre’s the blessed pelt, sure, an’ now—whayre’s the mon that wore it, bedad?” , CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW OF COMING EVENTS. These words were plainly addressed to Seneca Spottsround, and Owen Quinn leaned forward with keen interest aglow in his eyes, shaking the mass of hair as _ he did so. Bulldog Ben gave another slight start, and his gaze as well became riveted upon the pale face of the mine-owner of whose talents Hardpan was so proud. Mr. Spottsround showed surprise plain- _ ly enough, but if any other emotion stirred within breast or brain, naught in ~ his countenance betrayed the fact. “A—what is it you’ve got Quinn?” he asked, after a brief pause for inspection. ‘‘ Looks like—what is it, anyway?” sae ers 2 “Will ye look at this, thin, begorra!’”” Owen clapped the hair upon his face, awkwardly enough, yet in such fashion — none who saw could well doubt what i was intended for. ; fa _Vividly red as to hue, coarse a texture, unkempt and frowsy the s
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Headlong. Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. yet a more than fair disguise for one who | re one who had no little to offer. “ Wheth- wished to conceal his identity for any | er that cuts any figure in this particular | ease depends—let me get at it in regular particular purpose. “A false beard; why are you wearing it, Quinn?” demanded the capitalist, the surprise which showed in face entering tones as well. The Irishman gave another odd chuckle, removing’ the disguise as he came forward, dropping it upon the table between the two men. “Did ye never see the like o’ that, thin, sor?” Spottsround touched the hairy mass with tip of forefinger, much as though he suspected contagion might lurk there- in. He shook his head as he glanced up to meet those half-mocking, half-menac- ing eyos. “ Never this to my knowledge. What do you mean, Owen?” “ An’ butther wouldn’t milt in the gob o’ him be the looks, faith!” Quinn turned abruptly away from the table, fetching a third chair from the rear of the room, seating himself nigh the other men, legs extended, hands in pockets, chin touching chest as his body took a sharp angle. Sen2ca Spottsround looked at the mus- cular Irishman for a few seconds silence, then turned with a shoulder- shrug toward his host, drily speaking: “Too much bad whisky, don’t you reckon, Beebe?” Bulldog Ben shook his head, warily. “ Something better or worse than that, boss. to get through you, anyway, Quinn?” “Do vye see that same, then?” manded the Irishman, losing something of the brogue with which he had sprin- kled his talk before. “ What is it, gin- tlemen? ” “We can see what ’tis easy enough. What does it mean?” “Well, I’ll tell ye just that, still keenly watching the capitalist with veiled interest. ‘It’s something left be- hind be the: felly, that stobbed Miles Rockweed, sure!” “ What!’ ejaculated Spottsround, pick- ing up the manufactured hair with quick- ened interest at these words. “Sure!” “How do you know? Where’d you find it, Owen?” asked Beebe. “That’s the story I'll be afther telling Why? in | Owen isn’t—wkat are you trying | de- | | quite finished to his fancy. faith,” | i thick ye av ye'll howld yer whisht a wee min-| ute or so, faith,’ declared the Patlander, | Said, straightening up in his chair and lean- | ing forward for greater comfort. “Out with it, then!” “Well, thin, ’twas when I saw there ‘was mighty little show for a necktie par- | thy, wid Harry Marqueduc to lade the procission, thin, that I tuck a bit av a | wandher over the way where that same | cuttin’ scrape kem off, ye understand?” | “And there you found—this? ” asked | Spottsround. ‘“Thrue for you, sor? ele. Again the mine-owner shook his head like one thoroughly puzzled to ac- count for it all. His glances. Bulldog Ben nodded his head, and Quinn spoke on in brisker tones, “ Niver mind just why I tuck the fancy to hev a squint in that same quarther, sor. I had, faith, an’ this was what I found!” “From which you deduce#-” “Tsn’t it plain enough, faith? the felly who cut Miles—” “Wait, please,” spoke Spottsround, Sure, leaning far enough that wav to tap the! Trishman’s nearest arm with !'ong fore- finger. “TI Fold, with poor Miles him- self, that Harry Marqueduc did the eut- , ting. s mand this thing?” demanded Quinn, | touching the disguise. _ ° “Wait, please,” quietly repeated the, _eapitalist, settling back in his chair like | There I found | this, like he who hed good use for that | same wan time, hed flung it away afther | his nasty work was done to his liking; | yes!” Again the two men examined the arti- | ompanions interchanged covert | order, though.” “Go ahead, boss. We're all ears open to ye,” declared Bulldog Ben, shoving forth a huge brogan to give his mate a warning kick beneath the table. Seneca Spottsround paid no attention | to this bit of byplay, although it could | hardly have escaped his notice. His face was grave and serious, his tones | pitched to correspond. “You haven’t forgotten what a pecu- liar contract those two hot-heads entered | into when first convinced that they had struck pay-rock in the Homestake?” “ Your telling it over can’t do any hurt, | boss. Go on,” “That contract, in brief, ran like this: The Homestake was held by Marqueduc | and Rockweed in equal shares. Neither | was to sell out without the full and free | consent of his partner, and in case one or other died while they were still in possession, his whole share in the min- | ing property was to fall to the survivor, | any will or wish to the contrary not- withstanding.” “The craziest idee I ever against, too!” declared Beebe. “T’d take it for a perlite invitation to. lift me pelt, faith!” Seneca Spottsround smiled and nodded at each speaker in turn, but he had not run up: “Something on that order, I must ad- | mit, lads,’ was his smooth continuation a moment later. ‘“ Let me shed a bit; more light over the matter, please.” “Go on, boss.” ‘Well, this is the point I wish to par- ticularly impress upon your minds, my good friends. If Miles Rockweed should die first—” “TIsn’t he croaked, thin, sor?” “Not yet. I’ve just come from there, you understand? And so—let me finish what I started to say, please.” “You button up, Irish, or ’ll pin yer' lips together with a toothpick like the one Miles caught atwixt his | shoulders! ” “Careful, lads. No rowing,’ please. | There’s a heap sight better employment for all hands this blessed night, if you’ll only take the same view of the matter [| do. So—listen, now! “ Bearing in mind what I’ve already | this is just the way matters stand ) right now. If Rockweed dies first, Mar- queduc is left his heir, and so comes into | full and undisputed possession of the Homestake; a fortune big enough to di- vide amongst a dozen, yet leave them | one and all well-off for life!” “That’s no lie, either! ” “Tf so, who would be Marqueduc’s heir if he was to hang?” “Well, sir, there’s the girl—” “Stop!” sharply interrupted Spotts- round, with uprising hand and gather-, ing brows. ‘“‘ Please leave my ward out of the discussion, Beebe. As for the rest, say the mob should lynch Harry first, | that would leave Miles sole heir to the | Homestake property, wouldn’t it?” “Glory to the saints!” “Sure thing! And then you would— | eh?” Seneca Spottsround leaned back in his | | chair, smiling blandly as his keen eyes | passed from face to face, taking note of | their workings. Vastly different he looked from the honest citizen who so boldly stood up in defence of life and honor but a brief hour | earlier that eventful night. Then a man to be proud of; now a cunning schemer whose heart was black _ as his face was white! “And when poor Miles croaked (as | he surely must, and that before another | sunrise comes to Hardpan) his last, what would be the result?” “You're meaning something, sor?” “Of course, and that something is-rich , ' enough for the most cultivated taste, | too! I’m meaning iust this, gentlemen! , “Should good luck have it that Mar-' | hesitate and search with | of risk to be run, lads. nals hops the twig before Miles Rock- weed dies of his hurt, no matter by whose hand administered, everything falls to the poor rascal, according to the contract, And then—” “Where do we come in at, boss?” “That’s the main quistion, faith!” ‘I’m’ working ’round to that, lads. When Miles dies, as he can’t help but do with such an ugly hurt, there’ll be mighty rich pickings for us all; don’t you see?” ‘“Not so. mighty clear, yit, sir.” “ You’re terribly dull of comprehension all at once, Beebe; but if you can’t take hint without a kick, right here you have | the rest of it. “All Hardpan knows that both pards ! have’ been mighty intimate at my place, but even Hardpan can’t swear as to all that may or may not have passed be- tween myself and the owners of the Homestake. And so, with both men well out of the way, what’s to hinder my producing a regular bill of sale transfer- ring that property to me?” “You mean—have you boss?” “Well, how could I produce such a document if it didn’t come to me in regular course?” coolly asked the cap- italist, showing teeth in a _ brief-lived | smile, “From Miles Rockweed, asked: Owen Quinn, slowly, bought it, is it, sor?” eyes all | aglow as they scanned that face, one big hand thoughtfully rubbing his an- gular chin the while. “Of course. *Twould be of little serv- | ice with any other name as seller, don’t | you reckon? For, of course, Miles will outlive his pard.” The two men shifted uneasily in their chairs, interchanging glances which con- | tained more doubt than confidence. Then Bulldog Ben spoke for both him- | self and pard: “Well, sir, it’s not so mighty hard to | see how all that might benefit you, but when it comes down to others: where do we come in at, boss?” Now it seemed Spottsround’s time ‘to keen eyes. From face to face, then back again. Then, in low but distinct tones he let his mask fall still further. “Of course there is a certain amount You couldn’t in reason expect to make any big winning without staking something on your own side; now, could you?” “Go on, boss. Say it out flat-footed, please.” “That’s right, sor! faith!” “Well, The whole thing, then, this is about the way ' I’m regarding the matter, my good fel- lows,” deliberately went on the schemer. | “T’ll see that the finer work comes out ' exactly as we might wish, but of course no single man can do the whole job. You must do your full share, don’t you see?” “How, do it?” “Something like this, then. Of course you aven’t forgotten how I stood up for Harry Marquedue a bit ago; how I fought back the idea of lynch-law taking a hand in before he’d had a fair trial? “Of course I’m still holding to the same notion. I hate the bare idea of hanging a fellow-being without long de- lay and full trial, and so—I’ll bet each one of you fellows a cool thousand» dol- lars that Harry Marqueduc doesn’t pull | hemp before daylight!” CHAPTER VIII. SENECA SPOTTSROUND SHOWS HIS HAND Smiling as blandly as one might who had not just let fall a truly diabolical sentiment, the capitalist of Hardpan leaned back in his rude chair, twiddling his long. slender fingers in front of his ; breast as he glanced from face to face before him. Thorough-paced villains though they assuredly were, neither Bulldog Bem Beebe nor Owen Quinn were swift to
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catch the cue, thinly though that had been disguised. Seeing this spoke further: “Or, if you call that too brief notice, I'l amend my proposition. I bet you a cool thousand each that Harry. Marque- duc doesn’t hang, through mob or by law, before this hour to-morrow!” The ex-pugilist flung forth a hand in irritated gesture. “Where would the like o’ us get such a pile to bet, I want to know?” “Your word is good as your bond with me, gentlemen,” smoothly declared the capitalist. ‘“‘ With the odds so heav- ily in my favor—for I flatter myself all Hardpan couldn’t furnish a mob to fly in the face of my wishes as I have al- ready expressed them—” ‘““Augh! come out like a man, can’t you?” surlily growled the prize-fighter, striking fist upon table with a force which caused the guttering candle to jump and dance, in company with its holder, “Say it in plain American, wan't you, boss?” Spottsround flashed a swift look about ! that rude interior, as though to make gure po other ears could catch his words, then leaned forward to plant elbows on table and speak coolly, clearly: “Since you must have every syllable spelled out in full, open your ears and Jet once telling serve for all time! “Miles Rockweed has caught his last Sickness. He may possibly pull through this night, but he can’t outlive to-mor- row. He must outlive Harry Marqueduc, if only by an hour!” “Make it show us winners, boss, if you know how.” “All right. Set the gang to work and have them lynch Marqueduc, then I'll be ready with the papers when Rockweed eroaks. And I’ll pay each one of you fellows a cool thousand chucks if that lynching comes off in good time. Under- stand?” “Good enough!” grunted Bulldog Ben. “Good a-plenty far as it goes, but that isn’t quite far enough, you see?” “How so? A single word, almost, will | set the crowd howling for a necktie’ party!” “'That’s right, too, but you forget—the sport!” “ The—whom? ” “Headlong Hugh he calls himself,’’ with a wry grimace and a half-smoth- ered curse at the memory thus revived. “He’s a devil on ten wheels when he gets started, and he’s dead stuck on Marqueduc. You know that.” “Well, he’s but a man, all told.” “A mighty tough nut to crack, all the same. And, worse luck! he’s got the bunch o’ us down in his books for a mighty black mark already.” “How so? I don’t understand, Beebe.” Bulldog Ben gave a tolerably impartial account of their adventure with the Happy-go-lucky Sport, backed up by the redskinned delegate from Haskell In- stitute. Seneca Spottsround frowned a bit as he listened, but then his brows cleared once | more and’ he was ready with an answer when the ex-pugilist ceased speaking. “ Well, of course we oughtn’t to expect to pick up a big fortune without taking some slight chances. I know Eddlong, and he’s pretty much all you say for the fellow.” “ And that red divil isn’t a slouch, d’ye mind, now!” contributed Owen Quinn. “ Wid his big goon—augh!” “That big gun will help him precious little when it comes to a snug rap on the sconce from behind,” coolly declared the capitalist. “As for the sport—wait a bit.” much, Mr. Spottsround Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. long. Make sure you deliver it when As a matter of course, his first thought none others are nigh enough to take; was to rejoin the sport whom he had note of the fact, and let the sport see how it comes to me.” “If he should see too much, though?” “He'll scarcely spread his knowledge abroad, don’t you worry,” with a low significant chuckle, which spoke ever plainer than his words. “But you car easily guard against that. Muffle up Wear this hairy contrivance, for thi matter,” touching the false beard, whict still lay upon the table between them. “All right, boss. That’s easy enough come to think it over. But,” and Bulldog Ben eyed that scrap of paper curiously “what’ve you written there, if it’s ¢ fair question?” “Tll read it off to you, lads. Just this much: ‘I know who cut Miles Rockweed Fetch a hundred chucks to the old Blow out workings, and I’ll blow the gaff.’” “They hain’t no name signed to it boss?” “Of course not.” “It don’t sound jest—what if the spor don’t bite, though?” “Don’t you worry about that part o the job, Beebe. TI’ll see that Eddlons takes the bait clear down to where he lives.” The two lesser knaves looked at each other for a brief space, then Owen Quinn ventured: “ Av he does bite, sor? What thin?’ Seneca Spottsround left the decoy note lying on the table, leaning back in hi chair once more to indulge in a low, sar- castic chuckle before making answer tc this query. “That belongs to your part of the job lads. I'll see that the sport goes from town to the rendezvous all right enough Ill make it come so that he’ll never hold a doubt as to that note being just what it looks on the face of it. “ After I’ve drawn him out yonder though, you fellows must do the rest, if you wish to earn your thousand.” “That was for running Marqueduc up a tree, wasn’t it?” —~ “And you say that can’t be done sc long as Eddlong is to the fore,” crisply retorted the capitalist. “If you’d rather down him while rushing the rope—” “No, no; it’ll come easier the other way, I reckon.” “ And safer by far. But you must fully understand one thing: there mustn’t be any slip-up. He must stay righ there! If he should get back to town before the lynching—well, that migh never come off!” Bulldog Ben frowned darkly as h pinched lips between thumb and fore finger, staring at vacancy for a few mo- ments. Evidently his sluggish brain was slowly shaping the vile plot which was .thus shadowed forth. Producing a notebook and pencil from ' an inner pocket, he tore out a blank leaf, then wrote rapidly for a few seconds be- fore speaking further. Returning book and pencil to his breast, Spottsround added: es “Fetch or send me this note, waiting | until you find me in company with Edd- Presently he gave a long breath, nod- ding vigorously as he brought a heavy fist down upon the table. ‘All right, boss! It’s a whack, and we'll claim your thousands; eh, Owen?” “Sure an’ I’ve been good an’ riddy this hour gone by,” coolly. declared the Irish- man. “T’ll give ye the note, sor, an’ divil a wan o’ him will iver know me, faith!” At this Seneca Spottsround rose from his chair and crossed over to where his hat was lying, speaking further as he came erect once more, “All right. Settle the details amongst you, Beebe, only make clean work of it all. A coupe of you ought to be enough out yonder, as I’ll lead the sport blind- fold into the trap. The rest can turn the trick at the calaboose. Only—clean work of it all, remember!” Both roughs gave assurance that such should be the case, then Mr. Spottsround blew out the candle before opening the door. “No use in calling attention to our little seance, lads, you understand?” was his chuckling remark; then he crossed the threshold and hastened away to. perform his part in that evil con- spiracy. eee ee —eeeeEEEEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEEeEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eee engaged to lure into a death-trap, and just as naturally he went first to where he had last seen the Hercules, Spottsround failed to find Eddlong at the hotel, but his time was not entirely wasted, since he contrivéd to catch a few words with Dr. Branscombe, from whose lips he learned an important fact. “He is still alive, sir, and from all appearances he will live to see another day dawn. present quiet is not disturbed.” “Will he not pull through entirely, then?” solicitously queried the benevo- lent mine-owner, face as full of anxiety as were his tones. The doctor shook his head decidedly. “Impossible, sir! Only a truly marvel- ous constitution has enabled him to cling to life thus far. He is gradually weak- ening, and all the drugs and medical skill in America couldn’t prolong that life four-and-twenty hours longer!” Spottsround properly expressed his deep regrets at this death-knell in which he so firmly believed, then withdrew after again offering all the aid which lay within his means. Leaving the hotel, Mr. Spottsround turned in the direction of the jail, feel- ing fairly confident that he would be more successful in that quarter; a. belief which was speedily justified. The Happy-go-lucky Sport had earried to Marqueduc the welcome tidings that Miles Rockweed was still far from being a corpse, and in his honest efforts to cheer that luckless pard up, no doubt Eddlong stretched the truth a trifle. : Watching his chance, Seneca Spotts- round gave the sport a signal which was promptly answered in person, and after moving well away from the still excited crowd which lingered nigh the calaboose, the mine-owner excused himself by tell- ing what he had gleaned from Dr. Branscombe. While thus engaged the arch-schemer caught sight of a bearded man skulking nearer, and a few seconds later Owen Quinn, in disguise, handed him the de- coy-note, gruffly muttering ere he van- ished amid the gloom: “To save pore Marqueduc—take it!” CHAPTER IX. FACING THE HANGMAN’S NOOSE. Little by little Harry Marqueduc was rallying from the stupefying blow which a cruel fate had dealt him, and though his wits were still far from being as keen and clear as usual, a gleam of light seemed to be working through those ugly storm-clouds. Something of this change was no doub due to the coming of his old-time friend and companion, Hugh Eddlong, whose cheery tones and bold assertions were still echoing in his ears. Then, too, a lull had come over the ex cited crowd. With violent passions spen in good part, that crowd had gradually, dissolved and melted away, until but remnant iingered in the immediate vi cinity of the jail. Now and then a brutal cry was to b heard, but as a rule those savage cries for human blood had died away inte nothingness. The armed guard, which had _ beer chosen mainly by Seneca Spottsround were still on duty in front of the cala boose, although even they seemed to be growing careless, as though feeling thei: office a mere sinecure. Once or twice, as he peered through that heavily-barred window, Harry Mar- dueduc caught (or so fancied) a glimpse of Chonesta, the Cherokee, with his Winchester; but Black Dog was far too shrewd to make his presence obtrusive in the absence of the Happy-go-lucky Sport. ! ‘ Retreating to the rear of his rude prison, Marqueduc seated himsélf upom the stool which had been provided for that purpose, elbows on knees and face — Provided, of course, that his —
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sunken in joined palms, as he brooded | bitterly over the recent past. Try as he might, the poor fellow could not make out how that fatal wound had been inflicted. He knew that his hand had not dealt the blow. He knew that, though the; deadly weapon itself may have belonged | to him, as claimed, the blade had not! been upon his person when that un- fortunate encounter began. Where he had mislaid the knife, or how long since he had lost it, was be- yond his powers of recalling, as yet. All he knew was just that: no knife had been in his belt, no such blow was dealt by hand of his! Was it an accident? Had poor Miles found and, recognizing ' the weapon, kept it for the rightful own- er? And then, maddened by the vile poison he had swallowed, had he drawn that blade instead of his own, to fall upon it the next moment? Unlikely as all this seemed, Marqueduc could not find any more plausible in- terpretation for that ugly. mystery. For, surely, none other could have come nigh enough to drive that weapon so surely home, yet come and go unseen and un- heard by them both? How else could it have happened? And then, striving his level best to clear his whirling brain in order to solve the black enigma, Harry Marqueduc thought of first one and then another, searching memory for an enemy ruth- less enough to have planned a double assassination. For that was what it all would amount to; poor Miles to perish by the blade, himself following closely after—by the hangman’s noose! . Marqueduc gave an audible groan at this hideous reflection, shivering like one afflicted by an ague-fit. And yet he was far from being a physical coward. | It was bad and bitter enough to know that grim death was hovering over his head, but to come in that shameful shape was far worse! Anything but that! Any- thing rather than pass from life with such a hideously lothsome badge as that! With an almost fierce effort the ac- cused, once again brought his emotions under control, thinking—thinking—striv- ing to catch and fasten down the ugly truth. “Who did it? Who hates us both bit- terly enough to—I wonder if—could it be either of—of—” His muscles tightened as Harry Mar- queduc came to this point. Could it be possible that either Spottsround, father or son, had taken advantage of that un- fortunate quarrel to thus deal a doubly- edged blow at them, the partners of the Homestake? Again and again the young man men- tally vowed that it could not be: that he surely. was losing what little store of wits the awful blow had left him; and still his suspicions would persist in cen- tering sbout those two: Seneca Spotts- round and his son, Jasper! He recalled how eager the capitalist had been in his efforts to purchase the Homestake, or at least a share in the mine, since the grand vein had been fairly developed. Going further back, he remembered how bitterly Mr. Spottsround opposed his suit for the hand of Milly Fickeson, the mine-owner’s ward. That was before the Homestake was known as anything better than a fair prospect, and while both pards had a tough fight to make their way in this world: more than once going to their rude bunks with hollow stomachs through pure lack of necessary food! And then—Milly was rich in her own right! And Jasper—ugh! Red-haired, freckle-faced, wide-lipped, an ungainly scion from the family tree, Jasper Spottsround had, not so many months gone by, tried all he knew to “cut him out,” not a little to the fair Milly’s annoyance. True, Jasper had passed it all off as but Eee eee eee ooo Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. —$—$—$—$_$$—————— a careless jest, turning elsewhere as he backed by living fire. “Say you will, laughingly avowed; but— | ; Harry, and I’ll make an opening if it “JT know the old man would rather, takes a leg off!” have it come that way, and while Polly Gannett is all right in her way, Milly is—” So far the prisoner’s thoughts had car- | } Surely Jasper Spottsround was in deep earnest? And yet, curiously enough, that very: eagerness went far toward defeat- ing his purpose, since it served to stir ried him, that vague suspicion gaining} afresh those ugly suspicions in Marque- strength and coherency with each pass-| duc’s brain. ing minute; but now a low-pitched voice came to Marqueduc’s ears, causing him to lift head and glance quickly in that direction. Instinct told him the sound came from the barred window, and as his eyes turned that way, Harry caught sight of a face pressed close to the hars from without; a face which drew a low, almost fierce cry from his lips as he started to his feet. By the dim rays of the oil-lamp he rec- ognized the man who now gave an eager nod; one of the twain with whose possible guilt his brain had been so busy but a brief while before. “You, is it, Jasper Spottsround?” he exclaimed, almost unwittingly moving that way. “Hist! not too loud, old man!” swift- ly warned the one without, head partly turning, as though fearing something yonder in the night-gloom. “Come this way; closer, Harry!” “What do you want with me, Spotts- round? ” Somehow that appearance, just when his suspicions were centering in that very quarter, seemed to confirm his ugly doubts, and ’twas with a very forbidding frown that Marqueduc drew nearer that window. Possibly the dim light hindered Jasper from noting this expression, or he may have been too strongly excited himself to give it proper interpretation; be that as it may, he spoke as though his dear- est wish just then was to aid and pro- tect this wrongfully imprisoned friend. “Closer, lad! No saying how long those fellows will let me talk, but while I am, let—brace up, Harry! You're worth a dozen dead men yet, and we’ll fight for your life as long as there’s a apark of hope left!” “What do you want with me, Jasper Spottsround? ” “T know what'd suit me best: to have you out of that in a holy hurry, old man! I know—and you’ve just got to make a break, too!” ““Make a break?” echoed the prisoner. “That’s right! I say, Harry?” “Go on, can’t you?” Young Spottsround flashed an uneasy look to his rear, like one who dreads being overheard by less friendly ears, then pressod a bit closer to those rusty bars, speaking in a husky whisper: “T hate to say it—hate like sin to have to say it, lad! But the honest fact is— just like this: There’s fresh trouble brewing, and if we can’t contrive to foolish ’em some way, you'll sup sor- row, sure!” In spite of those haunting suspicions this real or apparent earnestness on his behalf had its effect upon Marqueduc, and as he just then caught a distant yell to remind him of the fate which had once before seemed fairly claiming him, he spoke in altered tones: “ What sort of trouble, Jasper? What do you mean?” As though in answer to that very ques- tion, some ruffian cried from out the night: “Lynch him! The rope for Harry, Mar- queduc!”’ “You hear that, don’t you, lad?” swiftly muttered Spottsround, with an- other uneasy glance over his shoulder. “The devil’s abroad this night, and there’s only one way for you to cheat the rope; make a break for your life and lie low under snug cover until this nasty, storm can blow over your head!” “ Make a break; how can 1 do that?” “Wilt you, then?” with increased eagerness, his eyes glowing as though i “Show me how, first,” he said, coldly. “Good! Ill come back, as though with a message from Rockweed. I'll de- mand admittance, and then you’ll make a break past me. I’ll help, while seem- ing to hinder, and then—” His eager speech was cut short by a harsh laugh, from which he shrunk as from an actual blow in the face. “Oh you’re too infernally’ kind, Spottsround!” rudely declared Harry. “T don’t—what do you mean by that, Marqueduc? ” “What do I mean? Just this, Jasper Spottsround: If die I must, I'll perish like a white man, not like a runaway assas- sin! Ill never give you or your pals a fair chance to damn me all over, as I fee]l—’”’ “Are you gone crazy, man alive?” “Nor turned fool, \please heaven!” came the swift retort. “Then why. do you--hark!” as omin- ous sounds rose upon the night air, sure- ly drawing nigher that point. Loud yells and shouts were mingled with savage speech; words and even sen- tences coming to their ears as they lis- tened, telling plainly of lawless violence, of lynch-law where at least one other life was to pay dire forfeit! Jasper Spottsround gave a husky cry as of despair, but even yet he persisted, begging Marqueduc to catch at the last frail hope for life. Then astern warning came from those left as guardians over the accused, bidding Jasper rack out o’ that, under dire penalty. “‘T hoped to help—too late for that, but —all eyes open, old man!” hurriedly spoke the young fellow, as he drew away, lest worse might follow insubordination just then, Those parting words made scant im- pression upon Marqueduc, just then, for those ugly sounds more nearly filled the air, and a red glow made itself visible from where he stood, close to that barred window. He saw a number of rough-garbed men rushing that way with blazing torches, and knowing now that the crisis had come, he shrunk back from the window, pale as death and shivering violently. Yet he listened with painfully strained ears to what followed; to those rushing, trampling feet, those savage yells and curses and awful threats. And then, like one in a waking dream, he knew that the blood-thirsty mob was at the jail itself, hustling away the armed guard; and he caught his breath with a gasp as he failed to hear even one shot fired in his defense! Then th door was violently dashed open, to admit a number of armed men, the foremost of whom bore a rope ready noosed for its victim. Given courage to meet his impending doom like a man, Harry Marqueduc stood with folded arms and proudly erect form, to hear the harsh command: “ Ready, critter! Rockweed’s dead an’ hyar’s your last sickness!” CHAPTER X. HEADLONG HUGH TAKES THE BAIT. Seneca Spotisrvuud played his part to perfection, as might have been expected, seeing how thoroughly he was prepared for that happening. ; While making sure the Happy-go-lucky Sport saw how that note came into his possession, he took pains to step quickly in such manner as to shield the dis- guised messenger for the instant, giving an ejaculation of admirably couniter~ feited surprise. 4 Feb “To save—I don’t—who was it, any- ise Miare
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Heedlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. way?” the capitalist spluttered, wheel- | mine-owner. ing to stare in the direction taken by that muffled shape. There was naught to be learned from that quarter, however. vanished from their sight, and even if| either man had taken such thought, *’twould have been worse than useless to run after him. “What is it? What'd he give you?” eagerly demanded the sport, reaching forth a hand to take possession of that decoy note, “TI don’t—what could he have meant, anyway?” asked Spottsround, bewild- eredly, following as Eddlong hurried toward the nearest light. ‘“ He said something about saving poor Marqueduc, but—eh? ” P The sport paused close to a saloon window, bending head to read those few rudely scrawled words, giving a low cry as he mastered their meaning, as it showed on the surface. “See what you make out of it, sir,” said the sport, holding the bit of paper where his present companion could catch fair sight of the pencil-marks. “If I really reckoned—what do you say?” Mutteringly Seneca Spottsround pro- nounced those words, then looked up to meet those vividly glittering) eyes. A brief silence, then he said: “A hundred? I’d gladly give ten thou- sand to save the poor lad!” “Them you really think there’s—it isn’t a dirty scheme to get us both out of the way while those devils jump the jail?” This was precisely what Spottsround was expecting, and he had, prepared his answer in advance. r “ Does it look reasonable? The crowd has simmered down, and all is growing quiet. They’ve got my word—you heard me give it. No, that point don’t bother me in the least, and if I knew this meant honest business—”’ “You can’t place the fist, then? Who was it gave you the paper?” “T couldn’t make that out, either. Somebody who didn’t wish his identity known when we caught the real assassin —if we ever do!” Eddlong gave a fierce grow) at this doubt. “We will. I’ve sworn to do just that. And now—are you going along?” “Am I—whither? ” “What does it say here: to the Blow- out workings. That is—” “TI know. Played out mine, where— but that don’t matter.. If you really think—and it may be on the dead level, too!” Seneca Spottsround shrewdly reasoned that the bait would be rendered all the more effective by a bit of shyness on his own part; nor was he wrong. Eddlong made an impatient gesture as he moved away from that lighted win- dow, then speaking in low, stern tones: “‘Tt’s a chance, anyway, and I'd risk a touch of hell itself to serve Harry Marqueduc, now he’s in such sore need of backing. I’m going over to the Blow- out workings; will you come along?” “No!” decided the capitalist, only that gloom concealing the evil glow with which his eyes were now filled, The two men had passed fairly out of light into shadow, and just there none were nigh enough to take particular note or to give them any disturbance, “No!” echoed the sport, halting angry surprise. “I thought—what you mean, anyway, Spottsround? ” “What do you mean, rather? Surety you are not giving credit to that stuff? It’s such a silly joke that I took it for granted you saw through it from the start.” “You call it-a joke? Why, pray?” “Because they’ve already caught the real—pecause poor Harry himself used that knife on Rockweed!” “That’s a lie, if you do say it, sir! Harry never cut Miles; I’ll go my very life on that!” in do “TI only wish "twas so,”’ sighed the | eae ee ee See | “T only wish we could prove him innocent before the whole world!” “ Then why not test this chance?” The fellow had demanded the sport, tapping the decoy- note, which he produced for the purpose of pointing his meaning. Spottsround tock the paper and pre- tended to look at the words written thereon. Foiled by the gloom, he pocket- ed the note, then spoke again: “ Because I believe ’tis either a clumsy joke or a malicious fraud. Because I can’t see why we should run ’way off yonder to learn what might have been whispered right here, if ’twas worth the hundred chucks!” “Well, I believe it’s a chance worth looking into. I’m going out yonder to learn for sure,’”’ declared the sport. “All right. 700d luck attend you, sir,” coolly wished the capitalist, as he turned away with shrug of shoulders; only to be halted by a heavy hand fall- ing upon one of his shoulders. “Wait a bit, please, my dear fellow,” spoke the sport. “What for? What do you mean by—” “Well, now, don’t you know, I’d heap sight rather you went along to keep me company,’ blandly answered Headlong Hugh, white teeth gleaming out of. the gloom which surrounded the twain. ENOL. “Yes! you?” Very smoothly came these words, and the hand of the Happy-go-lucky Sport fell away from that shoulder; but ’twas only to draw a revolver and hold the weapon where Mr. Spottsround could not well avoid seeing it and reading all that movement implied. The capitalist flinched perceptibly, but only for a moment; longer than that might possibly have invited actual vio- lence, and that was more than this cun- ning trickster wished for. Rallying as by an effort, Seneca Spotts- round spoke curtly: “All rignt, since you’re so set in your wishes, Mr. Eddlong. I'll go along with you—” “T really reckoned you would, after all,” drily quoth the sport. “Yes. I'll go. But if it’s all lost time, don’t find fault with me, please! ” Headlong Hugh seemed content to let it go at that, for nothing further was said on either side while the two men were working clear of Hardpan, head- ing toward the northern hills. But where the brain is so full of Will you walk, or shall I tote thought, the tongue can hardly be expect- ed to remain idle for very long; and so, when once fairly outside the town and well upon their way to the Blow-out workings, Eddlong broke the silence which had reigned for some minutes. “T don’t want you to lay up any sore grudge against me, Spottsround, because I insisted on your coming along.” “Don’t mention it. The tramp’s noth- ing, and I really couldn’t have slept, anyway. This ugly affair has worked me up to such a pitch that I'll hardly get over it for a week!” “ And I—look here, sir,” for a moment facing his companion and making a passionate gesture; then moving on as before, speaking the while. “I'd stake my very soul that Harry Marqueduc never cut his pard in the Homestake!” “TI wish I could feel half your confi- dence, sir!’’ sighed Seneca. “You would if you knew him clear through as well as I do. But, even if I knew the lad had made use of that knife while his head was hot and his reason blinded, still I’d stand to his back through all, against all! ‘*T never was given a brother, sir, but if I had a dozen, I know that the whole bunch couldn’t be dearer to my heart than is this same Harry Marqueduc! And I know— “ He ought to be proud of such an ally, sir!.” “Never mind that part of it. I’m trying to make you see is just this, ‘< Oe eee p. Stace RS it What ot ete de ee ee ne oe ee ee ee eee ee &—™ SO Te much: I hold full faith in my pard, in spite of all that looks so mighty black against his good name right now!” “Then you admit that it does have am ugly look?” “On the surface, yes; but that isn’t saying I think Harry cut his pard—don’t you even begin to think that way, sir!” “What other interpretation can be placed upon the sad affair,.pray?” asked Spottsround, tartly. *T believe it’s all a put-up job to down both Harry and Miles,” doggedly de- clared the Happy-go-lucky Sport, still striding onward at a rapid pace, eager to reach the rendezvous and settle once for all the question in dispute. “‘ Heaven pity the tricksters when the whole truth comes to light, for I’ll show them none!”’ “How, put-up job?” asked Spotts- round, curiously. “To kill the one and hang the other, of course!” A low chuckle, which was full of in- credulity, with a taste of scorn, came from the lips of the mine-owner at this impetuous speecn. ; “ Now you're going past the bounds of reason, my dear fellow,” he said, quickly. “Who could possibly have done the stab- bing, save Harry Marqueduc? ” ““Which he certainly never was guilty of,” declared Eddlong. “Do you believe it was an accident, thea? That Rockweed was hurt in the fall, by a knifé which—well, say, one of them had out?” “Nor that, either. I believe Miles was cut by some person who took advantage of their mixing in a fight, and if I ever find out—” “Oh, come, come, now!” expostulated Spottsround, almost as one might chide a loved but froward child. “ You surely, can’t think that! Why, how could it possibly be accomplished, man, dear?” “Tt sure was accomplished, wasn’t it?”’ * But scarcely after the fashion you describe. Why, just think of it! That wowld infer—who could run up, stab a man, and then run clear away without being seen by either of the pards?” “Only a cunning devil, for a fact; but so it was, and when I find him out, as I surely will—well, Mr. Spottsround, I hope ’twill not fetch crape to your door- handle! ” Seneca Spottsround gave a little start at this, then exploded: “What! Do you mean to insinuate— is this an open insult, sir?” “Only a hint. Take it or leave it, just as you think best. Now—who comes there?”’ drawing revolver and turning sharply at a sound. - CHAPTER XI. ‘SPRINGING THE DEATH-TRAP. Seneca Spottsround ducked and dodged at this abrupt motion, but neither gun nor challenge was meant for him, as he saw the next moment. Without eye or thought for his com- panion, the Headlong Sport took a cou- ple of swift strides toward a clump of shrubbery lying a little to their right, fiercely alert. “Show up or—who is #?” manded, sharply. No answer came in words, but with a (chattering snarl a gaunit wolf broke cover and loped away into deeper shadow. Instantly the sport changed demeanor, for experience told him no human foe could be skulking in that quarter, and as revolver-muzzle dropped at arms’ length he spoke in different tones: “Lying up along his breakfast; eh? Wonder what sort of game he had, all to himself, anyway?” The mine-owner drew a long breath, as of intense relief,.but Eddlong failed to notice that fact, pushing into the bushes to peer and to feel, after a bit coming back with the informaticn: ‘“A fawn: what’s left of it! Lucky devil that I haven’t got a botle of strych- nine along, or he’d surely catch the cramps right where he lived!” he de-
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12 _ Seneca Spottsround laughed aloud, as though these words covered a rare jest, but the fact was his relief was so great as to call for some such outlet. Believing as he did that those keen ‘ears had detected sound or sign of the knaves whom he hoped to meet over at the Blow-out workings, the arch-schemer for those few séconds feared his evil trickery must come to worse than naught. If it effected nothing else, that little incident served to in a measure lighten the gloom which had rested upon the spirits of Happy-go-lucky Hugh, and the two men tramped on at a brisker pace, Eddlong talking now of matters which appertained to the wild life he had led during the past couple of years. Interesting though that certainly was, it has naught to do with the Homestake Pards or their affairs, so the matter may be passed by without further comment. Nothing further happened to interrupt their progress, and seeing his companion glancing keenly around, Spottsround vol- unteered: “We're almost there. Things have grown up and over no little since the boys abandoned the claim, but if ’twas daylight you might see—” “Oh, blame the past and all its be- longings!” brusquely cut in the Happy- go-lucky Sport, looking keenly around while advancing further. “What I’m looking for belongs to the present, or that note lies! Now—hello, you fellow!” Both men stopped short at this call, but mo answer came; nor could they sight aught which looked like a fulfillment of that implied pledge to meet them at the Blow-out workings. Here and there were tokens of the past, when high hopes and wild expecta- tions had nerved the toiler’s arm through many long weeks of varying weather; stumps where trees had been felled to use in bracing shaft or chamber;: rocks thrown aside, dirt and. debris still form- ing a decided dump, over which vines had slowly crawled and around which shrubbery had begun to make quite a showing. S All this to show they had not gone astray in the night, but nothing more human; naught to prove that the rudely scrawled note was sométhing of greater importance than an idle jest. Again the sport awoke those echoes by erying aloud, sending his notes far and wide, then adding words which might be supposed to interest the author of those lines: “Come, pardner! The hundred chucks are ready, and another hundred to boot, if you can show us clear goods! Come, I say!” Seneca Spottsround was making more use of eyes than of tongue, one hand nervously fumbling at his beard the while. More to conceal the malicious smile which insisted on showing itself than aught else, however. Still no response, still no outward showing; and with a fiercely impatient gesture Headlong Hugh turned toward his companion, to say: “You try ’em, pardner! Maybe they'll come to their milk when they know for sure it’s you to the front. Try ‘em, I say! ” The mine-owner gave a shoulder-shrug, as though holding scant faith even in that expedient, but then complied, call- ing out: “Show up, whoever ye may be! It’s a square deal, and if you can show proof to clear Harry Marqueduc, you can name your own price!” “T swear to that same, and the devil himself never knew me to go back on my word when once passed!” supple- mented the sport. A brief pause to~look, listen, expect; but. all in vain. No answering cry was heard, no moving figure was sighted, no sound was heard by those intent ears Save and except the usual ones to be caught at night among the foothills. Eddlong’s growing impatience showed itself in an execration, low and fierce; Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. then he turned to more squarely confront his companion. “What do you make out of it, now?” he demanded. Spottsround shook head and shrugged shoulders. * What can I think of it, faith?” “That’s just what I’m asking you, isn’t it?” Clearly the sport was passing into a dangerous humor, but so far from be- traying uneasiness or personal fear, Seneca Spottsround seemed somewhat inclined to “rub it in,” judging from both tone and words. “Well, Mr. Eddlong, didn’t I say that I more than half believed ’twas all a clumsy fraud from the word go? Didn’t I say ’twas hardly worth investigating? ” Hugh made a savage gesture with clenched fist, his demeanor that of one whose temper was growing dangerous. “Tf I really thought that way—if I caught the devil who—but I don’t believe it, even yet!” *‘Where’s our man, then?” “Maybe he was delayed. Maybe we got here ahead of him. We lost very little time by the way, remember,” sug- gested the sport, yet hardly like one who places full confidence in his own argu- ment. Again that shrug and head-shake, fol- lowed by the words: “JT wish it might pan out to your lik- ing, sir, but—I hope it means nothing worse than a clumsy jest!” “Bh? You hope—what is it you’re driving at, Spottsround?” sharply de- manded Eddlong, one big hand flying out to clutch an arm. The capitalist shrunk as though in pain, giving a low ejaculation as a hand closed over those steel-like fingers. “ Let up, man! I’m only flesh and blood, while you—that’s a most infernal grip of yours, Eddlong!”’ “Beg your pardon. I wasn’t thinking. I’m so uneasy over poor Harry and this infernal cutting mystery that I—you started to say?”’ “ Well, of course I may be ’way off in my fancy, but since we can’t find aught of this note-writing rascal I’ve been thinking—” “What?” “ Wheth r or no it mightn’t be a cun- ning scheme to get us both well out of and away from town, so that the lads might—eh?” “Might what? you, sir!” “Play horse with poor Marqueduc, then,*since you will have it so!” “Lynch him, you mean?” “Yes. Of course, neither you nor I would stand quietly by while a mob was turning any such foul trick, and so —of course, I’m trying to keep from thinking that’s just the way of it all, but now—you understand?” Without waiting for an answer to his decidedly uneomfortable suggestion, Sen- eca Spottsround turned abruptly away from the sport, lifting a curved palm to his lips and crying aloud-once more for their mysterious communicant to show himself in the open. More than ever uneasy now that this dread (which had already come to his own mind) was put into plain words, Hugh Eddlong bent head in hearkening for a few seconds. No response was forthcoming, and with a fiercely impatient gesture the Happy-go-lucky Sport shifted his own station, springing lightly up that dump, to pause again when near its head, to look keenly around in quest of that author. He saw only the mine-owner, whose face was turned his way at that moment, but who moved on a little further to repeat his call. With the selfsame result, and despair grew deeper in that manly heart, as Eddlong himself turned slowly about for a prolonged, close, and thorough scrutiny of their present surroundings. Not far from where he stood now was Out with it, confound the open mouth of what had once seemed the entrance to an independent fortune; the shaft by means of which the Blow- out Pards confidently expected to reach wealth beyond easy computation. Giving this but a glance in passing, Hugh looked beyond, and was about ut- tering another cal] to the unknown, when a sharp, peculiar cry from Spottsround caused him to whirl swiftly. He caught an indistinct glimpse of the mine-owner, but, ere he could divine what could have gone wrong, the death- trap was sprung in good earnest! A dark shape leaped forth from the bushes close to his rear, striking as it came, meaning nothing less than abso- lute murder! The sport unwittingly saved himself in part, taking a step in the direction of the capitalist, and so receiving that fierce blow on the shoulder, as well as head. Still, the shock proved heavy enough to destroy his balance, especially as a bit of dirt gave way under his foot, sending him reeling awkwardly back toward the open mouth of that deserted shaft. “Down, ye devil!” snarled his assail- ant, striking again as he followed up his vantage. “ Down to—ha!” With a wild ery which came invol- untarily from his lips as he felt himself falling, Hugh Eddlong toppled over back- ward, vainly striving to save himself and at the same time pluck his revolver from his belt. His assailant slipped and fell at the same instant, a loose stone turning under his weight and sending him back down the head of the dump into the very cover out of which he had sprung when he saw that broad back turned his way. All this Spottsround saw from where he stood while giving the signal for springing that cunningly baited death- trap. " He held not the slightest doubt as to the good werk done by his henchman, for even ut that distance he caught the ugly sound as heavy club came in con- tact with skull; but, when he glimpsed that human tool falling as well, a cry of fierce amaze burst from his lips and he sprung forward in that direction. “Hello, Dick!” he cried, sharply, as he came. “ Have you got him, all right?” “You bet I just did!” yelled back the young thug, as he recovered his balance and scrambled out of those bushes. “Cracked his cabeza like a rotten gourd, and then—” “Look out, hothead! ’-fiercely warned: Spottsround, as he saw his henchman pushing forward once more. “If he has half a show—” “ Don’t you fool yourself, boss!” called back Tate, moving closer to the shaft and leaning that way as he added: “ He’s gone down to see—” That sentence was never completed. The young thug leaned over the mouth of the abandoned shaft to peer down- ward, thinking possibly to sight or hear something of his victim; but, instead of that, a ruddy glare lit up the darkness below for an instant, a pistol-shot rung forth upon the night air, and with an unearthly screech of rage and pain Dick Tato flung up his arms and_ reeled drunkenly; then, as the dirt crumbled under his weight, he fell! CHAPTER XII. A COLD-BLOODED SCOUNDREL. All this took- place before the eyes of Seneca Spottsround, causing him to stop short in his advance, fairly chilling his blood for tke instant. He heard the shot, the cry; he saw that reeling shape, and took note of its fall; then he heard the horrid screech as Dick Tate slipped with the crumbling dirt fairly into the mouth of the Blow- out shaft! A brief pause through amazement, then Spottsround hurried forward, yet paus- ing within a few feet from that fatal spot. From there he could see sufficient for
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his purpose—could see that neither Edd- long nor Tate remained above ground; | and he was far too shrewd a rascal to | ly toward the dump, slackening pace as wittingly expose his body to another; he reached its lower edge, then advanc-j such vengeful shot. Barely long enough to make sure that Dick Tate had plunged down into the shaft, and that the Happy-go-lucky Sport was likewise invisible, then Spotts- round beat a hasty retreat. Just in time, too! Another of his knaves was uponthe spot, eager to finger the blood-money offered by the capitalist, yet dastard enough to realize that far safer quarters might be gained through brisk employ- ment of his legs. “Stop, you cur!” commanded Spotts- round, as he came almost into collision with the retreating Ginger -Chump. “Where are you going?” *Arywhar out o’ the range o’ them— didn’t ye see how Dick done ketche@it, right in the neck, boss? ” Ginger paused, to utter these words, long enough for one of those white hands to close upon his nearest arm, viciously. jerking him back, as the frightened knave essayed to make his flight good. “ Go easy, you fool!”’ harshly muttered the capitalist, all the -while keeping a keen watch upon the dump, one hand gripping revolver-butt in readiness to call that weapon into play should Head- long Hugh make his reappearance near the shaft. “But, boss! ” “Steady, I say! Can’t you see just how it stands, Chump? We've gone too far to falter, now, and if we don’t make a clean job out of this business, we’r¢ gone—just as surely as poor Dick is!.” Ginger shivered afresh at that allusion, but he was no idiot, and so quickly be- gan to realize how much they had at stake. A few words further on the part of his employer served to in goodly measure stiffen the rascal’s .backbone, and then there were two revolvers keeping close guard over yonder dump. Only the one shot. Only that wild screech of horrid fear and utter despair. Nothing else came from yonder death- trap to tell those anxious watchers just how the situation now stood. “Whar you done reckon the pizen critter kin be, boss, aryway?” ventured Ginger Chump, after a few minutes thus spent. “Careful! Don’t make a sound loud enough to. pass further than my ears,” warned Spottsround, in a low mutter. “Then you raally reckon—the sport hain’t plum dead, yit?”’ “T wish I knew!” “How: we gwine to find out?” “Wait a bit longer. Surely, if he is alive and able, he will show up sooner or later! And then—shoot to kill, Gin- ger!” “Wou bet I will, boss! Only—” “Only what?” ““ Wish’t I hed a solid rest fer my pesky gun! Durned ef I ever knowed it to weigh so tarnal heavy, nur to hey the wobbles so woundedly! ” “Bah! You’re turning coward, Gin- ger!” ; “Waal, I hain’t sayin’ that’s a liew boss, fer mebbe—aryhow, I done wish’t was all over!” After waiting a minute or two longer without seeing or hearing aught from the sport, Spottsround whispered further to his fellow: : “You keep a dead aim on the dump Ginger. I’m going to sneak over yonder and see what I can find out. Under- stand?” “ Ef you done ketch a blue pill, boss?” timidly suggested Chump. “Tll guard against that. Whether alive or dead, the sport is down the shaft and can’t catch the drop without I stick head over the hole; and you can rest assured I’ll never play the fool quite so far as all that comes to. Now—don’t _mistake me for Eddlong and pink me from behind, Ginger!” i With this half-jesting, half-earnest warning, Seneca Spottsround stole silent- ing, foot by foot, inch by inch, almost, listening intently all the while. Richt hand gripped revolver-butt, ready to bring that weapon into play at a moment’s warning; but no sight of ene- my greeted his advance, Nor did a sound come to his strained senses until—ha! A hollow groan! That almost surely came from out yonder Shaft, but—through whose lips? Was it-from sport or from thug? Was it friend or enemy? There seemed no method of learning this, unless he should actually ascend Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. the dump, and, exposing himself over the | mouth, ask for an answer. Of course that was out of the question | under present circumstances, and, after pausing right there until a second hol- low, indistinct moan came drifting to his ears on the silent air, Seneca Spotts- round beat a retreat to the spot where he had left Ginger Chump on guard. “What is it, boss?” asked that knave, anxiously. “Well, one of the pair is still alive,” frankly admitted the mine-owner. “I heard him groan as though badly hurt; but, which one?” “That's what! Ginger Chump. “Not that it matters much which one,” coolly declared his master, still keeping watch and ward over yonder dump, al- though ke felt pretty well convinced that there was little danger to be appre- hended from that quarter, as matters now stood. * Not—eh? ’” “That’s right, Ginger. If your head wasn’t thick as a pine-knot and just as dense, you’d begin to see as much long ere this,” “Waal, mebbe I’m a sort o’ fool, boss, but ef so, I was bornded that way, which lets me out o’ blame,” bluntly spoke the knave. you wouldn’t mind sort o’ lettin’ me know jest which is what, an’ whyfo’?” Which one?” echoed | An’ sech happenin’ so, mebbe | 13 Pointing to a ragged bit of rock which had been blasted out of the shaft long ago, he bade his henchman pick it up and throw it into the mouth. Ginger Chump shrunk back like one dismayed, but the next instant a revolver was covering him and Seneca Spotts- round was speaking in low, harsh tones: “Do it, you fool! You’re as deep in the mud as I am in the mire, and I don’t mean to leave an opening for you to sneak out of. Do it, I say, or—would you rather chew lead?” “No, no, don’t—I’ll—holy smoke! ” Ginger Chump picked up the rock, staggering a pace or two up the slope until he could roll the rock into the mouth of *he shaft, his fear-depleted powers proving unequal to the _ task, otherwise. With the ice thus broke, it was far easier to direct his further movements, and not until they had together cast a full dozen rocky missiles down the shaft did Seneca Spottsround call a satisfied halt. He felt confident that no spark of life could be left in either friend or foe after this storm of stones, yet he never set foot upon the bare ground of the dump; possibly a single trace thus left might give him future trouble! Giving Ginger a sign to follow at his heels, the arch-villain turned away from that double death-trap, meaning to fin- ish the evil work which had been so vilely begun. “Twas a mighty nasty job, Ginger,” he said, in. low tones, “ but one that we couldn’t slight after first taking hold. You see that, don’t you?” “Waal, boss, I don’t know, but—ha! What’s that, yender? ” “ Listen!” cried Spottsround. ‘“ That means death to Harry Marqueduc!” CHAPTER XIil. A SCOUNDREL’S CUNNING. Faint and indistinct through distance, yet unmistakable for all that, the sounds of firearms in irregular explosion came floating on ‘the night air, as the two “We've gone too far to beat a retreat; knaves turned faces quickly in the di- now, Ginger. job of it, or else suffer the penalty; and even a fool ought to guess what that, Seneca Spottsround amounts to!” “That spells rope, boss?” “Sure thing! Now—like this: One of those fellows has life enough left in him to groan right smart. must be wiped out. If Dick Tate—well, he’s almost as dangerous to both you and me, though it may be after a different fashion, Chump.” * Jest how, boss?” “Like this: If found in yonder with We've got to make a sure/ rection of Hardpan. The solution was am easy one, and called out thus through a fierce triumph rather than with an idea of conveying information to his present companion. Past all doubting lively times were If the sport, he| having at Hardpan, and as he Hstened Ginger Chump gave a long sigh. “Wish’t I was thar! Wish’t I hed stayed thar, ’stead o’ traipsin’ "way out hyar fer to—an’ Dicky done ketched it right in the neck!” “As he should, for making such a bog- life left in him, and the sport for com-'| gle of an easy job!” sharply declared pany, wouldn’t Dick blow the gaff? Of course he would make a clean breast of it, and that would knot a rope for our necks. So—something like this, Ginger!” As he spoke, Seneca Spottsround put away his revolver, picking up a large stone instead. With this in hands, he stole silently toward the dump, pausing only a few feet away from the abandoned shaft to calculate the distance and weight; then, to the momentary horror of the gaping thug, he tossed the heavy missile fairly into that opening! A brief silence—then a choking scream eame up from the trap of death! Swift as thought itself the heartless scoundrel picked up stone after stone from the edge of the dump, tossing one after another into the opening, laughing aloud as he heard dull, indistinet sounds come from out those gloomy depths. His first fury satiated in a goodly measure, Seneca Spottsround turned that way and called to Ginger Chump. The fellow came slouching forward, plainly a bit off his usual balance through such unlooked for events; but the master had no mercy to spare for the man. . } / the capitalist. “ With every show in the world given him, why, couldn’t he down the sport in a gentlemanlike man- ner?” Ginger Chump cast an uneasy glance toward ‘the old shaft, almost as though he was expecting a bloody apparition to come floating up out of those ugly depths. “He wanted the job, did Dicky. He ‘lowed he jest hed to take it onto him- self, “long of the sport makin’ a plum’ monkey out o’ him, back thar to Big Sandy’s. An’ so—it’s the devil’s own luck, boss!” “ Well, it might have been worse, Gin- ger,” declared the mine-owner. But Chump was not to be so readily consoled. While words favored his mate, thoughts and fears certainly turned more nearly toward his own condition, and when he spoke again more of the truth came out. “’Course it cain’t matter a heap to Dicky, sence he’s pritty nigh past keer- in’ whether school keeps or not; but fer us—fer me, eh?” Seneca Spottsround nodded, under- standingly. . “ You've got to have a good alibi ready ‘
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14 Headlong Hugh, the M an-to-Tie-To. . . | . against accidents, of course, Chump, but | chuckle, as a man might who sees a rare that will be easy enough.” “ How?” “ Listen!” with a nod toward distant Hardpan, where the disturbance © still kept up, after a fashion. “‘ What do you suppose can be going on over yonder, Ginger?” “The boys playin’ horse with Marque- duc, isn’t it, boss?” “Well, you were one of those same boys, don’t you remember? And if no- body else happened to take especial notice of you in the gang, those same boys can and will make affidavit that you were one of the foremost in, that pretty little afterpiece. Understand?” Ginger Chump went into a broad grin by degrees, as his sluggish wit found full comprehension, but his employer re- mained solemn enough as to face, star- ing off in the direction of the mining town, yet with eyes which certainly took seant note of what might lie immediate- ly before them. “Waal, now, come to take that sort 0’ squint at it, boss, I do reckon it mought work: work to a t-y, ty, too!” enthusi- astically declared he of the gingery-hued topknot. “T wish ’twas as easy in my case!” suddenly exclaimed Spottsround, mak- ing an impatient gesture as he turned eyes once more toward yonder half-bare dump. “The boys would take thar davy quick- er fer you, boss,” began Ginger Chump, only to be cut short by, an impatient gesture. “Not that way, you blind owl! How could I take “part in the lynching after almost fighting to keep his neck shy of the rope?” “Which is what sort o’ gits me; gits me turrible hard, boss!” “ What do you mean by that, Chump?” “They'd ’a’ run him up a tree ’thout the trouble o’ climbin’, right then an’ thar, but you wouldn’t hear.to it. Yit— this way!” The ghost of a laugh bubbled up in Spottsroind’s throat at this, but instead of giving the full explanation which Ginger evidently wished for, he bluntly spoke: “Well, if you can’t see through all that, lad, ’twould be labor wasted trying to get light through that thick skull of yours. So—listen! “Of course I knew that a fellow like Eddlong couldn’t vanish off the stage all at once without having questions asked and curiosity awakened. Of course I knew that all hands wouldn’t believe he racked out of his own accord, so long as his pard was in peril of the rope.” “ An’ yit—durn my sister’s cats ef you hain’t too mighty deep fer the likes 0’ me, boss!” “Indeed! Then I must be a. marvel,” drily mocked the mine-owner; but then, speaking on in smoother accents than he had been using: “You see, Ginger there was hardly time granted us for forming a more elaborate scheme, and this seemed the surest as well as the easiest method out of the woods. ; “1 intended itshould appear to thetown as a case of accidental death, and that’s why I put it right here; the old shaft would come in so mighty handy!” “ An’ now—ef he’s found, won’t they come onto Dicky, too?” “ Almost certainly, and right there lies our worst bother,” frankly admit- ted Spottsround, who apparently had fairly shaped his line of action by now. “But I reckon we can get over that by plenty of trying.” “Waal, boss, right that way.” “Oh, you’re safely provided for, Gin- ger. With the aid of Bulldog and Quinn you can prove a perfect alibi, leaving me to run the rongest chance out this way.” ‘Like which, boss?” I’m tryin’ to hope it Before making definite reply, Seneca Spottsround indulged in a low, dry i jest in prospective. “Another instance of poor dog Tray, Ginger! Poor Eddlong needed help to find the fellow who cut Miles Rock- weed, and I was unfortunate enough to be that assistant. And caught his last sickness, of course I had to come in for a little of the same bad | medicine. See?” Ginger Chump scratched his head with an air of utter perplexity. ‘“‘ Wall, boss, ef I do I do, but ef I do may I be durned ef I do!” he fairly, spluttered, as those glittering eyes seemed to pin him down for an answer of some description. Spottsround chuckled then spoke further: “Call it like this, Chump. When the trouble is found out, as it must be, now, it must all be laid to Dick Tate. [ll swear that he turned the trick, trying to even-up for the sport’s playing horse softly at this, with him over at the Arcade. Under- stand? ”’ “ Alone, boss?” “Of course not, thick-head! He must have had help to best us both, can’t you understand? ” “Then—who’ll them help be? Won’t everybody look right our way, knowin’ that Dicky trained with our crowd?” Ginger Chump was almost painfully in earnest, now, and Spottsround was keen enough to appreciate the full force of his reasoning. Still, it seemed to be the only course left open, and he per- sisted. “Don’t let that fact worry you, old man. Bulldog and Owen will show up prominently enough in yonder little death-dance, and they can carry your reputation along on the same wave. That lets you out, and—well, I only had time granted me in which to recog- nize Dicky, boy!” Ginger subsided, though with reluctant belief, and his cunning mentor spoke further, right hand drawing knife from hiding as he spoke. “Ags for me, ’twill be harder, yet I reckon I can cheek my way through with safety. And as a fair starter—look!” With almost diabolical coolness the mine-owner used knife upon his own head, cutting a long gash through the scalp to the bone, causing his blood to flow freely. Ginger Chump started back with a low ery, much as though he feared his employer had suddenly lost his wits; but Seneca chuckled reassuringly, then add- ing: “Just part of my defense against rope-an-throat disease, old man! Come! I want you to truss me up to yonder tree. Lively, now!” “T don’t—durned ef I kin see what—” stammered the bewildered rough, still shrinkingly. “Act, and let me do the talking,” sternly interrupted Spottsround, moving off in the direction of the tree indicated, blood beginning to fall from head to boly, though as yet none had reached the earth. Like one half-dazed Ginger Chump fol- lowed, but then he was given more light, until the full extent of that cold-blood- ed schemer’s cunning was laid bare to his sluggish comprehension. “Here!” cried the capitalist, as he re- moved coat and tossed it to the foxy- hair2d thug. “ Never mind the damages, but slit that up to make bonds. strong enough to hold fast a fellow of my size. And work lively, too, for there’s a heap of business lying ahead of you still!” While Ginger was thus occupied, Spottsround explained ‘himself further, speaking rapidly yet clearly. “Tt’s pretty much like this, you under- stand, Chump. I was last seen in the sport’s company, and since this little trick has been so badly botched, I’ve got to guard against all points. “That noteill be found in what's left of my coat. Nobody can swear who wrote it; I made sure of so much at the so—when he}! a | what honest send-off. But it’ll bear good witness to motive brought me ’way out here in the sport’s company. See?” “Yes, boss,” hesitatingly. “ But why did ye gouge ye so deep?” “To make it all the more binding, don’t you see?” with another low, brief- lived chuckle. “ That’s where I caught my share of the medicine. I was knocked down, just as Hddlong got his dose. I hadn’t a fair chance to see just who turned the trick, and of all who may ha¥Ve been mixed up in the scrape, I only, recognized Dick Tate. “Tt was more luck than aught else that let me see so much. Dick was try- ing to dump the sport into the shaft, yonder, when I caught sight of them. And just then the sport managed to pull a gun aud fire one shot.” “Durned ef he didn’t, too!” “And that shot carried Dicky down the hole in his company,” added the afth-schemer, showing teeth like a man who really relished the tale he was so boldly, fashioning for the public. * An’ you, boss? ‘Why didn’t they croak you, too?” “T’m coming to that part of it, Gin- ger. I saw so much, then another crack over the head darkened my wits for the time being. When I rallied, ’twas to find myself trussed up—like this—and the rest of the gang out of sight. : “ Not all out of hearing, though, for a voice came from behind this tree, warn- ing me to keep a close lip, and to never even breathe a hint of all I might have seen or heard, under penalty of sudden death! “Of eourse I promised; who wouldn’t? Then they stuck a gag in my mouth; you want to shape one, and that in a hurry, old man! And that was the last I saw or heard of the rascals!” finished the capitalist.’ “You mean it all, boss?” “Of course I do! It’s tough, but I can’t see any, other sure method of smoothing the matter allover. And you: hurry back to town, find Bulldog Beebe, tell him what has happened, and for him o shape search this way in the morn- ng.” “Jest Bulldog, boss? ” “Yes, Leave everything to him, and he’ll know how to act. Now get me up in shape. Make a snug gag while you’re about it. I’m playing for the whole porker, and can’t afford to make any further mistake!” Ginger Chump, awed into silence by, this cool audacity, performed his work with fair precision, leaving his master bound and gagged, helpless to free him- self, and certainly past all danger of suspicion that this could possibly be his own work. The blood was flowing freely over face and neck as Chump took a final view, then stole on tiptoe toward the dump, there to listen for a full minute before turning and stealing off through® the night in the direction of Hardpan, leav- ing both dead and living behind him. CHAPTER XIV. A LYNCHING THAT FAILED. “Hyar’s yer last sickness, critter!” cried the burly, bearded fellow in ad- vance, as he lifted that noosed rope and shook it before that pale, proud, defiant face. “Do yer prayin’ right now, fer ye won’t hev no time when we begin fer to yank ye, tail-on-eend!” The yelling, roaring, crowd pressed forward, some of the leaders bearing torches, whose smoky, flames cast a lurid light over all; others brandishing weapons in keeping with their savage oaths and cries, as though a bloodless hanging would prove all too tame for their maddened passions. Partially prepared though he had bee» for some such move, nevertheless poot Marquedue was taken by surprise when the crisis did come, it burst so swiftly, so completely. A Nor was he the only one caught unm- bloodthirsty
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Headlong Hugh the Man-to-Tie-To. 15 prepared for such a rush; for, unlikely as} caught up the noose and tried to crowd boose, where the flames threatened to it may seem, there were true friends on the outside of the calaboose, who were briskly, if covertly, working in his be- half. Jasper Spottsround fell back from the barred window rather than invite open trouble, his slender figure blending with the shadows until only a keen eye could have kept track of his movements. “Bf them fellers on duty, thar, kin only be ’pended on to do thar duty even hafe-way, lad, I reckon mebbe we mought hev a sort o’ show fer to—they’re comin’; red-hot, too!” ‘ The one who muttered thus was crouching in the gloom not far away from the jail itself, eyes bent upon the front of the building, while his ears were drinking in those ominous sounds coming nearer with each passing mo- ment. A tall, gaunt, raw-boned fellow, whose stooping shoulders, white hair, and lux- uriant beard proclaimed him far past the turn of life; yet, old, as he was, Ga- | briel Gannett could hold up his end in’almost any sort of crowd. “Look at the Injun, Pap!” muttered a slighter shape, which kept close to the | veteran’s side, one hand pointing toward | Black Dog, still on guard as left by his master, gripping rifle as though deter- mined to defend the prisoner to his latest gasp. “Blamed ef I don’t b’lieve he’ll do more fer Harry then the hull guard!” declared Gannett, in similar tones. “ An’ ef he does begin fer to pick trigger, thar’ll be some tall—look!” Both shadows gave start and invol- antary surged forward, but ere they could | even call out in warning, the act of | treachery seemed complete. One of the guards selected mainly by Seneca Spottsround made a quick move toward the half-crouching Cherokee, whose attention was wholly occupied by that approaching storm of human pas- sions, and brought a clubbed revolver dows with cruel forced upon that bowed head. With only the faintest of sounds Black Dog fell to earth like one smitten by a thunderbolt, and a second member of the guard sprung across to lend his com- rade aid. Together they quickly disarmed and bound the redskin, then carried him around the corner of the jail nearest those two crouching shapes, turning back toward the barred door without suspect- ing what keen eyes were taking note of every movement. Louder grew those ominous cries, near- er came the gathering mob on their awful mission; and, knowing that ’twould be worse than folly for any two men to offer open opposition, the secret friends of the accused lay low, watching each step taken with almost breathless in- terest. Then came the rush, and once again their hopes were disappointed. Instead of offering valiant resistance to that lawless mob, the traitors unfast- ened the door, seemingly only too eager to join in that act of misguided ven- geance. “The cowardly curs!” cried the youn- ger member of that faithful pair. “‘There’s only one thing left for us, Pap: to pitch right in when they haul poor Harry out!” “Pitch in goes!” declared the other, creeping forward, knife in hand, to cut those bonds and set Chonesta free. “You kick up little ole h——l, Pap, an’ Tll keer fer the younker best I know how!” Harry Marqueduc had expected at least a brief parley by his armed guard be- fore actual peril could enter those four walls, and the lack of even verbal de- fanse at the door*threw him still fur- ther off his balance for the moment. Still, the young fellow was made of good stuff, and faced his enemies with proud defiance, saying never a word until the burly knave bearing the rope it over his head. Then his pent-up passions bonds, and uttering a low, savage cry Marqueduec struck out swift and true, fist dashing that bearded face back, and with it the rest of the knave. A mad howl burst from the lynchers at this, and the next moment all was confusion, for Harry plunged toward the open door, striking out with both hands, fighting only as a strong man can fight who sees certain death in submission. Torches were dashed aside and flames extinguished in that fierce melee, and the oil-lamp itself was hurled from its | some wild blow, the glass | bracket by breaking in the fall, the oil catching fire from the burning wick, and adding a fresh element to that crazy confusion. A few drops of the burning oil struck one of the lynchers, and he'‘set up a mad yell of fire, plunging crazily toward the door, in which action he was joined by all others. To all this were added the well-directed | efforts of at least three true men on the | into the crowd | outside, some rushing about the door to knock down or tear away the torches which shed Dog, now able to stand dizzily upon his feet, gave forth the thrilling warcry of his ancestors while shooting rapidly into | the air. A mad, crazy scene, for a fact! Then came that rush to clear the jail | through fears of the now flaming oil, and Harry Marqueduc was carried out- | side with the rest, almost without his own voilition. “Now we've got ’em, Pap!” gratingly vowed Jasper Spottsround, as he saw how fortune was veering in their favor. “Down the guards and you sneak off | the sport while I—both together, Gan- nett!” As one man the twain sprung forward | into that confused mass, each one strik- ing hard and. sure as he came within fair reach of the lynchers, who still clung to Marqueduc, in spite of his des- | perate struggles. No second blow was called for, and as those hands tore loose, Jasper shoved Harry aside, while bony hands caught and jerked ‘him swiftly in that same direc- tion, hoping to swing him around the corner of the building before the con- fused lynchers could fairly suspect an organized effort at rescue or even a) break for liberty. Then, trusting all else to his gray- haired partner in that bold adventure, Jasper Spottsround played his part to perfection. Striking viciously at one or two of the lynchers who were nearest the accused, | he lifted his voice to its highest pitch, crying out: “Look out there! Head him off! Don’t let him get away if—stop him, I say!” At the same time he plunged forward, almost directly contrary to the course taken by. Old Gabe and his charge, his wildly excited manner naturally carry- ing attention with him. “This way!” he fairly screeched, as he tore through the confused mass and faced the open, where the shadows of night lay deepest. ‘“ Look! Yonder he goes! Stop him or—come, ye fools! Will ye let him cheat the rope, after all?” “Whar is he? Broke away—gone whar—thar he goes!” Shouts and cries from a full score of throats were curiously blended together just then, and with scarcely an excep- tion the mob rushed in crazy haste after that slender shape, from the lips of which came guiding words at brief in- tervals Without stopping to enquire just what he hoped to gain by taking such action, | it must be admitted that Jasper Spotts- round played his role to perfection, lead- ing the howling mob off on a false scent, leaving only a few of the worse-bewil- dered fellows lingering nigh the cala- broke | a lurid | glow over the wild scene, while Black | | leave Hardparn without a recognized jail. | As for poor Chonesta, he had gone down in that wild rush, knocked out of time for a while, at least. Again and once again did Jasper spur the crowd to greater exertion by. his cries, | now adding the voice of his revolver to the mad confusion, claiming that he could still spot the fugitive, in spite of all his crooks and turns. “This way! Yonder he goes and— | stop, you cur!” he screamed, sending a shot ahead, as though to enforce that j}call. “Here, men! Don’t let him cheat justice! Head him off before—he’s got to hang for bloody-butchering poor Miles Rockweed! ” There is no saying just how long this deception might have been kept up, only for an accident which befell that zealous pursuer. | Jasper tripped on a loose stone, fall- ing heavily to earth, and while he sus- tained no serious injury through the mis- step, he was detained sufficiently, long to permit others in that wild-goose chase to overtake their young leader. Panting, growling, savage of heart as he was heated in body, came Bulldog Ben Beebe, knife in one hand and pistol in the other, glaring viciously around in quest of the man whose life-blood he thirsted for. He failed to sight the fugitive in any direction, and turned with a savage oath upon young Spottsround, who was just | scrambling to his feet after his tumble. “Where is he? Which way did he— speak truth, you whelp! or I'll cut your heart out!” | ‘ Over that way; I last saw him—chase, | you fools!” panted Jasper, in well-coun- terfeited rage, and he himself limped away in the direction indicated. But nothing could be seen or heard of Harry Marqueduc, in spite of their efforts, and again Bulldog Beebe turned toward Jasper, growlingly: “TIT more’n half believe you’ve been playing us double, Jap Spotts—’” Swift as thought Jasper caught the drop, speaking sharply: “Take that back, Bulldog, lead!” | or chew CHAPTER XV. HOW THE ROPE WAS CHEATED. Under that double impulse Harry Mar- queduc was sent nearly to the corner of the jail building before he could realize what was happening, and then, before he could rally or find voice to cry out with, a horny hand was clapped over his mouth while a husky voice spoke close to his ear: ““ Stiddy, lad! holp instid o’ henderin’! like a mice!” | Another hand gripped an arm and hustled him to the corner, then around it, while the bewildered fellow was struggling to free his mouth. This move was greatly helped by the manner in which Jasper Spottsround was splitting the confused crowd, just then, added to the blind flurry which seemed to have fallen over one and all at fall of lamp and cry of fire. Not until then; not until the thickest of the crowd was fought fairly clear of, did Marqueduec recognize his friend in need. “You, Old Gabe?” he panted, hoarse- ly, freeing his lips. “Keerful, lad!” hastily warned the veteran, urging his charge along as rap- idly as might be. “ Ef them devils ketch on we're both gone suckers in a holy minnit! Ef we cain’t—this way, blame / ye, boy!” I'll save ye ef ye’ll on’y Come! Now— This with a touch of fierce impatience, for Harry Marqueduc was hanging back in place of hurrying away, trying to join that wild-eyed mob, rather than leave them for good and all. Then the shrill tones_of Jasper Spotts- round mcde themselves heard above the tumult, and as he led by far the greater
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© gee PP ae Lr SES HTS 16 portion of that life-seeking mob away on | a wild-goose chase, Old Gabe Gannett was given time and space in which to make a more effective appeal. “Come, lad! Ef ye hang now, ye’ll never be able fer to cl’ar up yer record, don’t ye see? Come! Hide now, fight later on, when ye got somethin’ like a show!” “Listen! That young devil is—let me face Jap Spottsround until I can—” “You’re foolish, man; plum’ foolish!” angrily muttered the veteran, as he fair- ly forced his obstinate charge into mo- tion again. ‘“‘ The boy is holpin’ ye bet- ter’n ary other livin’ critter could do this holy minnit, an’ when ye—-come, I say! Want mé to pull hemp, too?” The mad roar of yells, curses, howls, . and confused threats was drifting rap- idly away under the stars, and half- forced by the old hunter, Harry Mar- queduc moved on, pausing again when at the rear of the calaboose. That frontier convenience was built more for the accommodation of bibu- lous miners or stray cowboys who might feel inclined to set up a free show of his own with throat and pistol, rather than for the safe holding of desperate criminals, The ground sloped a little from the front, and the rear of the calaboose was raised a couple of feet on cornerstones shaped by the hand of nature. The opening which was thus left, had been protected by boards set upright, one end driven into the ground, the other nailed to the stringer above. One of these boards had been torn away, leaving a narrow hole, barely large enough for a human being to crowd in at; and here Old Gabe almost shoved the fugitive through, himself quickly following, then blockading the entrance with the same board which his hands had removed for their express accom- modation. After all, only a couple of minutes had passed since the lynchers made their rush for the accused, and their mis- guided yells and howls were still plain- ly audible when Marqueduc and his sturdy friend found that dark refuge. “Lord o’ love—jest hear to ’em all, will ye?” mumbled Old Gabe, as he fastened a precautionary hand upon Harry’s arm there in the gloom, “ Ain’t he a corker, jest? An’ you—tuck him fer a ginooine lyncher, didn’t ye, now, boy? ” “He suid—you heard him call for my life! ” “Jest to foolish the gang, don’t ye see? Ef’t hedn’t bin jer Jep, yender, by this time you'd be goin’ up a tree ’thout climbin’; yes, ye jest would, now!” “He said—lI’ll face him down before the whole town!” fiercely declared the accused, those damning words still haunting his brain. ‘“‘ Let up, old man! I don’t care to hurt you, but—let me face Jap Spottsround before he can—hark to that, will ye?” Another shot or two; a vicious yell from heated throat; a harsh vow to make the vile assassin pull hemp. “Hang him, boys! Killed poor Rock- weed—Miles dead and—hang the bloody butcher! ” Coming marvelously ¢éistinct, consid- ering the distance, almost every word recognizable, even as the voice itself was known to those straining ears. Harry Marqueduc gave a low, angry cry at this, but his companion chuckled as though in high delight, while still barring that narrow exit. “Lord above! don’t he kerry it off like he was—” “Let me pass, you.old idiot!” harsh- ly growled Marqueduc, fastening grips upon the hunter and striving to shove him aside. “I'll never—I’d rather hang like a white man than skulk from such an infernal liar and scoundrel as Jap Spottsround is proving himself right now!” “Stiddy, lad! Cain’t you never ketch ‘on? Jap’s jest foolishin’ the crowd, an’ | double-times-over reskin’ his very life to save your neck from the rope! He is —I give ye my honor, Marqueduc.” “What? You don’t—you can’t mean that? ” For the first time since that queer hustle began Harry seemed to compre- hend as well as hear. For the first time an inkling of the strange truth forced itself through the mental mist which had held possession ever since that luck- less affray with his partner in the Home- stake. “Which is jest what,” emphasized the old man. “Honest to heaven, young feller! Hope may die ef Jap isn’t— hark!” Again that ominous cry of fire made itself heard from without, and as they listened both old man and young could distinguish the scent of burning oil and scorching wood. “Look!” mumbled Marqueduc, point- ing toward the center of the heavy. plank flooring over their heads. ‘“ Fire, for a fact! : “Wall, now, I’ll be etarnally—blame the luck! ” *T smell kerosene! , They’ve set fire to the jail, or else—maybe the lamp was knocked down and—we’ve got to get out of this, Gannett!” “Stiddy, lad! Cool an’ easy counts the biggest,” warningly mumbled the veteran, although the cries of fire sound- ed louder and more alarming as other voices seemed to join that which had first attracted their attention that way. “The hole shell is ablaze—can’t you see?” uneasily whispered Marqueduc, as- sailed by a fresh fear for his life. ‘“ We can’t stop here much longer. We'd roast like rats in a hole! And—the whole town’ll come on a keen jump!” “Thar’s heaps o’ time yit,” more com- posedly muttered the veteran, as he put aside that board and thrust forth his nead for a cautious look around, ‘“ The fire’s jest ingide, an’ thar. hain’t no great—come on, then, younker! ” Not until fully satisfied that the coast was clear, and that all attention was confined to the front of the calaboose, would Gannett consent to move; but then he acted with swift decision. Slipping aside as soon as his gaunt figure fairly cleared that narrow hole, ~ whispered as Marqueduc followed after: “Keep low down an’ make tracks fer them bresh, yender, lad! Don’t stop ef ary critter should hail ye. Make a break fer kiver, an’ head fer my ole shack ef arything should hender me from keepin’ step with ye. Onderstand, now?” “All right. We'll see it through in company, though! ” So responding Harry Marqueduc left the jail and glided swiftly away towara the cover indicated by his ally, and as no cry or shot came to tell of recognition, Old Gabe was not long in following that example. Wien safely under cover, both men halted for a brief look backward, using ears as well. They saw the calaboose had fairly caught from that broken lamp and s@at- tered torches, and knew that nothing short of a miracle could save that struct- ure from complete destruction. “Let ’er rip! ’’ muttered Gabriel, with a grim chuckle. “It hedn’t ought to be putt to a decent use after sech a ’tarnal lie es holdin’ you fer bloody murder, boy! ” “ Then you don’t—you believe me guilt- less, Mr. Gannett?” asked Harry, in husky, uncertain tones, as his gaze came away from house to face, hands gripping one of those horny-palmed fists. “You bet that’s right, lad! Ef 1 hedn’t, would I be doin’ of all this when —le’s rack out o’ hyar afore them flames show us up too mightly cl’ar, boy! ” For now the roaring, crackling flames were shooting into sight, throwing a lurid glow over the surroundings, ana other citizens were hurrying to the scene, Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. knowing as one and all did what an aw- ful calamity a spreading conflagration is in a “‘ wooden town” like Hardpan. The two men turned and hurried off, quickly passing beyond the reach of those ruddy rays, when Old Gabe gave a long: breath of relief. “ Blame the ’boose, I say it ag’in! An” thar hain’t none other shebang nigh ‘nough fer to git ketched from it. An’ so —hyar’s good luck to us all, an’ more foolishin’ fer them bloody- -minded lynch- erg!”’ Thanks to the location of the jail, it was no difficult task to win clear of Hard- pan on that side, and not until they were beyond risk of discovery from that quarter, and veering around toward the destination already hinted at by Old Gabe, did Harry Marqueduc speak again. Through all, however, his brain was busy, gradually clearing away the per- plexing mists, fetching something like order out of chaos. So strongly hid his brooding suspi- cions turned toward the Spottsrounds, father and son, that he found it no easy matter to alter the hurried opinion formed concerning Jasper; an opinion so thoroughly confirmed by that young fellow’s vicious cries and threats during the hurly-burly ef a few minutes earlier, And it was almost as much to confirm that opinion as to clear away all doubts that he spoke to Gabriel Gannett now. “Did you really mean all you said about Jap Spottsround, sir?” “Did I? You bet I jest did, then!” “ And he wasn’t—I heard him howling for my life! ” “Jest to foolish the bloody gang, lad; jest to help me sneak you clean’ way from them pizen critters,” declared the veteran, pausing to tap shoulder with kindly hand and send broad, genial grin into that pair of anxious eyes. “TI thought—I took him for—” “Which is right whar you got fooi- ished, Harry, an’ that all over; fer ef it hedn’t bin fer that same younker, comin’ cl’ar to my shack in a great sweat an’ axin’ me fer to back him up in holpin’ you out o’ the hobbles—waal, now, to b’ile it all down in a weenty spoon, pardner, by this time I do reckon you'd be growin’ too mighty long in the neck o’ ye fer comfort; that’s right, now! ” There was no room left for doubting his perfect honesty. Either Jasper Spottsround was a rare friend’ in need, or else his cunning was sufficient to throw dust into those honest eyes. Harry Marqueduc was not quite ready to put saint in place of sinner as yet, but he could not help giving Old Gabe full credit for his share in that night’s work. And yet words failed him, then: he gripped hand warmly in silence, then turned away to resume their journey. That pause thad been brief enough, yet ’twas amply long for working a change: in affairs; for, a moment later, a dark shape sprung forward and bore Gabriel Gannett backward with resistless might! CHAPTER XVI, HOW BLACK DOG OBEYED ORDERS. A low growling sound accompanied that vicious attack, more like the fierce note of a hungry wild beast at sight of its. coveted prey than aught human; but slight though it was, the sound was sufficent to turn the fugitive from in- justice, and show him the veteran stag- gering back under that assault. An involuntary cry escaped Marque- due’s lips as he saw the twain go down together, but ere he could fairly rally or offer aid to his helper of that night, a hurried voice came to his ears: “Run boss! Make a break while I cover—quick, young pard! ” Old Gabe rallied sufficiently from his surprise to begin a fierce struggle, but Marqueduc was even more thoroughly amazed, for he recognized first voice and: then speaker as well, | | | + }
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— “You, Injun?” he cried, springing that Way and making a hasty grab at the knife-armed right hand which he saw just rising above Old Gabe’s heaving bosom. “Go, pard! Don’t—I’ll quiet this—” But Marqueduc fastened’ upon that arm, jerking it upward and backward, effectually foiling that deadly stroke and at the same time aiding Gannett in throwing off that living burden. “Stop—hold hard, Black Dog!” he eried, harshly, as the Cherokee writhed | and twisted rapidly. “ This is my friend and—he’s Eddlong’s friend, I tell you. fool! ” There seemed magic in that name, for the Indian instantly ceased his struggles, permitting that deadly weapon to drop from his opening fingers to earth. “Waal, now, ef I hain’t plum’ billy- be-blamed!” exploded Old Gabe as he scrambled to his feet and reeognized his assailant. ‘‘The Injun! An’ ef I didn’t take him fer a he-ole painter, hope may | never see the back o’ my neck ag’in! ” “T thought he was your enemy, young pard,” quietly explained the Cherokee, standing in easy submission. ‘“ Hugh tell me—fight for my friend. Give your life to save his if it must be so. That is why I came like this, young pard.” “An’ jest the _ billy-be-dog-gondest comin’ I ever ketched right on top o’ the back, now you want to b’lieve! ” vowed Gannett, shaking himself and grinning as though taking kindly share in a brilliant jest. “’Pears like I kin see me now, tumblin’ all over a quarter- section, an’ him jest a-diggin’ in his claws an’ toenails fer warm meat! An’ you—oh, whar’s a easy-barked tree fer me to ketch a lean aginst while I laugh me wide open by jerks! ” That jolly laugh proved contagious, and explanations were quickly given and accepted on both sides. Thanks to the clubbing he had received, Chonesta proved but an indifferent safe- guard for his master’s pard; but he did the very best he knew how, and through good luck caught sight of the two men as they beat their retreat from the blaz- ing calaboose. Not recognizing the old man, and see- ing that he kept weapon in hand as though guarding the unarmed accused, Black Dog crept closer until he could take chances with his sole weapon: that knife. On his part, Marqueduc briefly ex- plained how much he owed Old Gabe, and that when interrupted they had been on their way to a safe place of hiding un- til the worst of the storm should blow over. “This is my good and true friend, Black Dog,’ Harry said in conclusion, taking a hand of each man and joining palms. ‘‘ Now—where is Headlong Hugh, Chonesta? ” Black Dog shook his head in silence, letting fall tnat horny paw and casting a wistful glance around like one hungry for the sight of a loved face. .“ When did you see him last, then?” persisted Marqueduc, “Before those hot devils came. He bade me watch over you and guard your life with my own. I did what I could. I was fooled, but—I don’t know where the master is—now! ” “Then he wasn’t there when the ruzcb to hang me was made?” “No. If so—waugh!” with a swift gesture as more of the ancient blood flashed to the surface. “ There be plenty of squaws to blacken face and cut hair, then! ” “Say, lad,” whispered Old Gabe, curi- osity getting the better of his native politeness. “What is he, aryway? Reg- "lar Injun, or jest a white man painted up fer to seem like it?” “A pure blood, Gannett, and good as Nature ever put upinoneskin, too,” quick- ly explained Marqueduc. “ He’s taken a full course at the Haskell Institute, but eince—well, let it pass for now,” as Cho- Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. nesta gave an impatient gesture. “Enough that I trust him fully as far as I would myself, or even you; and words can’t go further than that!” “Lord o’ love, lad, but you tote a tongue that’s like a bee’s honey bag for sweetness! ” chuckled the old mount- aineer. ‘‘ Ef I didn’t know ye was jokin’, I’d think ye was lyin’! ” “ All right, pap,” with an easy gesture. “Let it go at that for now. And you, Chonesta, where will you turn next? To look for Hugh?” he Cherokee shook his head in prompt negation. “No. Sport care for himself. He told Black Dog: watch over my young pard. That is law and gospel to Chonesta. See? ?’ “ All right, old friend, but don’t maké another mistake like you did in ‘this case. If anybody should try to dog us—” Harry Marqueduc left that sentence incomplete, for Chonesta sprung away, to be almost instantly hidden amidst those shadows. “Waal, now, he’s a cracker-jack! ” declared Old Gabe after a brief stare in that direction. ‘‘ Take it fer a rule, an’ I wouldn’t give three whoops in hades fer all the redskins you could cram inside o’ the biggest State o’ the Union; but this critter—go ’way wildcats! ” “ He’s about as good as they make ’em, for a fact,” admitted Harry as he moved on in their original course. *“‘ He believes the sun rises and sets in Hugh Eddlong, the Sport, you understand?” “T’ve hearn tell o’ him, though I never run up ag’inst him more’n a few couple o’ times or so,” said Gannett, pressing onward toward his mountain home, near which he promised the refugee! a snug retreat. A few seconds later he stopped short, turning to utter a low cry. As iffin response, Chonesta came glid- ing forward, pausing as Old Gabe lifted a hand, peremptorily. “What ye doin’, Injun? fer—jest what?” Chonesta made no reply, standing like a statue in bronze. Old Gabe gave a subdued snort, then spoke to Harry: “You try him, boy. Makes me eetch all over jest to feel sech a holy terror is playin’ snake ahind the two heels o’ me; yes it do, now!” Humoring his old guardian, 'Marque- duc complied, first asking Chonesta why he dogged their steps after being as- sured all was fair, then adding: “ There’s really nothing for you to do here, Cherokee. Why not go look up the sport?” Chonesta shook his head, speaking in low, dogged tones: “No. Hugh say watch young para. Hugh tell Chonesta do this; why Cho- nesta go do that? So—” Just as he did once before, the Chero- kee vanished into the darkness by which they were surrounded, and with a shoul- der-shrug Harry turned toward Old Gabe, uttering: “Tt’s no use, Mr. Gannett. You couldn’t drive him away with a club. If Hugh bade him ride on my shoulders, he’d do just that, or break something trying his level best! ” “You raally reckon he’s trusty, then, lad?” dubiously asked Gannett. “ Yes,” repeated Harry. “ He’s true as steel, clear through.” “All right, then; let him go. We'll go ‘long to the shack, lad, war I'll git a bunch o’ grub fer to keep your stomick ca’m ontel better kin be done fer ye all.” But little further conversation took place between the friends while that night tramp lasted, although Hardpan was left far behind them ere that jaunt reached its ending. _ That proved to be at a fairly substan- tial cabin of stones and hewn logs, where a trim-built, more than good-looking young woman answered the guarded hail Follertn’ us rt 17 which Old Gabe sent forth as they drew near. “Yes, daddy; what’s wanted?” asked Polly Gannett, the housekeeper and sole companion in life of this grizzled . vet- eran. ; “Scratch up a thunk o’ grub, girly. I'll come back fer it by the time you’re good an’ ready, Polly.” ‘All right, daddy. And—you, Mr. Mar- queduc? ” “What's left of me, Miss Polly,” an- swered the younger man, instinctively lifting hand to where his hat—was not! “ That’s all right, an’ we won't waste time chinnin’ over nothin’ a-tall,”’ brusquely interposed the old hunter, tak- ing hold of Marqueduc’s arm and moving away from that fan of yellow light. “You do the best ye kin on short notice, gal, an’ I’ll be back right smart.” Like one who feels he cannot afford to run any unnecessary risks, Old Gabe moved onward under the stars, explain- ing further as he went along. “It’s a right snug little hole in the rocks, lad, war you kin lay low ‘long’s ye like; but you kin see fer yerself, soon.” Harry found it in fact a pretty secure covert, and so expressed himself; but be- ‘fore all could be put into words, Black Dog again put in an appearance, silently as before, taking in those surroundings at one keen and comprehensive glance. “Ts it good, brother?” he asked, turn- ing upon Marqueduc. “Yes. 1 couldn’t ask for anything bet- ter,” was the assertion. ‘“‘ Now, will you go find the sport and tell him just where you left me, brother?” “Yes, I will go,” then turning sharply upon old Gabe, who was standing by with a half-frown wrinkling his brows. “JT am going now, White Hair. I leave my brother with you. If he is gone when I return—” stepping forward a pace to lightly tap that frosty pow with fore- finger, then saying, significantly. “That good scalp, White-hair! ” Black Dog turned and quickly left the retreat, while Old Gabe stared after him in half-anger, hhalf-amusement, finally exploding with: “Durn an Injun, anyway! play with a pizen rattler! ” I'd ruther CHAPTER XVII. BLACK DOG STRIKES THE SCENT. But for the prompt interference of mutual acquaintances it is fairly prob- able that a more serious use of gun and knife would have followed that break in the imaginary chase after the escaped. prisoner, for Jasper Spottsround looked and spoke like one in thorough earnest, while the “scrappy” nature of Bulldog Ben Beebe had become a proverb in and about Hardpan. But the “spat” was quieted with- out serious results, and that vain search was renewed, lasting with. more or less persistency until far along in the night; it need hardly be said without satisfac— tory results to the more bloodthirsty among the lynchers. The more lukewarm of the crowd, or those holding more valuable interests in the town itself, turned back when that. red glow in the shheavens above gave warning of peril to property; but, as predicted by Old Gabe Gannett, naught suffered save the calaboose itself, and that could easily be spared. Day dawned without any clew to the fugitive or his immediate rescuers, al- though more than one ugly grow] and black scowl was sent in the direction of young Spottsround. Looking back over those stirring events, it was easy to see that, if as earnest in behalf of the repe remedy for the knifing habit as he tried to make out, Jasper had shown himself particu-~ larly clumsy in the application. Yet no man could say with any posi- tivity that he had played them false, and so the matter rested at that hour,
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owe a tS it RAD Nth Tatts 18 Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To, Although the night was spent and no clew to the missing Marqueduc was to be | had, the earliest rays of the coming sun | saw men afoot and full of an interest | which grew with the food it fed upon. | Few appeared to know just what was in the wind, or what was to be gained | by such action; yet little by little the crowd increased, all eyes turning upon a bent form, which went noiselessly on, | now in a direct line, then veering abrupt- ly from side to side like a sagacious hound feeling for a lost trail. That queerly acting personage was none | other than Chonesta, the Cherokee, and among his followers were Bulldog Beebe and Owen Quinn, The ex-pugilist seemed unusually glib of tongue on this particular occasion, and from time to time he gave explana- tion, or cast out voluntary hints to the effect that Black Dog had struck off the trail left by the fugitive knifer. “JT hain’t banking no mighty much on ary redskin, ye want to know,” he frank- ly declared, even while “ tailing on ” with the crowd. “ But if any one critter can run the bloody knifer up a tree, this is the duck! ” “Will ye luuk at the divil!”’ echoed Owen Quinn, in his broadest brogue. “Sure, an’ he’d thrail the ghost av a sunbaam through the biackest noight that iver—ow-ow! Will yez luuk at that, now! ” Leading the way over ground where it seemed impossible for human foot alone to leave trace sufficient for unaided eye to note, Black Dog passed further away from Hardpan, deeper into the unsettled regions, never speaking word or making sign to his eurious followers save when some one of the more impatient threat- ened to overrun that (by them) unseen trail. His warnings had never to be repeated, so far as that particular offender was concerned. They came with fierce scowl, with hand on knife, and its mate half- lifting recovered Winchester with muzzle turned that way. It was a long and difficult task, even for one whose natural instincts had been developed of recent years to a high pitch, but Black Dog had fairly struck off the scent of his oddly-missing master, and only death itself could choke him off. And so, little by little, with many breaks and pauses to recover the lost trail, that quest went on, drawing nearer and nearer the lonely spot where a hol- low-eyed, haggard-faced man was wait- ing—waiting—waiting! After all, ’twas not Chonesta who caught the first sight of yonder motion- less, silent figure, but one of his fol- lowers, who had nothing else to do with his eyes; and as a wild shout announced his discovery, others made out that queer shape. And so rescue came to Seneca Spotts- round! For Bulldog Beebe and Owen Quinn, each giving vent to harsh cries of indig- nant amaze, headed the rush which fol- lowed, each striving to be first in releas- ing the capitalist from his uncomfort- able position.” | “Oh, the dirty scoundrels! ” “ Augh! The bloody, murtherin’ divils! ” With cries of wondering amaze the citizens flocked around, seeing how Spottsround was bound and gagged, how ghastly he looked with face streaked redly by the blood which had trickled down from that ugly gash across his skull. As quickly as possible the bonds were severed by those enraged rescuers, but | the moment he could regain use of his tongue, even in part, Mr. Spottsround hhoarsely gasped forth: “Never mind—me! Help the—Eddlong —yonder! ” “Headlong Hugh?” “ Where is he?” “What's happened the Sport?” “ queries, and with an evident effort the rescued capitalist hoarsely added: ‘* Yonder—down the old shaft! ” Jith a fierce cry, Black Dog scattered Licge about him, making a desperate plunge to get nigher the rescued man to learn just what he might have to say, while others, better acquainted with those immediate surroundings, surged away in a direction neardly opposite. A dozen of them started in the direc- tion of that partially bare damp, but one agile citizen headed all his mates, and was first to win a view of the opening itself; but he caught a bare glimpse, then shrank away with a startled cry as of terror. Seneca Spottsround was among those whose eyes turned. that way, and as he saw that the right cue had been taken, he gave a low warning to Bulldog Ben, whose knife seemed eager to complete the rescue. “ Wait; not yet, you fool!” “What is it, Kingsley?” cried an ex- cited comrade as the leader came back in amazement. * Look! I saw—look out, you!’ For the questioner sprang up that dump without waiting for a coherent an- swer, flashing an eager look into the open mouth of the long-since abandoned shaft. He caught sight of a human head, a human face, seemingly suspended in the midst of that darkness; and more! A revolver-armed hand shot to the front, and over the tube of death passed a harsh warning: “ Steady,. there! Play white, or I'll lift yer roof too sudden for any sort oO’ use! ” eth es hasty recoil, another cry of astonishment; but it was fairly drowned by the shrill yell which burst from the lips of Black Dog. The Cherokee caught that stim warn- ing and recognized the voice, ° Flinging men to the right and the left, Chonesta made a fierce rush in the direc- tion of the shaft, sending his assurance of aid in advance, to have his cry echoed back from the shaft itself: “Good boy, Peter! Look out for dirty work, old pard! ” But the Indian had care for nothing else save the man for whom he had been searching, and as he leaped to the edge of the shaft he gave a shout of mingled joy, surprise, and fierce indignation, for there, seemingly suspended by a miracle over that ugly depth, was Headlong Hugh, alive and apparently unhurt! “ Wiho did it, brother?” cried the red- skin, vengeance glowing in his black eyés as he leaned perilously far over the open- ing. ‘‘ Teil me, that I may—who played you dirt, brother?” “Wait, boy,’ with a coolness which was truly admirable under the circum- stances. ‘‘ Who’s there with you?” “Good Lord!” exclaimed one of the citizens as he stole nigh enough for a look downward. ‘“ Half the town, Sport, and—” “Fetch a rope, if there’s one handy,” interrupted Eddlong. ‘I’m almost afraid to draw a full breath, this hole is so— lively, Injun! ” Chonesta sprang erect and turned to the right about, shouting forth a few words which were readily caught and acted upon. Half a dozen men rushed off to where the horse was grazing, which had, dog- like, followed its master all the way from town. From saddle-bow hung a neatly-coiled lariat, which would prove to be the very article most wanted right now. Black. Dog turned back to the shaft, speaking quickly: “'Tis all, right, brother; rope coming. How—what devil played you so much dirt, Hugh?” “Wait,” again said the Sport. Then those who gathered about that From all sides came a pelting hail of | hole in the ground could take time to|as placed by Ginger Chump. “Take a see just how the Happy-go-lucky Sport | was situated. | Time and exposure to the elements | had wrought great changes to the Blow- | out shaft; among others a decaying of timbers, a caving of ‘earth, a gradual falling in of one side of the shaft itself. And there, nearly a score feet below the mouth crouched the Sport, back in a small hole, where partly fallen planks and crooked logs served to hold the loos- ened clay from sinking further. Here he had struck in falling after that treacherous stroke from Dick Tate’s heavy club; there he had clung with the tenacity which only comes to one threat- ened by grim death, and there he now crouched, hardly daring to stir his cramped limbs lest that precarious sup- port fail him entirely, letting him fall down to join his less fortunate enemy be- low. All this Black Dog took note of, and then sternly ordered all others back from the brink, lest the dirt crumble and still further endanger his pard beneath their footing. With all haste that lariat was brought, Chonesta catching the coil with steady fingers, again bidding all keep to a safe distance, unwilling that another should even share in the rescue of his white pard. Deftly shaping a noose, Black Dog low- ered the rope into the shaft, giving it a gentle sway which sent the loop fairly into the Sport’s waiting clutch. “Tt’s like a ladder from heaven, Cho- nesta!” cried Eddlong, with a little laugh as he ran arm through the noose the first thing. ‘‘ Now I begin to feel as though—steady, up there! Let ’em tail on, lad, and we’ll see what virtue there is in—steady, everybody! ” It was like a draught of wine to one perishing with thirst, this touch of rope, down which came the thrill of true friendship from the pard above. So much done, the rest was easy enough. Once grasping the lariat, Head- long Hugh knew there was no danger of falling, and when satisfied that enough hands held the upper end to maintain his weight, he boldly swung off from that uncertain support, to be quickly hauled upward far enough to aid himself in scrambling over the brink. Once fairly on the dump, Headlong Hugh gripped. Black Dog by a hand, laughing silently as fingers locked and eye met eye; pards before, these two men were as brothers-by-blood, even as they had long been brothers-in-heart. No words of thanks were spoken, but none were needed. That look and hand- grip told it all. Then Headlong Hugh cast a keen glance around, giving a start and low ejaculation as he caught sight of Seneca Spottsround, still bound to the tree where left by Ginger Chump. A brief stare as though to make sure, then Headlong Hugh thrust the Cherokee aside, flashing forth a long-bladed knife as he sprang down the dump and toward the blood-marked mine-owner, who cried out, shrinkingly: “Don’t kill—I never—help! ” CHAPTER XVIII. THE HAPPY-GO-LUCKY SPORT ONCE MORR. ’Twas but another instance of a guilty conscience bringing cowardice to the sur- face, and as he shrunk away from that ad- vancing shape as far as his bonds would permit, Seneca Spottsround turned ghastly pale in spite of the dried blood which so plentifully marked his visage. Others there were who likewise misin- terpreted that seeming change, but Head- long Hugh brushed them aside as a giant might so many children, laughing short- “T never s’posed you did, old fellow,” he declared, briskly, then cutting away the rude fastenings which still remained | ly as he caught that broken appeal.
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brace, pardner, and tell me—how come ye so, anyway?” But Spottsround seemed absolutely speechless for the time being, shrinking from his releaser, staring in wide-eyed perplexity, not yet able to fairly realize how completely his vile plot had failed. At any other time, or under different circumstances, this conduct might have proved perilous, for even a man of his undoubted popularity; but everything went to show how severely Spottsround must have suffered, and hardly with- Out exception those now gathered about the principal actor in this queer drama felt sympathy rather than aught less kindly. If Hugh Eddlong was an exception, nothing of that sort showed in either face or manner, Instead of pressing his query, he helped to place the panting capitalist to a more comfortable position, with his own hands holding to those parched lips the flask provided by a thoughtful citizen. All this enabled the arch-schemer to rally from the shock received, and to gather once more his scattered wits. Knowing as he surely did that should the whole truth come to light even his personal popularity would fail to save him, Spottsround steadied his nerves by, a wonderful effort of will power, then turned toward the Happy-go-lucky Sport with out-reaching hand to back up his @till tremulous tones: “T’m glad—I’m overjoyed to see you— back again, sir!” “Ts that so?” “T thought—I feared you were— dead!” “ Murdered, eh?” lightly spoke Edd- long, smiling with a return of his wonted devil-may-care demeanor. ‘“ Well, that wasn’t the fault of the cur who tried his level best to down me, anyway; was it, now?” Headlong Hugh raised his hand to bare head, gingerly touching the ugly swell- ing caused by that treacherous stroke. Black Dog gazed at the significant mark, his eyes glowing. Then he gently tapped an arm, to speak in low tones: “Who was it, brother? Where is his trail, Hugh?” Eddlong flashed a look into those eyes, and reading his meaning aright, Black Dog lowered hand and fell back a couple of paces in grim silence, Turning toward his companion of-the past evening, Hugh spoke on: “And you, pardner? From all looks you had a touch of the same disease that gave me the headache. How did it all happen, anyway?” This was a question which he had long anticipated, and one against which he had fully fortified himself, although Spottsround had thought to answer it under very different circumstances, Still, he was a player who knew how to make the best of a poor hand, and so his explanation was given, an eager, al- most breathless crowd gathering closely around. It is scarcely necessary to follow that adroit explanation in all its details, for Seneca Spottsround kept fairly close to the line as marked out for himself whiie assuring Ginger Chump that all would come out right in the end. He spoke of the note which had been so mysteriously delivered the evening be- fore, and which had ‘been acted upon by Hugh Eddlong and himself in hopes of benefiting the falsely accused Marqueduc. At this point he broke off abruptly, for Headlong Hugh, like one who just recalled those ominous sounds cf the past night, turned to Black Dog to ques- tion and hear briefly. Looking vastly relieved by what he had heard, the sport came back, to briskly speak: “Go on, pardner. sweet meat, plcase!” After a most realistic fashion, Seneca §pottsround complied, tellinghowthe cun- ning trap had been sprung; how he had barely caught a glimpse of Headlong Get down to the Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. Hugh going down before an unknown assailant, when another dastardly blow felled him to earth. And then the rest of the imaginary tale was told right graphically; how ue ral- lied in part, just in time to glimpse the thug fall at a pistol shot; to be stricken heavily once more; to revive in bonds and with a cruel gag thrust between his jaws, Then, still sticking closely to his text as prepared beforehand, the blood- stained capitalist told how he ‘vas left bound to that tree, with savage caution against ever breathing hint or sound of all he might have seen or heard that night. “You can see for yourselves, gentle- men, that they didn’t strike me with a feather!” was his grimly humorous con- clusion, one hand going up to touch his gashed scalp. “It was a bitter, long night after the devils left me! I ‘suf- | fered enough to turn my hair gray, bui— my worst torture came because of you, |sir! ”’ turning toward the sport and grasp- | ing a hand to shake it vigorousty. “How did you manage—how was it you are here, now—alive? ” Eddlong smiled in return, nothing in his face betraying the faintest doubt of this man or of his perf2ct innocence. | “ Well, that was right where my lucky | streak came back to me, don’t you know? |I might try the same thing over again, and—but I’d rather not, all the same! ” “And you didn’t fall clear down, then?” | “You bet I didn’t, or i'd scarcely be | here, right end up and talking! I started, | straight enough, but I just happened to } pitch into a hole where the timbers had | given away, and had sense enough left | to take a grip and freeze fast to it like | grim death to a Dutchman’s heel! ” Then, seeing how intensely the men about were interested in the affair, Head- | long Hugh spoke with less levity, briefly | yet clearly explaining his almost miracu- lous escape from a horrible death. He told how he contrived to make his | position fairly secure, although a few | cautious trials convinced him that any attempt to climb upward would surely | result in a fall, the timbers were so in- | secure, the earth so cracked and shaken. A brief pause as he reached this point, |a quick look at those more or less eager faces, then the Happy-go-lucky Sport added: “Just one thing more, gentlemen, all! There’s a dead man down yonder shaft; who'll climb down after him?” Startled cries broke from his audience, while various exclamations told how thorough was the sensation just sprung. * A dead man?” “Who is it?” “Who killed him?” A faint smile stole into that strong face as Hugh Eddlong listened and watched, right hand resting lightly against his sig close to the polished butt of a navy six. : “Yes, a dead man, gentlemen,” he said, in repetition, as those confused cries and exclamations died away in a low mur- nur. “‘ One who thought to send me down yonder to stay until Gabriel blows his horn, I fancy!” “Who was it, sport?” demanded an in- terested citizen. “One who came back to look over and listen to my dying groans, I reckon,” still ignoring that question. “I saw him outlined against the sky, and, though I felt as if slipping down to death itself, I pulled a gun and let him have it—just once!” “You shot him, then? ” “T shot him, but ’twas too uneasy a snap to kill outright, I fancy,” with an- other brief, queer-toned laugh as those now glowing eyes paused upon the face of Benjamin Beebe, Barely long enough to catch those lit- tle, evil eyes with his own, then Hugh Eddlong spoke with almost painful dis- tinctness: 19 “This is the first time I ever met a bulldog who was a cur!” Beebe flinched a bit at this sharp thrust, but, as he saw more eyes than one | pair instinctively come his way, he ral- | lied, to growl, surlily: | “How? What d’ye mean by that, blame } ye?” | “What do I. mean, is it? Just this, | Bulidog Ben; that is was your pard who gave me this beauty-spot,” one hand ris- ing to tap his bruised head, but its mate still touching butt of revolver, **T don’t—what’s that? ” “T saw ’twas your pard. He tried to murder me, coming from behind my back like the curs ‘the consorted with in life! He struck me, but you—” “JT never knew it if he did!” harshly interrupted the ex-pugilist, face turning fairly purple as his savage hatred came still nearer the boiling pitch. ‘‘ I was over yonder in town the whole time, and—I can fetch a whole crowd o’ witnesses, if it comes to that, curse you!” Headlong Hugh swiftly drew his weap- on as the prizefighter made a gesture which was easily misinterpreted. “ Steady, you whelp of Satan! ” “Hold on! I haven’t—lI’m not going to draw for—” “Keep your hands in sight, then, and keep them empty, Bulldog. You're not one to be trusted any too far, though only a fool would pick you out of the crowd for a chief,” contemptuously cried the Happy-go-lucky Sport. “‘I was back in town, all the time, and when you say or even hint—” *““What I may have to say will come out bald-headed, Bulldog, ana never in dis- guise as a hint. You say you were in town. I heard all that racket over Hard- pan way, last night, and now I’ll tell you just this: “Tf you and your gang really lynched my pard, Harry Marqueduc, last night, I swear to skin the whole outfit, and—I'll begin work on you, Bulldog Ben! ” “We never—got away clear! ” hoarsely muttered the thug, shrinking visibly from that menacing muzzle. “All right! Now—who’ll fetch up that carrion, dead or alive?” CHAPTER XIX. DEATH CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM. These words were not addressed di- rectly to the ex-pugilist, but were in- tended for the ears of the crowd in gen- eral. Bulldog Ben gave a surly growl, loth to quit the field at once, yet by no means ready to enter into an actual struggle with the Happy-go-lucky Sport just then and there. After a brief silence, as though to give Beebe time for making his decision, one of the citizens took a step forward, speaking easily: “Well, sir, I don’t want to crowd out a better man, but if there’s no other of- fer made, you can count on me.” “ That’s white, anyway,” declared Edd- long, approvingly. “It’s plain enough you never took a hand in that dirty trick last night, pardner! ” “ How so?” “They were cowards as well as curs, while you are neither,” complimented the sport, doing his own cause no harm by that bit of flattery. “ That’s lucky; for me.” * And the same for all who train with your crowd, I take it. Now, you say you’ll go down and take a squint at that fellow, pardner?”’ “Yes. What am I to do with—what I find down yonder? ” “ We'll see, a bit later; but first, more rope, gentlemen! Of course, I didn’t meas- ure the depth of yonder hole, but—well, if I’d~been asked that question a few hours since, I’d swear ’twas a good long mile at the very least! ” For some reason of his own, Headlong Hugh seemed to prefer using tongue to hands, setting others at work while he F 2
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ad 20 acted as superintendent, and a kept. close beside the demoralized capitalist. Seneca Spottsround looked far worse off than the sport, and, as it may be stated in passing, was really receiving far greater sympathy from the crowd | than was falling to the sport’s share. Since a saving of time was quite an object to more than one of the company, it was just as well that all who followed after the Cherokee as trailer had not come afoot. There were other horses be- sides that which owned Black Dog as master, and from among them sufficient rope was produced to answer any rea- sonable demand. These were quickly and carefully knot- ted together, then a picked few - were stationed to control that portion of the job, the volunteer citizen removing*® his superfluous clothing and making ready to descend the abandoned shaft. All knew that a certain amount of dan- ger attended this venture, since the tim- bering appeared to be in such dilapidated condition; but one and all appeared to recognize the necessity, and little further delay was made, With one foot resting in a firm loop, one hand tightly gripping the rope, and its mate ready to fend off while descend- ing, the citizen was slowly lowered by the strong hands of his friends, only pausing wien at the bottom in safety. A brief wait, while those who were so situated that they could do so without too much risk, leaned over the mouth of the shaft to peer curiously downward. Low mutterings told that a match or two had been struck below, then there floated upward a hoarse cry: “He's here, but—dead! ” Seneca Spottsround had ventured close up to the dump, together with many others, and now, as he caught the full meaning of that cry, echoed by half a score others, his breath came free and natural, almost for the first time since the miraculous resurrection of the Hap- py-go-lucky Sport. A hot wave of blood rushed into his faee as he caught Eddlong looking his way, but Hugh made no remark as to what, he saw, merely shouting out to the volunteer: “Hitch him on to the rope and send him up, pardner!” Another delay which was thrilling in its interest, for the quivering of that rope told plainly enough the corpse was being prepared for hoisting; then the line was shaken and a call came up- “All ready, fellows! Carefully, though! He’s all mashed up! ”’ Foot by foot the rope was drawn up and cast behind the men. And then, amid low exclamations the body was raised clear of the shaft, and placed upon the bare dump, where all might see. Few there were who cared for more than one fair look, for death in one of its most hideous shapes was there. And yet, while frightfully crushed and mutilated, with arms and legs broken, and bones fairly splintered, that boyish- looking face had escaped comparatively unharmed; and hardly one who looked upon that grim relic of humanity but recognized the young desperado. “Dick Tate!” “The fellow who tried to send me down yonder gentlemen!” sternly spoke the Happy-go-lucky Sport, then picking up the now empty loop and beginning to lower the rope for the man below. A few minutes sufficed to fetch him safely to the surface, and when he had taken time to breathe a bit, recovering from that double strain, he was addressed by Eddlong. “ How did you find him, pardner?” “Half covered over with rocks, poor devil! Dick Tate? I never once would have thought it—never! ” “Rocks which were cast down yonder to serve me as Dick Tate has been served,” sternly spoke the sport. one hand point- ing toward the dead thug, his own rest- ing conveniently near the butt of a re- ee _Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. volver. ‘“‘ Rocks which came after a fash- ion which told me at least two more bloodthirsty devils were unpunished! ” Startled words came from some of the witnesses, and Eddlong added: “Tt’s nothing but the naked truth, gentlemen. This fellow jumped me from behind while I was looking and calling for the man who gave Spottsround that decoy note. I fell, but I caught down yonder among the broken timbers, just as you found me a bit ago. “Then he showed over the mouth of the shaft, and, never doubting for a mo- ment but what I’d finish the tumbleina few seconds, I just contrived to pull and take a snap-shot. That fetched him easy enough, although I could hear him groan- ing and crying out from ’way down be- low me!” Again those sounds of mingled inter- est, horror, and morbid curiosity. An- other brief pause, during which the sport’s gaze roved over those pale faces, to linger a bit upon that belonging to Seneca Spottsround. Then he spoke on: “TI also caught sounds coming from near this dump, on the outside, but I didn’t dare cry out. ’Twas all I could do to hold my own, with the dirt which my fall had loosened, crumbling away, sift- ing down through the separated timbers until—ugh! ” A realistic shiver, but the action caught the crowd. Knowing the matchless nerve of this main as many of them did, this made them more nearly realize just what his recent experience must have been, for the effects to linger so long. “ Deep down though I was, I pledge my word that I could hear one of those dev- ils creep up this very dump to listen; and I know that he must have heard those groans from the bottom. If not, why was he in such haste to throw great rocks into the hole? Why did he rain stones down after that murderous fashion?” “ Did he—did they do all that, sport?” “Did they? Ask Martin how he found —this! ” cried Eddlong, pointing at that ghastly evidence lying nigh his feet. * Look at this, and then ask how came it so—if you can, gentlemen! ” For a full minute all was excitement and commotion. That graphic recital had thoroughly worked the men up, and if the authors of that fiendish deed had been within fair reach just then, short would have been the grace granted them, Headlong Hugh waited for a little, then turning directly upon Seneca Spotts- round, speaking distinctly: “Was it Dick Tate who gave you that note, sir? Think; can you recognize him, now?” A brief pause as though for sober thought, then the capitalist slowly shook his head, following with the words: “T am not sure. I can’t say, for cer- tain. It may have been, since all this happened. He may have thought to lure you off here, thinking to play even for the thrashing you gave him—” “And his pards as well!” with a glow- ing look toward Bulldog Ben and the Irishman, who stood just a little re- moved from the thick of the crowd. “ Maybe so; I’m not so sure, of course,” added Spottsround. ‘And who was it downed you, then? You surely ought to be able to locate them?” “No, I’m sorry to say. I was struck down at nearly the same time you were assaulted, Mr. Eddlong. I was dazed, and never fairly recovered my wits until the scoundrels had left me, bound and gagged, just as I was discovered by these good friends.” Words came freely enough now, and there was nothing to find fault with in that explanation. Not one of those present but had seen the speaker bound, gagged, and blood- marked, while the wound upon his head surely spoke for itself. » ie << Wis i 4 Priest oi Whatever his suspicions may have been, the Happy-go-lucky Sport could hardly broach them now, in face of such overwhelming evidence. “All right, sir; no harm in asking, though! I'll live in hopes of meeting the dirty whelps of Satan on a more equal footing ere long. “ As for now, I’m sharp-set enough te eat a mangy wolf raw, without pepper or salt! So—just a final word for those who may need it.” Again that keen, almost scorching gaze, passing from face to face as though sing- ling out enemy from friend or neutral. “Do what pleases ye with this car- rion,” touching that horribly mutilated corpse with the toe of a boot as he spoke on. “I shot him, but those sneak- ing devils killed him with the rocks they intended should crush me—like this! ” “ Now, if anything further is wanted of me, I’ll be at Hardpan. And I’m one of the easiest fellows to find you ever ran up against, gentlemen and curs, saints and sinners! Until then—good-by! “ Come, Injun, let’s get a wobble on us. I’m that hungry I’ve got to hit a hashery right smart, or—well, I'll eat a hoss with out skinning! ” Headiong Hugh stepped briskly down the slope, leaving the dump with its ghastly burden and those witnesses, mov- ing away in company with the Cherokee. And never a hand or word was raised to check his progress! When the two pards, with the faithful mustang trailing at their heels like a dog, were safely beyond sight and sound of the gathering, Chonesta briefly told where he had last seen Harry Marque- duc, with an extra sentence or two through which the sport gained a fair idea of how that escape was managed. On his part, the Hercules cautioned his red-skinned pard to keep a close tongue between his teeth, and to trust’no per- son until after the case had been thor- oughly discussed. “Just now we haven’t the time to spare,” he declared, striding at a brisk pace for Hardpan. “ There’s Miles Rock- weed, first. You haven’t any late news of him, pardy?” Black Dog shook his head in negation. Although he did not say as much, he had given thought and care for naught save his missing friend. There was more truth than poetry in fddlong’s plaint of hunger, for he had not tasted food since noon the day before; but when the two pards entered Hard- pan and headed as directly as possible for the hotel with which the sport was partially acquainted, ’twas for something else than a square meal, first of all. As luck would have it, he met Dr. Branscombe at the portal, and at once asked how the wounded mine owner was faring. The man of medicine shook his head gravely, then answered: “Too late, sir; poor Rockweed died at daybreak this morning! ” CHAPTER XX. PASSING FROM DEAD TO LIVING. This announcement came as a severe shock, for Hugh Eddlong had all through held firm faith, in spite of the serious nature of his. hurt, the Homestake pard would pull through with life. ‘What! Surely you don’t—you’re -jok- ing, man!” he cried, after that first in- stinctive recoil. *‘T never indulge in joking, sir,” stiff- ly declared the doctor, bowing and mak- ing as though he would pass on his way. But Headlong Hugh was in no humor for sticking at trifles, and his powerful arm barred passage at once, “Hold on, doctor!” “What do you mean, sir? How dare you—” “That’s all right, old man,’ with more placable tones, yet holding to his will as he knew so well how. “ You and I ain’t going to mix in a row, ye know, but—it’s pretty much like this; see?
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Headlonge Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. 21 “Once before you made a little mis- take which might have cost another and far more valuable life—’’ “Sir!” “That’s what! Of course, any man is open to make a mistake, and where it’s nothing worse than an error of judgment | —easy, please!” Dr. Branscombe sought to force that arm aside, but in vain. The Happy-go- lucky Sport spoke on, swiftly: “You can go in a moment, doctor, but it’s got to be in my direction. I want to see Miles Rockweed—” “You know where to look for him, then!” “But I’m too mighty bashful to go alone; don’t you savvy, doc? And so— come on, doc. You don’t want me to tote you, pig-back, do ye?” Evidently the sport intended to carry his point if he did not carry anything else, and, making a virtue of necessity, Dr. Branscombe turned to the right about, leading the way into the hotel, up- stairs and then into the chamber whith had been so hurriedly prepared for the reception. of the injured pard. At first glance Hugh Eddlong saw that his visit was paid in vain, and that-the fiat of fate had been fully carried out. A still shape lay upon the bed, cov- ered with a sheet. “Are you content, now,.Mr. Edd- long?’”’ asked the physician, in cold, al- most hzirsh tones. Aig no answer came from the sport’s lips. A momentary pause, then Headlong Hugh stepped silently to the bedside, lifting and turning back the sheet to expose what lay beneath. Surely dead, yet not prepared for his final resting place, there lay all that re- mained of Miles Rockweed, foully done to death! For the better part of a minute per- fect silence reigned in that rude cham- ber of death. Headlong Hugh stood with clasped hands, gazing down upon that white face, softened and beautified by the grim finger of death. : Near the open door stood Dr. Brans- combe, tall, gaunt, looking almost sep- ulchral in his black suit. Near to hand was Black Dog, cool, alert, watchful, a veritable watchdog over his beloved pard and heart-brother. Tnen the spell was broken by the sport gently replacing the sheet, turning toward the door, face grave and eyes deeply troubled. None could better realize how much this death would add to the peril which already menacéd the very life of that other pard in the Homestake Mine. Dr. Branscombe left the chamber last, closing the door and turning key “in lock, saying by way of explanation: *]T was on my way to find somebody to care for the corpse when you inter- posed, sir. Now—are you satisfied?” “That Miles Rockweed is dead? Of course. And if I owe you any apologies, doctor, please consider them made, will you?” Branscombe waved hand in dignified fashion, then spoke further: “Tt may be as well to tell you this: what I feel in duty bound to make known to the whole town, sir; that the very iast words spoken by my poor patient repeated his former charges.” * You mean?—” “He swore that Harry Marqueduc stabbed him, and was accountable for his untimely decease, sir,’”’ gravely re- sponded the physician. Headlong Hugh gave a shoulder-shrug at this, showing no outward emotion, although the words cut deeply enough below the surface. “Poor devil! If he wasn’t dead and past acccuntability, I’d call him a liar! As it now stands—he was mistaken in the man.” It was the doctor’s turn to lift shoul- ders in eloquent silence, and realizing how impossible it would be for them to agree upon that important point, the sport gave Chonesta a-signal and moved briskly away. Even now Eddlong did not yield to the demands of his interior man, but left the hotel, casting sweeping glarices around as he strode off, the Cherokee following behind, with his faithful mus- tang bringing up the rear. Noticing this, Headlong Hugh bade Black Dog go stable and feed his nag, since its services might be required ere many more hours. An interchange of glances where eyes spoke fully as plainly as ever lips could, then the Indian obeyed, leaving the sport to take his own way in solitary. So far the sport failed to see aught of Seneca Spottsround, although he felt fairly certain that’some, at least, of that hill-party had reached Hardpan during the time he was ‘busy at the hotel. After a brief look around without suc- cess, Eddlong turned back to rejoin the Cherokee in front of the tavern, then both entered and ordered a plentiful meal; as Hugh put it, a square feed for a round dozen! The two oddly matched pards did ample justice to what was set before them, consuming the better portion of an hour at table; but then, as the sport lightly phrased it, they had a heap of lost opportunities to make amends for! Passing a few words of direction to his red-skinned pard, Eddlong left table and hotel, again passing through several streets and making the best possible use of his keen eyes. Still he could see nothing of Seneca Spottsround, although he did catch a passing glimpse of Bulldog Ben Beebe, in company with Owen- Quinn and another bearded rascal, whom he recalled as having figured in that bar-room episode the evening before. Finally, like one whose mind is fairly shaped at last, the MHappy-go-lucky Sport turned squarely in the direction of the house where Seneca Spottsround lived, walking up to the front door as though he himself was lord of all he surveyed. Eddlong was spared the trouble of knocking. The door swung open at his approach, and a beautiful young woman appeared, sight of whom caused his big brown eyes to fairly glow and glitter. “Oh, sir! You can tell me how—Mr. Marqueduc—he is not—” As by instinct Headlong Hugh divined the truth; this was Milly Fickeson, ward to Seneca Spottsround, beloved of the man whose name came so tremulously over her lips just then. “He is alive, and safe,” swiftly as- sured the sport, coming nigher, his eyes flashing further, to make sure no other person was there. “Thank God! thank God!” gasped the poor girl, plainly betraying how intense- ly she had suffered through suspense and anxiety. “You needn’t worry. on Harry’s ac- count, my dear,” said the sport, now close enough to clasp one of those trem- bling hands, hot and feverish to his touch. “I tell you that, and I am his friend to the—” “TI know! You are—he has often spoken to me of—and he is—Harry is well?” “Safe and well, just as we mean to keep him, too,” declared the _ sport, thinking it no harm to “jolly” her spirits a bit, even if he were taking a a deal for granted against such ugly odds. “Oh, sir, Iam so glad! I couldn’t rest, or think, or do anvthing but—and there was no one here to tell me how—those awful cries and the shooting and the fire—oh, I thought I must go crazy!” ~ That excitement was fairly hysterical, and Eddlong knew the girl ought to find both rest and quiet; but he likewise had thought for his unfortunate pard, and so pressed a point further. “Then you were worried mostly about Harry, is it, my, dear?” —- “Of course!” with widening eyes. “I thought—then Harry hasn’t told you, sir?” “Well, not nearly so much as I trust he will, when we have more time to spare for talking over matters and things in general. For now—I want to ask you this: Were you engaged to marry. Miles Rockweed, Milly?” “Never, sir!” with hot flush flying into her fair cheeks. “I fairly hated him, and when—why do you ask me that, sir?” The Happy-go-lucky Sport caught her hands in his, drawing her a bit closer, then kissing her full between the eyes! “That’s for Harry, my angel!” he eried, as Milly shrunk away with just the ghost of acry. “I'll carry him word that you are true to him through thick and thin; may I, little one?” “Yes, yes! I nevergyou are his true friend, so—I love Harry with ali my heart and soul, sir!” impulsively panted the maiden. “And you'll never distrust him, no matter what others may tell you? You’ll not think him guilty of such a foul deed? You are true to him, Milly?” “Yes! I am true; I will stand firm and true to my love until death! Tell him all this, and say—oh, why may I not go to him; now he isin danger? Say that you will take me—” The agitated maiden broke off at this point, shrinking back with paling face as she caught sight of her guardian swiftly coming that way. Something in her face warned the sport, who flashed a look over shoulder, then took time to add in a whisper: “Watch and wait, Milly! I'll tell Harry, and you shall see him, sooner or later, for—” Milly broke away and the sport turned at sound of her guardian’s voice, Spotts- round calling out sternly as he ap- proached: “T’ve been looking for you, sir. A meeting of citizens has been called to take action in regard to the murder of Miles Rockweed!” CHAPTER XXI. THE HAPPY-GO-LUCKY SPORT'S DEFIANCE. Milly had drawn back so far that the sport could catch but an _ indistinct glimpse of her as his gaze came back. One little hand rose to her lips in gest- ure denoting caution, then he turned to more squarely. confront. the frowning capitalist. “Looking for me, were you, my dear sir?’”’ he smoothly uttered, as he left the doorstep and advanced to meet the other man. “To give you fair warning, yes. Do you care to attend?” “Yes. And I'll have something to say, tco, if the court knows herself. Where is the meeting to take place?” “Tll show you, if you wish. I’m go- ing. back there, myself. And you were —speaking to my ward, I believe, sir?” “To Miss Fickeson; yes. Asking for you, my dear sir. And that reminds one of the glorious old hymn; two tongues with but a single theme, two chins that wag as one! Ahem! Latest version. Up to date!” Headlong Hugh smiled bland as but- ter as he slipped a hand through the arm nearest him, moving off in the di- rection of town. Seneca Spottsround hung back a bit at first, as though he had some sort of busi- ness in the house; but then he yielded to that gentle force, and the two men moved away in company, outwardly the closest of friends. So far the Happy-go-lucky Sport had not let fall a single word that could be construed as suspicion or knowledge of the real part ois present companion had played in ‘the trick which came so near to ending Eddiong’s life-trail forever. _He talked and acted more genially than ever; but that very effort warned
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22 the scheming capitalist that all was not to be smooth sailing for the future. Notwithstanding this very natural fear, Mr. Spottsround could not, let that re- cent interview pass entirely, without notice, speaking in almost harsh tones after a few moments’ silence: “Tm sorry I wasn’t at the house to give you greeting, Mr. Eddlong.” “Oh, don’t grieve, my dear sir. Al- though I wasn’t there more than a round I got along finely—splendidly, minute, in fact!” “And worked more harm than I can undo for a week, I expect! Your pardon, sir,” as the sport gave start and stare of innocent amazement. ‘ But I mean it, too!. My ward—what did you tell her about Harry Marqueduc? ”’ “ Devil a lie, anyway, sir,’ quickly re- torted the sport... “ That he was as in- nocent of this cuffing scrape as a newly- born babe, and that we’d fetch him out on top the heap right soon; too mighty soon for the good health of the dirty whelps of Satan who’ve been engineering this job!” Seneca Spottsround made an impatient gesture at this blunt speech. “ Just as though the poor child wasn’t silly enough to start with? And now— the blow will fall upon her head with tenfold force, just because you’ve lifted her hopes so unnaturally high, sir!” “What blow?” “When Marqueduc pulls hemp as pen- alty for his bloody crime, of. course!” bluntly explained the mine-owner. Headlong Hugh gave shrug of shoul- ders and a curt grunt’ at this. “You’re foolish, man; or worse! When Harry Marquduc hangs for a crime he never committed—well, Hardpan will have an overflow of funerals! Mind you don’t have a front seat, my dear fellow!” This none too polished hint served to break off that interchange of words, and nothing further was said until the place of meeting had been reached. Already a large crowd was on hand, with other citizens coming to the front as the word circulated. One and all appeared to feel a powerful interest in the matter, and, as he looked around upon those faces, Headlong Hugh had scant difficulty in forming an opinion as to the general sentiment. That was strongly against his luckless pard, and so far as a trial was con- cerned, the verdict to be given was an already foregone conclusion. This -was readily gathered from such low talk as passed on different sides while that meeting was being regularly organized, and, knowing that he would be wasting his time in trying to stem the tide so early, Headlong Hugh stood in grim silence through those prelim- inaries. Although a typical mining town of the middle class, Hardpan possessed a sort of legal organization, and now her mayor was nominated and elected as permanent chairman, with the town marshal to back him up in his decisions. A dozen of the more influential citizens were selected to serve as sort of supreme court, to whom all uncertain points were to be submitted, their decision to be final, Then witnesses were called.upon to tell all they knew concerning the recent lamentable affair, in which one of their fellow-citizens had been cruelly done to death. There were no lack of volunteers, each of whom had more or less information to offer; but as a few curt questions put each one by the Happy-go-lucky Sport went to show, all were witnesses after the cutting, not prior to that event, Upon one important point there was unanimity; each witness swore that Miles Rockweed charged his partner in the Homestake Mine with doing the cutting. “ Because he was so busy fighting Mar- quedue that he hadn’t time to see the dirty cur who really did down him,” explained Headlong Hugh. This was his religious belief, yet even he realized how improbable that defense sounded, and the low mutters of incre- dulity with which his words were greet- ed hardly ‘surprised though they might anger him. After a number of witnesses gave their testimony as to the fight and what im- mediately followed it, Dr. Branscombe was called upon. to take the stand; and as that tall, dark figure pushed to‘the front, Eddlong watched with frown deep- ening and eyes catching a dangerous glow. From past experience he knew pretty much what to expect from this witness, honest though he undoubtedly was. Just for a couple of seconds their gaze met; long enough to send an unusual tinge of healthy color into that long, gaunt visage, for even the sport himself searcely realized how menacing was his scowl just then. Possibly that stern look had some- thing tc do with the testimony offered by the man of medicine. Certain it is that he showed no particular animosity against the accused, confining himself strictly to facts. Like one in duty, bound, Dr. Branscombe told of the injury, its location, its nature, and the important organs affected by the insertion of that foreign substance: the steel blade. Then, in answer tp a question put by the mayor, he admitted the damaging fact that, only a few minutes before his déath, Miles Rockweed repeated his for- mer assertion that the hand of Harry Marqueduc surely drove that deadly weapon into his back. “And an honest man, knowing that he was lying upon his death-bed, would hardly tell a deliberate lie!’ commented the mayor, his opinion clearly formed in advance of the verdict. At this juncture Headlong Hugh pushed more to the front, face aglow with honest partisanship, the whole man ready for argument or for fighting, just as the case might justify. “T object to any such one-sided state- ment from a gentleman in your present position, Jim Strong!” he cried, vigor- ously. ‘‘ You are here to preside over a law-and-order meeting; to hold the scales of justice with impartial hand; to give the living a square deal, as against the dead!” “But not to yank those scales all one- sided, sir,” retorted the mayor, flushing warmly at the insinuation. That’s precisely what I’m saying, sir, and exactly why I object to your recent comment on Doc’s statement. For, mind you, sir, I never knew a man ‘to die from stab or shot—and I’ve seen my full share, too!—I never knew one to go off the hooks as a perfectly sane man!” “How do you mean? What do you mean by that?” “Without exception they were off their nut; loony, you might ¢all it with- out stretching the truth any too far. And so I claim it was with Miles Rockweed; he didn’t know what words crossed his lips, or he’d never die with a mistaken lie upon his conscience! ” For a brief space silence followed, to be broken by hisses which came from several different quarters, “Snake or goose; take your choice, gentlemen!” cried Eddlong, lip curling in defiance as he flashed a look over that gathering, trying to note more par- ticularly those whose disapproval found expression after this disagreeable fash- ion. “Order, all!” thundered the mayor, pounding the box before him with butt of revolver. ‘Quiet, everybody! It’s sober business, now, and—the case rests with you, gentlemen of the jury; make your verdict, please!” Headlong Hugh stood in grim silence with: folded arms, knowing to a moral certainty what was to follow, but pre- pared to meet even that with nerve, The select court put heads together for awhile, but that was more form than ma- terial, since there could be but one ver- Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. dict given on the evidence offered: that of guilty! A grim silence followed the open an- nouncement of their decision, then the mayor (and judge) rose in his place, lift- ing a hand to command both silence and | attention. “Fellow-citizens,” he spoke, “you have heard it all, and that leaves me mighty little to say. Just this: In the name-of Hardpan I pronounce Harry Marqueduc a runaway murderer, and on behalf of the city I hereby offer a reward for his arrest, dead or alive, of five hun- dred dollars! “And if the city kicks against footing the bill, durned if I don’t go down into my own pocket after it; so there!” A chorus of cheers greeted this char- acteristic speech, but the uproar quickly subsided as the stalwart sport was seen stepping to the front once more, right hand clenched and uplifted, as though demanding both silence and a fair hear- ing. ‘' That’s.one side of the question, fel- lows, now listen to me,” he spoke, voice clear and ringing as a silver bell. “Of course I can’t expect to lick the whole town, but this much I can and will say: Harry Marqueduc is my, friend and side- partner. You say he is a murderer, and I say—you lie like dirty curs from start to finish!” CHAPTER XXII. BULLDOG BEN TACKLES THE SPORT. The uplifted hand came down to grip a pistol butt, but instead of weapons fly- ing forth to avenge the insulting words several half cheers told how surely gen- uine pluck is recognized by brave men. But Headlong Hugh was not to be so easily appeased. His head was hot, and his tongue cast loose. His big, brown eyes glittered with a reddish lustre as they flashed a look of scorn over the assembly. “Bah! If you reckon to save your ears the solid truth by throwing out a weenty sop like that, you’re way off your base! I’ve got it in for just such double-faces, and so—right here you have it, all! “TI repeat: Harry Marqueduc is my friend and pard, and I never was more proud of that fact in all my life than right now and right here! “You dare to daub him with the foul crime of murder. I say you lie when you call him that! I say you are like the dirty cur that snaps and snarls at a man’s heels, but tucks tail and runs yelping to its hole if that man but turns a look his way! “ Harry Marqueduc may be playing in hard luck just now, but he is a man from start to finish. He is as innocent of this foul deed as the best and holiest body amongst ye. I say it, and I’m standing here by my lonesome, ready to make good my belief with anything and every- thing from tongue to toothpick, reason to revolvers! ” “Me, too, you bet!! ” And Black Dog, the Cherokee, handled his Winchester just as though he felt eager for the real amusement to begin! “Steady, pardy!” warned Eddlong, with a backward wave of his hand to that faithful shadow. “I’m doing this part of the show; please. And you men of Hardpan, just another word to make it all more binding. “ Knowing as I do that my pard is en- tirely innocent of this crime, I give you fair and full warning: Tl) shoot the first person who offers Harry Marqueduc harm, and if he does pull hemp—vwell, you want to say good-by,to your loved ones before tailing on to that rope, for I swear to kill the last man-jack if my health holds out! ” There was no room left for doubting just what the Happy-go-lucky Sport meant, surely! That defiance was received after va- rious fashions, some cheering his nerve, others scowling blackly as though his blunt words rankled in the quick, others
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grimly grave, and all the more danger- ous for that fact. Enough was evident, ‘however, to see that, no matter how popular he might have been as sport and hail fellow well met, Eddlong was now on the unpopu- lar side of the main question, and pos- sibly building on that fact, Bulldog Ben Beebe came to the front after his old-time manner. “Talk’s good, but it takes money to buy whisky, critter!’ he began, looking mone the more handsome for that purple ' “mouse” under this left eye, relic of the little affair at the Arcade. “ And you hain’t even half the man you think you are—only for those guns of yours! ” “What do you mean by that, Bully?” “What do I mean, is it?” echoed the ex-pugilist, lifting a closed paw as fur- ther token. “Just this: that man to man I can make you squeal like a stock- hog with a hound chawing its ear! ” Scarcely elegant as to language, but a retort which left little room for imagina- tion to go astray in. It is but a single step from high trag-: edy to low comedy at the best, but now the crowd swiftly caught on, and instant- ly improved the opportunity, probably a score of lusty voices calling out in uni- son: “Make a ring and let ’em fight it out!” “Make him shed his guns, gents, and I'll ‘wipe up the earth with thim afore he knows which is what!” valorously declared the thug, really eager to “ play even” for his recent discomfiture at those muscular arms. Nearly all eyes were now turned toward the Happy-go-lucky sport, eager for his acceptance, yet far from assured that a “ gun-fighter’” would or could come down ‘to a battle with nature’s weapons. For his part, Headlong Hugh was smil- ing after a peculiar fashion; his brown mustaches curling away from his mouth, lips parting sufficiently to afford a brief glimpse of his strong white teeth. The condemnation placed upon his luckless pard had stung him to the quick, rousing his fiercest passions, and making him fairly long for a vent; and though this-was hardly what he desired, still *twas better than nothing! “It’s my guns you're afraid of, then, Bully?” “Yes! I can’t lick them, but I can eat you up—just eat you up in a holy min- ute! Shuck your tools and come see me —if you’re not the dirty cur you try to make other and better men appear!” “ Answer a fool according to his folly, gentlemen,” remarked the sport with a low, amused chuckle, at the same time unbuckling his belt and passing it back to the Cherokee, who pressed forward to accept the charge. “Keep both eyes open, Injun. Don’t chip in unless more than that ugly cur tackles me; but then—bite to the bone! ” “You bet! ” quoth Black Dog. Satisfied now that they were going to have a bit of amusement quite to their fancy, the men of Hardpan spread out in a wider circle, forming a ring which promised to be amply large for the ex- hibition of the manly art which was to follow. Bulldog Ben laughed aloud in savage joy as he found his challenge so prompt- ly accepted; for he held perfect confi- dence in his own prowess with fist and foot, both having been so frequently tested in “the magic circle” of bygone days. “Oh, but I won’t do a thing to him when we cross daddles! ’”’ he chuckled while stripping to the buff, waited upon by Owen Quinn and Ginger Chump. “Jest watch me mash him, mates! ” “See that ye do that same, thin, Bin- ny, me boy!” mumbled’ the far less con- fident Irishman. “ Betther you thin me, begorra! ” “What? You reckon I can’t best him, is it?” indignantly cried the prizefighter ‘as he tossed aside his shirt, then lifted 1% his arms over his head for his seconds to tighten belt and make sure his lower garments were all secure for the strain to follow. * Course we will,” soothingly muttered Chump, scowlitig aside at the far less confident Patlander. “ An’ jest mash him like a pancake fer me, pardner! ” “When I get through mashing him for myself there won’t be nothing left for you, Ginger,’ chuckled the bully, afresh. Happy-go-lucky Hugh took less time to make his arrangements, merely throw- ing off his big coat and rolling up his sleeves to give his muscles fair play, then standing at ease and watching his burly adversary with lip curling in care- less scorn. ; *Reckon ye kin do him up, sport?” asked one of the citizens, in lowered tones, his own doubts written far too legibly for mistaking. “Tell ye better a minute or two later, Bisbing,” came the cool reply. “ But of one thing you can rest assured.” “Eh? Which? What thing’s that, sport?” eagerly asked the citizen. “That if I don’t best him he’ll surely do me up,” jestingly came the answer, then Eddlong lightly crossed over to where Chonesta was on guard, watching over the interests of his white pard. What passed between those two men can only be surmised, for no other ears were keen enough to catch even an ink- ling of those whispered words; but Head- long Hugh was still smiling as he came back, ready for the supreme test of muscle and skill. By this time the spectators were grow- ing impatient, and various sharp calls were sent toward Bulldog Ben. He paid not the slightest attention to these, every movement showing the old hand, who was not to be hurried nor rattled in the least. But then he was in readiness, and jauntily stepped toward the centre of the ring, speaking as he came: “It’s to be a fair fight and no favor, of course? And nobody to chip in from the outside until one or the other calls enough? Is that the way of it, sport?” “ Fix the funeral ceremonies to your own liking, Bulldog,’ coolly answered the Hercules, that smile broadening into a grin of fierce anticipation as he put hands on guard. “I never learned how to holler, and I couldn’t say ‘ enough’ to save my life!” “Then you'll surely die a-trying! ” viciously growled the prizefighter, com- ing on guard and sparring for an open- ing with all the cool skill of a veteran. In the eye of an artist Headlong Hugh would have found highest favor, being by far the most picturesque; but one fairly up in ring lore and tactics would unhesitatingly have decided in favor of Bulldog Ben. His every movement betrayed trained skill, while the sport, although foiling those initiatory feints and actual blows, seemed by far less at home with his fists. Beebe was swift to see as much, and that fact added to his already overween- ing confidence, all of which doubtless had something to do with what followed. Having fairly ‘“‘felt” his man and “taken his measure,’ Bulldog let up in his sparring and began work in sober earnest, showing himself well versed in using both hands, striking swift and straight to the mark. And yet—somehow those blows failed to connect as they should! With an agility wonderful to see in a man of such massive proportions, the Happy-go-lucky sport evaded every stroke, dancing on tiptoes as light as the proverbial feather; dodging some blows, turning others aside with his muscular arms, laughing the while like one huge- ly enjoying himself. But then the chance came for which both men were waiting. Headlong Hugh purposely left an opening, knowing that he could not hope to conquer Beebe with is Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. eee ee Sa eee 23 fists alone, and willing to take one blow for the sake of fairly closing. With a savage cry Bulldog jumped at the chance, and as his fist shot out, Hugh ducked so as to render it partially harmless, then closed. Ten seconds of fierce struggling, then —Bulldog Ben was lifted off his footing, turned over as he was heaved high in air—to be cast headlong to earth the next moment, with the sport adding his own weight to the fall! CHAPTER XXIII. HEADLONG HUGH’S GRIM WARNING. There was an ugly snapping sound as the sport fell squarely on top of that dis- comfited knave, then rolled over, to swiftly spring to his feet in the clear, just as Ginger Chump cried out at the top of his voice: “Holy smoke! a liar!” That was but putting into words the first fancy of nearly half the people pres- ent, and more than one bronzed face turned pale as its owner saw how awk- wardly the prizefighter lay there in the dust. Hands open and fingers twitching, limbs a-tremble, body shivering like a mass of ill-shaped jelly; never a sound coming from his lips, nor an effort being made to arise. Quickly as the sport moved, Black Dog was fully as alert, and almost the in- stant he gained his feet after winning the fall, Happy-go-lucky Hugh gripped revolver butt in each hand, throwing the weapons back until tip of barrel lightly rested against shoulder, eyes aglow as they swept around that startled assem- bly, voice clear and distinct as though he had not just passed through such a fierce struggle. “He begged for it, and now he’s got it. Who dares to even hint that it isn’t a fair prescription? ”~ Owen Quinn reached the fallen glad- iator, pulling him partly over to free his head and neck, then caught the bullet- shaped caput between his hands, giving it a vigorous test, they crying out. “Divil a break is it bruck, bedad! Wake up, ye joskin! Is it the loike av this ye was going to show us, Binny, me bye?” “Bah!” cried the sport in tone of dis- gust. “ You couldn’t wake ‘him up with a red-hot poker so long as he saw I stood ready to rub the dirt in! Drag him off to the dump, where all such foul refuse belongs! ” The two seconds seemed about to fol- low this fierce command, but the sport paid them no further heed, facing the crowd like one who has far more im- portant business on hand. Hugh Eddlong looked almost magnifi- cent just then, and few of those who saw and heard could recall another to equal, much less surpass him. That one flashing look, then the sport broke forth in grim warning: “That much for foolery, gentlemen, now for sober earnest. Fair warning to ye, one and all! “TI brand this affair as nothing better than a devilish conspiracy; a put-up job to down my friend and rob him of his property, chief among which is the Homestake Mine. “While I’m not yet ready to call names, this much I can and will say, for your benefit. Those who are working this infernal scheme knew they couldn’t get the better of the Homestake pards so long as the lads stood shoulder to shoulder, and that’s why they first tried to stir up bad blood betwixt them, then —played the knife of the assassin! “Harry Marqueduc never cut his pard; no man who ever really knew the lad and will make use of his calm reasoning powers will for an instant think to the contrary. . “T say he is innocent. And more: I Broke his neck, or I’m pledge you my ‘honor that I’ll ferret out —
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24 punish the guilty one, even though so | quickening flood of curses, which put his doing fetches my own neck to the hang- man’s noose! ” “Ye mean right, sport, but you're way off; Harry cut him!” cried a voice from the crowd, to be immediately spot- ted by Eddlong. Uncle, and I’ll know better how to an- swer him,” with a half-bow in rever- ence for those white hairs. “And even you will live long enough to apologize to the same honest lad.” “ Waal, ef I see I’m in the wrong of it, sport.” A brief silence, then Headlong Hugh shook his weapons in air; face unusu- ally pale, but big eyes glowing with vengeful light as he spoke: “ Now, one and all! Fair warning to everybody! Ye have dared, through your chosen mouthpiece, to brand my pard as a fugitive from justice, as a treacherous assassin, and placed upon his head a reward, living or dead. “Now, hands off! You strike my pard, and you deal a blow at me. I'll defend his rights just as I might my, own. [11 fight a mighty sight harder for him than I would for myself. So—hands off, or make your peace with Heaven before you strike the trail, gentlemen!” Turning abruptly away as he spoke the final words, Headlong Hugh quickly ar- ranged his garments, putting up his guns the while, yet never for an instant off his guard. Although cheers greeted his grim defi- ance and warning combined, he knew that came more as tribute to his bold- ness than through sympathy for the one whose cause he had been pleading. It was barely possible that some of those more deeply interested in the cap- ture of Harry Marqueduc might deem this the best chance to dispose of that luckless fellow’s strongest champion, either for all time or simply to down and hold fast until justice could be meted out to that criminal. Fortunately for all concerned, no such effort was made, and when his coat was donned, Eddlong turned away, leaving the seconds tv do what they might for the fallen pugilist. Not a sound had come from Beebe’s lips as yet, and rarely, indeed, had Hardpan seen a champion more thor- oughly knocked out of time. Although Owen Quinn had spoken so confidently, there were some who still clung to the belief put into words by Ginger Chump just after that marvelous fall was won, that Bulldog Ben had broken his neck. Now that Headlong Hugh was gone, the centre of interest lay right there, the crowd flocking around and uttering sug- gestions without end, some of the more sensible calling for medical aid. Now, as once before when he was needed, Dr. Branscombe responded by pushing to the front, kneeling beside the humiliated pugilist to make a careful examination. “Ts he done up fer good, Doc? Hes he done snapped his cord?” asked one of the witnesses, too impatient for the truth to calmly await those provokingly desperate movements. ‘No, sir,” at length came the answer. “The vertebrae is uninjured, but there may be concussion of the brain if—” “Ketch hold, Owen!” gruffly inter- posed Ginger Chump. “ Le’s git Ben out o’ all this yer ruck. Ef he hain’t snapped his neck, nothin’ shorter hain’t gwine fer to trouble him long; no, sir! ” And thus, aided by another pal or two, Bulldog Ben was half-carried, half- dragged, off “the field of glory,” but, alas, for that doughty man of fisticuffs! The glory belonged to another than his mother’s son! Leaving the crowd to discuss the af- fair at will, the gang took their disabled champion over to his own shanty, reach- ing its shelter just as Beebe began show- ing signs of rallying from that fall. recovery past all doubting! Seeing that such was the case, all save Ginger Chump and the Irishman left the shanty, curious to note what CHAPTER XXIV. THE SPORT AND THB FUGITIVE, After delivering his warning and de- | fiance both in one, Headlong Hugh left | that assembly further action that court of law and or- | der meant to take anent the Marqueduc | “Let a younger man tell me that, | affair. Between whisky and water, one for the inner man while the other was used | outwardly. Bulldog Ben soon rallied | Happy-go-lucky Sport was sufficiently to sit up to do his cursing; | and drawing aside the two lesser knaves permitted him to “ blow off steam” to his heart’s content. This was probably the wisest course | they could have followed, for even in-his demoralized state, Bulldog Ben was a dangerous case to handle, even for friends of the same kidney. And so it came to pass that when Sen- drop around at the little building, he found the ex-pugilist in a better mood | for listening to arguments if not to rea- son than he hardly dared anticipate. Time was too valuable to be taken up by regrets and commiserations, luckily for the capitalist. Bulldog Ben was be- ginning to feel the smart of defeat even worse than ‘he did his physical injuries, and flinched viciously at the lightest touch. Noting this Spottsround came at once to business, speaking in low and rapid but clear tones to his audience of three. “When are you fellows going to make another try for that money? The longer he draws breath, the more dangerous he’s growing; can’t you see that much?” “We did try, didn’t we?” sulkily mumbled Ginger Chump. “ Dicky done tried it on, didn’t he?” “And proved himself a man by so trying! ”’ swiftly retorted the mine own- er, with an impatient gesture, : “ And that adds another good reason why you must down that infernal sport, and down him for keeps! ” Bulldog Ben growled and showed his teeth, but his recent defeat put a brake upon his tongue, and it fell to his mates to do most of the talking. “Tf you only stop to think it all over, lads; if you recall the ugly hints he let drop over yonder, and the threats he so boldly made; you can’t help but see the matter in the same light I do. . The sport must be downed for keeps, and the less time is lost in doing just that, the bet- ter! Let him run loose and we'll fare all the worse! ”’ Seneca Spottsround was in bitter earn- est; never a doubt about that; but one at least of the listening trio had a word to say and said it, too! That one was Owen Quinn, and look- ing squarely into that bearded visage, he spoke clearly: “ Wan minute, sor, av ye plaze. Who was it kilt Miles Rockweed, thin? Was it you, sor, or was it—yer purthy rid- hidded bye Jap, sor?” “ What? What the devil do you mean by asking such infernally—” “Foor an answer, sor, divil a less, thin,” coolly cut in the Irishman, with a half-malicious grin. “ Do yaz remimber that bit av a hairy invintion, sor, which the same Oi picked up over beyant the sphot where that same cuttin’ was af- ther takin’ place, sor?” *And you really think—why, thick-headed flannel-mouth! ” “Thin it was you, sor?” Owen. “No, it wasn’t; nor was it my son. Do you want me to take oath to that effect, you silly coot?” harshly demand- ed Seneca Spottsround. “ Augh, no, sor,’ Quinn hastened to disclaim. “ Why would Oi, faith, whin Oi’d jist as soon take the bare worrud av ye as yer oath—an’ divil a hate soon- er, begorra! ” “All right. Now to solid business, lads,” said the arch-schemer, you persisted | present, eca Spottsround made it convenient to | hiding, like one who fears to trust his passions too far, going direct to the hotel, where he secured a room for future use, closely followed by his faith- ful pard, the Cherokee. It was neither rest nor food that he was in quest of this time, although the somewhat “short on sleep” just then. From Black Dog he had Jearned pretty much all that he cared to know, for the concerning that attempted lynching and the fairly marvelous es- cape of the accused murderer. He knew that Harry had found aid and comfort through the good-will of the old mountaineer, Gabriel Gannett, and that Chonesta had left him in secure somewhere near that lonely, shack. Just now his desire was to join his young pard as quickly as might be brought to pass; but there lay the rub! After so boldly proclaiming his full faith in the accused, and openly declar- ing his adherence to Marqueduc’s fort- unes, be those for good or for evil, could he hope to slip away from town without having spies upon his ‘track? Yet that was precisely what he felt constrained to do, with as brief delay as might be. *He’s got to know just how matters are turning, and understand just what line of action I’m marking out!” de- clared the sport, as he weighed the mat- ter over. “I’ve got to see him! If not— he’s just deeply, énough in love with that little angel to make a break—and a bad one, too! For it'll mean hanging, sure, if he’s caught anyways soon!” Right or wrong, Eddlong reasoned it out that he would stand a better show to slip away from Hardpan unobserved while the excitement of that meeting lasted, than by waiting longer, in hopes of matters cooling down. So it came to pass that, first bidding Black Dog play shadow no matter where he went or which way he turned, to hinder any person playing spy upon his footsteps in case he should succeed in stealing forth from town, the Happy-go- lucky Sport left the hotel and passed quietly through the streets, acting like a man without a care in life. After making sundry turns and doubles in like fashion, Headlong Hugh struck out for the open ground below town, thinking to first make sure no one was trying to dog his course. Little by little he veered around toward the right quarter of the compass as he failed to note aught suspicious, and no warning came from his faithful shad- ow; then, fairly satisfied that his ruse had succeeded, Eddlong ‘hurried away in quest of his younger pard, When fairly at the edge of the foot- hills, where but an indistinct glimpse could be caught of Hardpan itself, Hugh paused to await the coming of the Indian, Chonesta. That did not call for an extra amount of patience, and as the Indian appeared, the sport spoke, eagerly: “How is it, Injun? Anybody on the scent? ” “No. All fools, or blind,” came the welcome response. “Good enough! But you keep on as we've begun, Chonesta. Follow me far enough behind to make sure no one plays spy. If so—stop ’em!” “How, brother?” asked the redskin, touching both pistol and knife, then call- ing attention to his ever-ready Winches- ter. But Eddlong shook his head, hastily, saying in reply: “No, no, lad; no more killing! Just stop ’em; give ’em a bluff, and send me the hint; understand?” Black Dog nodded assent, but there came a half-frown to his bronze fore-
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Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. 25 head, just as though he felt disappointed at not receiving a far more sanguinary license. Feeling fairly at ease now, Headlong Hugh hurried on his- way, heading as di- rectly as practicable for the _ location marked out to him as the home of Old Gabe and his pretty, daughter, Polly. Nothing occurred to hinder that pro- gress. No warning sound came from the rear, and, trusting all to Chonesta, the sport never took fear for that quarter, nor slackened pace again until he caught sight of that rudely picturesque eabin on the hillside. Crossing the rude bridge which spanned the little river running between its rocky banks, Eddlong called forth in briskly social tones, as he eaught sight of a tall, stoop-shouldered figure near the open door of the shack: “Hello, pardner! Glad to see ye look- ing so mighty piert to-day, Mr. Gan- nett!” “ Hellow you!” returned the mountain- eer, in characteristic fashion, shading eyes with a curved palm, the better to scan and sum up this offhand visitor. “Who mought ye be, aryhow, stran- ger?” The sport caught sight of a more than comely face and figure just inside the cabin door, and, tipping his new hat in that direction with easy grace, spoke again: “Well, sir, I might tell you a lie by saying I’m an enemy to the young feilow you helped last night, but—steady, sir!” “T hain’t akeerin’ fer to chin-chin ’long of a crazy critter,” declared Old Gabe, over a shoulder, as he moved toward the door of his house. ‘“ An’ ef you ‘hain’t crazy, ye ought to be, slingin’ fool talk ’round with sech durn looseness—like that!” “Don’t yo know me, then Gannett? Why, man, dear, I’m Hugh Eddlong, the best and firmest friend Harry Marqueduc ever knew! And I’m all the way, out here to see my pard, who is—” “T know him, father,’ declared Polly, coming forward, as the mountaineer seemed inclined to retreat into his castle without belief. It was not such an easy task to remove the suspicions wakened by those first words, unluckily jovial as they had been; but after Black Dog came to the rescue and vouched for the sport, all was made clear, and the glad tidings given that Harry Marqueduc was safe and sound, having both eaten and slept since his ar- rival. Then, again bidding Chonesta keep a wary lookout against possible spies, Headlong Hugh begged to be shown the fugitive’s retreat, which was done by Old Gabe without further protest. That was a glad, almost joyous meet- ing, and if he had a single lingering doubt as to the honesty of this bluff stranger, Old Gabe was fairly convinced after witnessing that coming together of the two pards. Then he turned away, friends together. For a few minutes explanations were in order, but by the end of that time a tolerably clear understanding was ar- rived at, and the pards could enter more into details. Having told why he had not been on deck when so sorely needed, and giving his opinion in part as to just why that death-trap was planned for his eternal keeping, Headlong Hugh spoke on. “Of course I know that you never handled that knife, old man; even were you crazy enough to confess that you did, I'd say you was a liar!” “As heaven hears me say it, Hugh, I never cut poor Miles!” declared the fugitive, tones husky and eyes growing dim through intense emotion. “YT know that. Only a fool or a knave leaving the would entertain the contrary even for an instant. trick?” “That’s what I’d give my left hand to know!” But—who did turn the dirty little | “Can’t you even make a guess, pard- ner?” “ And so run the risk of falsely charg- ing an innocent man with murder; just as I have been accused? Never!” “Well, I don’t know but what you’re mighty nigh in the right of it, old man,” frankly acknowedged the sport. “It’s bad business, even if a body is wholly in- nocent. And still—then you never even caught a glimpse of a fellow who might have done the cutting, Harry?” “No. Nor do I see how any such per- sen could possibly have done it. Surely one of us would have seen him?” “‘Maybe Miles did see him, Harry?” “No, no! Surely he wouldn’t have charged me with cutting him, unless he firmly believed me the guilty one! And —heaven help me to. puzzle it all out!” “Well, [ll plug along without waiting for heaven to take the initiative, pard- ner,” drily remarked the Happy-go-lucky Sport. ‘And as a starter: what about young Spottsround, lad?” “ Jasper?” “Yes. I’ve heard some side-talk since striking town to the effect that he has been: trying to shine up to your girl; how isit? * “Jasper Spottsround, do you mean?” “Of course. Mightn’t he have played double, all the way ’round?” “No, no; don’t you even begin to think : points, then the Happy-go-lucky Sport gave a stern cry, which caused a sudden change in the tableau: Chonesta flinging the knife aside, in spite of that frantic grasp, yet still holding the man beneath his grinding knees. “Stop him!” cried Marqueduc, recog- nizing that overthrown person. “ Don’t let him hurt—he’s crazy, Hugh!” “Hold hard, Injun!” “It’s Jasper Spottsround; can’t you see?” added Harry, while hurrying for- ward as rapidly as he knew how. Just then Old Gabe put in an appear- ance, rifle in hand, coming from the hills, whither he had betaken himself on some mission shortly after the two white pards were brought together. “Let up, thar, ye blame—durn my cats ef—git out o’ the way, you!” For Hugh just then sprung in between, his massive form effectually screening Chonesta from what might easily have proved a death-shot. “Steady, the whole kit an’ b’iling of ye!” commanded the sport. “Let up there, Injun! Hold your fire, Gannett! Quit screaming, Polly! And what in time brought the redskin all over your back, Redhead? ” Like one who feels the matter in even better hands than his own, Chonesta shook his arm free from Polly’s grasp, scrambling to his feet and standing in that way, Hugh!” earnestly spoke the grim silence, yet holding himself upon fugitive, face aglow with honest vehe- mence. ‘‘ Why, man, don’t you know? Only for Jasper I’d never have cheated the rope, last night?” “Ts that right?” “True as gospel writ, Hugh. Jasper led the mob off on a false scent, while the old man sneaked me away in grand shape. And, as for the other—that is even more foolish!” “ About the girl, you mean?” “Yes. Jasper is going to marry Polly Gannet; you must have seen her as you passed the house?” “T did. And a mighty neat little Polly she is, for a fact. Jasper is to be con- gratulated. Wish I felt honestly safe in saying the same thing about the girl he means to marry!” “You surely may; why can’t you?” “ Well, take it from another quarter: I don’t just like the stock he comes from. The old man, now—” “You think—what do you Hugh?” “Heap sight more than I feel exactly safe in putting into plain speech, just now,” admitted the sport, with unusual gravity for one of his light disposition. “Of course, I can’t say that he really played me dirt last night, but I have my doubts; and ugly ones, too!” .- What further the two pards might have spoken on that rather delicate point can only be guessed at, for just then an inter- ruption came from without; a shrill scream from Polly Gannett, and almost in the same breath a ringing warwhoop from the lips of Black Dog, the Cherokee! “Spied upon in spite of all, by the Eternal!” cried Hugh, swiftly leaving the cave to rush toward the scene of dis- turbance, think, CHAPTER XXYV. TIDINGS FROM THE ENEMY. Forgetting how important it surely was for him to keep well in the back- ground while affairs were in such a com- plicated situation, Harry Marqueduc sprang after his headlong pard, the two men quickly leaving cave for the open air, and at the same time catching sight of what had caused that disturbance. Between cabin and bridge they saw Polly Gannett struggling desperately with Black Dog, who had a man down on the broad of his back, one hand grip- ping throat, while its bronze mate clasped hilt of knife. the long blade of which gleamed and glittered in the sun- light, as the still screaming girl strove to foil that surely intended death-hlow. Barely long enough to take in the main Ne eeeeEEeEEEEEeEeEeeEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ee the keen alert, ready to pounce upon this spy in case he should make any effort to flee or to work worse harm with knife or with gun. Young Spottsround gasped and panted, one hand rising to caress his injured throat, while rising to his feet, an angry glare turned upon the graduate from Haskell, as he huskily spoke: “You crazy loon! What ye trying to get through ye, anyway? What have I done to—” “Durn a Injun, aryway!” declared Old Gabe, jaws working nervously on a huge quid of plug. “ Wouldn’t trust one fur- der then I could eat a raw cat ’thout skinnin’!” “Shut trap, everybody! What was it, Cherokee?’ demanded the sport. “Spy. He come on track. He try hang, last night. Now—take his scalp too mighty quick—only, for squaw!” Fiercely those first words, but with tones less hard and a half-humorous twinkle in those brilliantly black eyes, as gaze turned from man to woman. Polly gave a little cry of indignation at these words, but, for the first time realizing how plainly she had betrayed her real sentiments before comparative strangers, the poor girl turned scarlet, then wheeled and fled. “Injun or no Injun, that’s a durn lie!”’ exploded Old Gabe; while Harry Marque- duc himself was swift to bear witness in the young man’s favor. All of this carried the day, and Chon- esta fell further back, at a sign from the Happy-go-lucky Sport, leaving Jasper himself to explain the incident. That took but a few moments of time. He had been hurrying to join his friends at the mountain cabin, when Chonesta leaped upon him from cover, throwing him down before he could offer the slightest resistance. To smooth matters over, Hugh Edd- long apologized on behalf of Black Dog, explaining that zeal away by reminding Jasper how fiercely he had cried aloud for the lynching of Harry Marqueduc the night before. “Only to foolish the crowd,” cut in the fugitive. ‘‘ Only for him—only for you, Jasper, I’d be a dead man, long ago!” “Dont mention it, Harry.’ I merely— and it may be that the burden is on the other side, after all!” There was time now to take note of that unusual nervousness, all of which could hardly be laid to his recent ad- ventures; but, ere either of the other pards could well broach the matter; young Spottsround took the plunge for himself,
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26 ee eee With one slightly trembling hand he touched Marqueduc on an arm, looking half-appealingly into the fugitive’s eyes |! as he spoke in lowered tones: “Did you know, Harry—were aware of the fact that poor Miles had s0ld out his share in the Homestake? ”’ Headlong Hugh gave a slight start-at this, while Harry himself stared in wide- eyed amazement for a few seconds be- fore making reply. “Sold his—why, Jasper, what are you trying to get at?” “Miles surely did sell out—” “No! How could he? He just couldn’t without my consent!” “And you never gave that, lad?” cut in Eddlong, sharply. “Of course I never gave it, couldn’t sell without. Where pick up such a preposterous yarn as that, Jasper? ” *Preposterous or not, he did it, all the same,” retorted Spottsround, little eyes flashing from face to face with a bold, yet a half-covert, interest. Just then Hugh Eddiong liked the young fellow even less than ever, but he held his peace, contented to watch and and weigh while. “There surely is some mistake, Jas- per,” persisted Marqueduc. ** Miles couldn’t sell without my permission in writing, and that I never gave. If you heard any such foolish rumor, lad—” “More: I have seen the papers to prove just what I’m telling you, Harry.” “The papers? Who has any paper to show all that?” A flush crept into that freckled face, and for a moment those little blue eyes drooped; but Jasper quickly rallied, look- ing steadily into his friend’s face to say: “My father holds the papers, and de- clares that he will at once put forward his claim in the Homestake Mine.” larry Marqueduc shrank back a pace, face growing paler, and a low, uncertain exclamation coming from his throat. Hugh remained unmoved, so far as out- ward semblance went, but there was a deepening glow in his big brown eyes which boded trouble for—somebody! * Surely you don’t—you can’t mean just that, Jasper?” asked Marqueduc, by a powerful effort controlling his emotions. Young Spottsround made a swift gest- ure before answering. “I can’t help it, Harry! It’s solid truth. I saw the papers, and they are regular enough; no room for doubting that part of it. And father—he says he’s going to stick out for his rights, too!” “Then your father’s an infernal—” Impulsively came that outburst, but the sentence was checked before comple- tion, as Harry instinctively glanced toward the cabin to which Polly Gannett had retreated in such haste. “Tt euts deep, Harry,” muttered Jas- per, hands clenching, as though he needed some vent for his more power- ful feelings. “It goes to the very quick, but—I suppose you can’t help feeling that way!” “IT beg your pardon, old boy,” cried Marqueduc, catching a hand and wring- ing it ardently. “I never. meant—I oughtn’t to’ve said it, but when I heard— and you know it can’t be a legal sale!” “TI know. I told father so when he spoke of his rights. I reasoned with him the very best I knew, but ’twasn’t a mite of use! He showed up that bill of sale, and declared that what he had given full value for no mere technicality could rob him of.” “Which is as good as admitting that he knew his claim could not hold water,” eoolly offered the Happy-go-lucky Sport, as a brief silence fell over the two friends. “'That’s pretty much what I told him,” moodily said the younger Spottsround, head crooping and eyes following the tee, which rolled a pebble back and forth. “And what did he say to that, Jap?” asked Old Gabe, interestedly. “That he’d maintain his claim was and. Miles | did you | | : . { good until some smarter man came along you | i AE to prove it invalid. Oh,” with a fierce gesture which betrayed in part the real emotions which he strove so doggedly to mask and hold in stern subjection. “Td rather kick mysol? with a mule | than to talk this way, gentlemen, but, what better can I do? I know my father | is in the wrong; I know that his conduct | in this matter can hardly be called fair or—or honest!” “Let it drop for now, Jasper. hardly fit to—” * No, no, I cant’ Jet it drop without— | now I’ve started, let me tell all I know} about it, Harry. Once dropped, I couldn’t-| pick it up again; I just couldn’t! ” “What does your father intend doing, first-off?” asked the sport, thinking it wisest to spur the young man on some- what faster. “That’s what I’ve hurried out here to | tell you, Harry. Father says he means | to take possession of the Homestake this | very day, and hold the workings until— | until you come forward to dispute pos- session! ”’ Harry Marqueduc gave another. start at this announcement, his face flushing hotly, only to fade again into still more pronounced pallor. He knew that while that ban lasted he | dared not show face in or about Hardpan. | To do so would be equivalent to death by the rope! Others’ knew this fully as well, and | with an undisguised sneer in tones as | upon face, Headlong Hugh spoke to} young Spottsround: “Indeed! Well, sir, to a man up a tree that looks as though your mor@\or | less respected daddy was an in—” Just then came a startling interrup- tion. You're | CHAPTER XXVI. FRESH TROUBLE BREWING. With that single exception, Old Gabe | Gannett had stood silently by through all this talk, though eager enough to get at the bottom facts, if full dependence could be placed in his varying expres- sion. But in spite of that deep interest, his life-long habits were too strong to be entirely overridden, and catching sight of something which he knew portended danger to at least one of those present, he gave a low exclamation, at the same time throwing up his Winchester and firing a shot the next instant. That little group scattered much as though a bomb had been cast into their midst, each man instinctively feeling for a weapon, while flashing looks around and speaking as a single tongue: “What is it? What you shooting at?” Old Gabe ducked head and swayed swiftly to one side in order to see past that puff of spreading smoke; then rose up with a fierce snarl of disappointment to speak: “Missed him, by glory! Jest hed a glimp’ o’ somethin’ shiny, an’ then tuck a—ketch him, Injun! ” Black Dog was already in motion, taking cue from the direction indicated by that barking gun, his own Winchester trailing in right nand as he ran, ready for a swift and more effective shot should the fair chance offer itself. “Where? Who was it? Which way— speak out, man! ” sternly cried the Head- Jong Sport. “Over the crick. Them rocks which— right by the broke-top pine, yender!” as hurriedly explained the mountaineer, and then the four set off at full speed, eager to learn the whole truth. Unfortunately for them, the banks of the little river were too steep and dan- gerous for speedy scaling either way, while the point indicated by Old Gabe was on the further side, and a consider- able distance below the rude bridge which spanned the stream. Briskly as they moved and vigorous though their efforts were, it consumed several precious minutes to reach the bridge, cross over, and then pick their ee ee ge oe 3. s ee ne tee a = Hsia way through those thick lying rocks and scrubby shrubbery to win the point in question. And some little time before that was won the quartette realized their efforts were in vain, so far as capturing the spy Was concerned. Black Dog was far ahead of them, running true as hound on breast-high scent; but he, -also, failed to find | what he sought in that scanty covert, and, as he gave one partly subdued whoop, flourishing his rifle over head and making a swift gesture toward his white pard, each man knew that Old Gabe’s shot had missed its mark, and that the spy had betaken himself to headlong flight lest worse befall. Still, they pushed on, in spite of that fact, losing sight of Black Dog an in- stant later. “Right hyar; by the broke-top pine, which—I knowed it!” cried Old Gabe, his keen eyes being first of all to sight another proof. He caught up an article which for the instant puzzled them all, it had been so beaten out of shape by that heavy bul- let sped from the Winchéster; but then Headlong Hugh recognized its former | use, “A spyglass! ” And so it proved to be. Benf and shattered by that bullet, suffering still | further when it fell or was flung down by hand of the startled spy. *‘Look for sign!” added the sport, as he set the example himself, ‘“Ifthat was | trained on us, the whelp must have been marked too deeply for lying out of it, if not crippled—” “Waal, I don’t reckon that way,” cut in Old Gabe in a tone of regret. “I jest ketched glimp’ of it as ’twas movin’; the sun showed on the glass, an’ so— reckon the critter was jest shettin’ of it up fer to go away. See?” Whether that explanation was the cor- rect one or not, the fact remained that not a solitary drop of blood could bs found, while the nature of the soil at that particular point rendered any ef- fort at reading print of foot altogether out of the question. “Who do you reckon it could have been?” asked Marqueduc, after a few minutes spent in vain search of that immediate vicinity. “And what was the fellow doing, any- way?” added young Spottsround. Headlong Hugh shrugged his shoulders after his significant manner before es- saying an answer to either friend. “You say, Harry; for I can’t more than guess the first.” “Guess it, then, pardner.” “T don’t have to. As for you, Spotts- round; that’s dead easy, too blamed easy for my liking, anyway! ” “How so, sir?” “ Playing spy, of course. And now he’s gone, hot-foot, to tote his inferrial news to those who sent his out this way.” “You mean—” “That the whelp spotted Harry Mar- queduc, and now has gone for help to run him in! What for, I reckon you can give a fair guess, unless you’ve forgot- ten all that took place over at Hardpan last night! ” Headlong Hugh spoke harshly, with unwonted bitterness for a man of his disposition, and every look, word, and gesture went to show how deeply his un- ‘easiness had been stirred by, this unfort- unate happening. “Curse the crooked luck anyway!’’ he muttered, staring from beneath lowered eyebrows in the direction that spy must have taken. “If you hadnh’t called us out just then—” “Don’t cast blame wrongfully, old pard,” cut in Marqueduc, hastily, as he saw Jasper flinch a bit. “ As for taking me, well, I'll meet ’em when they come, | for I’m tired of this skulking like a guilty cur! I never harmed poor Miles, and I’Jl die in my tracks before I—” “Steady, lad!” warned Headlong Hugh, one hand flying forth to slip over : : = “ Fr bee Viner SEL? Getta ode a Nee cigiaeer ett iee Sf. ms eee — ae Pee
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Headlong Hugh the Man-to-Tie-To. those passionately moving lips. know you never stabbed Rockweed, but we also know that looks are against » you, and so—” “Til fight it out right here and right now, all the same,” declared the fugitive sternly, once more with lips free. * And I -wouldn’t ask for any better fun than to join right in with you on that play, pardner,” declared the Happy- go-lucky Sport, “but it’d mean a dead- sure yank at the wrong end of the rope for you, old boy!” “Better die white than live a cur, though! ” “And heap sight better live like a white man, Harry,” cut in Jasper Spotts- round. “Now thar’s a critter as kin talk sense!” declared Old -Gabe, His manner, more than -the words themselves, brought a brief laugh to Marqueduc’s lips, and Headlong Hugh was swift to take full advantage of the opening. “He's in the right of it, lad. Two men can’t fight and hope to whip an ‘entire town the size of Hardpan. Of course, we could make it mighty interesting while Wwe lasted, but that wouldn’t be long enough to rot the rope they’ve got knot- ted for your precious thrapple.” “Well, what do you wish me to do, then?’ almost surlily asked the hunted miner, “Wait a bit. Maybe it isn’t quite as ugly as we fancy. If Black Dog only catches that infernal——” “No Bea} See, yonder he comes, now! ” ~ Maxadeduc was first to sight the red- skin coming their way from out the mingled stones and bushes, and even as he spoke, Chonesta made a gesture which Headiong Hugh found no difficulty in in- terpreting. ( “You're right, lad; he’s lost the whelp, for a fact!” Nothing more was said by either of the men until Black Dog came near, then his white pard asked: “Did you catch your game, Injun? es - A negative shake of the head made reply. “You sighted him, you?” “ Yes. He run fast, like bad skeered. Down: there he have horse waiting in bushes.” “Took to the saddle, did he?” Black Dog nodded, gloomily, Past doubting he was sorely disappointed at having nothing better to show for his chase. “Which way did he go, Cherokee?” “That way,’ with a motion of hand. “Ppritty nigh to town, now. Run like ecrazy—ride hoss like devil!” “Who was it; could you make that “out?” Chonesta shook his head, then handled his weapon significantly as he spoke once more. “No, Ketch hoss too quick. Black Dog go find out, brother?” “No, no, Injun!” hurriedly checked the sport as Black Dog turned to face though, didn’t Hardpan, eager to take up that danger-— “You keep an eye open for fresh trouble until we can fairly decide | ous quest. just what to do.” Turning toward his young pard, Edd- long gripped a hand firmly, gazing into those dark eyes while speaking, swiftly, earnestly: “Tt’s just like this, Harry. You can’t stop longer here, now those hounds have caught your scent. It'll mean hemp- pulling for you to try it on, can’t you see that?” “What do you wish me to do, then, Hugh?” “To levant, rack out. skip the coun-_ oy, and lay low in safer quarters until all. ths: nasty smell can pass away!” - ou mean it all for the best, Hugh, ft et kindly pressure as he spoke. ou’r hen y —_ ae to “we | ‘mountaineer’s bullet just spoke the falsely accused, re- “T’m right, Harry, and in your heart you know it! It’s not playing the cur to wait for at least half a chance for your life, old boy. It’s simply common sense, and of that you used to tote a suf- ficiency.” Marqueduc shook his head again, but the sport paid no heed. *T tell you that’s just the way it’s got to work, lad! With you in double danger here, none of us can do ourselves jus- tice. With you out of reach for a little, your friends can work with double ener- gy and ten-fold show for coming out on top of the heap. So—” “It’s no use your arguing that way, pardner,’ declared Harry, casting a quick look around, then leaning closer to add in a whisper: ‘“J’ll never go un- til I’ve seen and spoken with Milly Fickeson, Hugh!” CHAPTER XXVIII. THE VIGILANTES OF HARDPAN. That spy was none other than Owen Quinn, son of the Emerald Isle, and that. betraying glass was struck by the as it was be- ing lowered from an evilly glittering eye, x Although without material injury, Owen was one of the worst frightened varlets in seventeen States, turning away from his lookout and taking to flight with a mufiled howl and call upon | all the saints to look down in pity upon his mother’s son. There was precious little opportunity | for a blade of grass to add to its di- mensions while under one of those hot- hurrying feet, and so it came to pass that Quinn reached this waiting nag, leaped into saddle, and bounded off toward Hardpan before Black Dog could fairly recognize him, or get a chance to make better use of his Winchester. Owen never relaxed his efforts for an instant until cooling reason told him he had completely distanced his enemies, and while the fellow was no greater cow- ard than the usual run of such merce- naries, he was fairly at the edge of Hard- pan ere he felt himseif again. Making a bit of a turn in order to drop his mount at a shed near Bulldog Ben’s cabin, and so avoid calling attention his way, which might prove inconven- ient to both himself and employer, the Irishman lost as little time as might be in turning the information won to the best account. Fortune favored Owen so far; he quickly found Seneca Spottsround, and the next minute was pouring forth his important news. He told how he acted upon suspicions formed by the part played in that foiled lynching the night before Jasper and Old Gabe, then spoke of his marvelously narrow escape of but a brief space be- fore. “Faith, sor, an’ that ought to be worth a few dollars ixthry, now! Av Oi wor putt an me boible oath, sor, ’tisn’t me w’u’d take the same chances av win- nin’ glory in a howly hurry like Oi did that same; no, not foor the Homestake an’ ahl there is in it, begorra! ” “Who was it shot at you? Who did you see down there?” impatiently de- manded the capitalist, though he had a strong suspicion of the truth as matters now stood. “That divil av an awld joskin, no less! An’—see, is it, sor? Av Oi didn’t see that same bloody murtherer, Harry Marque- duc—” “You ure positive? There is no room for mistakes? Out with it in a lump, you slow-drawler! ” “Oi am thin! He wor there! An’ so wor that rid-hidded divil av a bye that’s your own belongings, faith!” fairly ex- ploded the spy; but the latter portion of his report was spent on vacant air. Seneca Spottsround whirled around and strode away at a pace so unusually Vigorous: that it La as 6 enh be called ne = eae —e | | / / H / | Be his pace, Spottsround “hung in For the moment he cared naught for his usual dignity. He was playing a bold game for unusually high stakes, and just now realized how very impor- tant prompt action was, from his stand- point. But that suddenly fierce mood seemed to undergo an abrupt change, and slack- the air” for a moment or*two, ending by turning and making a gesture which caught the eye of his henchman. * Faith, sor, ye’re hoppin’ this way an’ that, sor, loike an onaasy flee on a hot griddle, wid a hoongry birrd watchin’ to grab, sor! ” “That’s all right, Quinn. Never you borrow trouble on my account. I thought I’d carry the news to those in waiting, but now I reckon ’twould be better for you to tell your own story. Come!” “ Where, sor?” “To the vigilantes, of course; come! ” “ Av Oi do Oi will, but Oi won’t thin!” spluttered Owen, hanging back as Spotts- round closed impatient hand on arm. “Sure, sor, Oi haven’t done onything which—” * Are you all fool, Quinn? It’s a re- ward you'll get, nothing worse! Didn’t you hear what was said about pay for ' taking Harry Marqueduc, either dead or alive? ”’ That seemed to put matters in a vastly different light, and Owen no longer showed reluctance to meet the members | of the Jaw and order party, whose pres- ent object seemed to be the avenging of Miles Rockweed’s murder. Although the force of vigilantes could hardly be said to have a full and fair. organization as yet, a number of tho‘e more strongly interested were found in consultation, and, after listening to the report brought in by Owen Quinn, action was promptly taken. Word was spread throughout Hard- pan, and recruits bidden rendezvous at the spot where the recent open-air court had been held, armed, and as Many as could, with mounts. All this without Seneca Spottsround taking any more prominent part in the business than to see Owen Quinn come to the front; but when the rallying of armed forces was fairly under way, the mine owner showed himself prominently enough to make sure of an invitation to bear them company in quest of the fugi- tive assassin. The capitalist shook his head soberly . before speaking out: “No, gentlemen, you really must ex- cuse me. Not that I am opposed to the principles you represent; I claim that law and order must rule, no matter who suffers by that exercise of justice; but — 7 just now—you really must excuse me! “Why so? You ought to shold up your end like all the rest of us.’ “Not this time, please. My skin is not extra thin, but were I to take a prominent part in this hunt, what would be said? That I wanted to get Harry — Marqueduc out of the way, simply be- cause I hold a bill of sale to the Home-— : stake Mine, given me for value received, by one who swore he had bought out. ? his former partner. * Do you mean just that?” “ Every word of it, friend. And I firm-_ : ly believe that Marqueduc killed Rock- weed because of that legal too!” justice by any further exposition of his private affairs, Seneca Spottsround turned away, leaving his friends to chew upon another rare morsel, for the time being. With little expectation of finding any an transfer, — wh a . serious trouble in taking their human : game in case it had not fled to still more secure hiding, the vigilante leaders only waited to collect a score of me then started at a brisk pace out of Hard-— pan, heading for the mountain nae the shortest practicable route. As nearly all of the a r while the route a
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28 enough to break down an active man in fair training, the full force kept toler- ably well together, while making more than average time, and fully half their number caught sight of the Gannett dom- icile at the same moment. “Look! They haven’t all jumped the country, anyway!” called out one of the party, pointing to still further make his meaning clear. Lounging in front of the cabin were several men, seemingly at ease with life and all their surroundings, and then a second voice made itself heard above that muttering of interest. “One of ’em’s the sport! See?” “But where’s Marquedue? Gone, for rocks! ” “Well, he can’t go so far but what we can find him, I reckon,” exploded Mayor Strong, touching his horse with spur and riding rapidly forward now that cover was fairly broken. Crossing the river at the bridge, the vigilantes soon drew rein before the cab- in, Mayor Strong speaking, curtly: “How d’y, gents! Whar’s Marque- duc?” Hugh Eddlong looked half-quizzically into that face for a moment, then parted jaws in a long, lazy yawn before speak- ing, even more briefly: “You tell, Jimmy! ” “He was here, and—” “So was last Christmas, but that’s gone; and so has Harry Marqueduc— lucky for some of your party, too!” “Do you deny that he has been here, then, sir?” ‘Who says he was here?” ‘“Why do you ask that, if he wasn’t? ”’ “Weil, for one thing, I do love to gaze upon a liar!” mocked the Happy-go- lucky Sport. ‘‘And that’s partly why your beautiful mug always holds such a powerful attraction for my eyes, Jim- my! ” The leader of the vigilance committee frowned at this quip, but suspecting a play for time under it all, he swung him- self from saddle to earth. “That’s all right, sir, if you can only make it seem right when pay-day rolls fs be again! Meanwhile—we’re going to look for ourselves without bothering you any further,” the Mayor asserted. Hugh rose leisurely to his feet, giving himself a shake as though to settle his muscular limbs, then spoke again: “What are you going to do, Strong?” “ Going to make a search of this place. We know that Harry Marqueduc has been here only a few hours ago and we mean to—’” “Go easy, my dear fellow! ” smoothly urged the sport, by a slight movement barring further passage without an act- ual collision. “Careful, you! Are you going to resist our legal authority, sir?” “ Your—whdt?” “Thats all right, Eddlong,” hand resting dangerously near the butt of a revolver. ‘“‘We’ve come out here for Marqueduc. We’re going to have him, if he is to be found. Now, I’m going to begin the search, you understand?” “Oh, is that the way of it? Well, that’s all right, Jimmy. Only I do hope you all know how to pray, gentlemen! ” “How to—what’s that got to do with sig ghd “Because you’d better begin praying right now that you'll not find the sort of game you're looking for,” coolly assured the sport. “How so?” “Well, Jimmy, seeing it’s you, I'll give you fair and friendly warning in advance, and that runs like this: If you should stumble on my pard, and try to take him, dead or alive, as your reward says, I’ll kill half your gang to my lone- some—then die a-laughing to watch the | rest o’ you break your fool necks trying to run away!” “Bah! You’re wild, man!” cried the Chief of Vigilantes. Jim angrily | CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SPORT MAKES AN EVENING CALL, Headlong Hugh the Man-to-Tie-To. The two men stood face to face, each | one a fair representative of his particular class. “ All right, if you only think I’m fool- ish, Jim Strong.” “That don’t worry, me in the least, Eddlong. We’re hunting for Harry Mar- | If he’s here, as we know he was | a short time ago, we’re going to find him. | queduc. If we find him, we’ll take him, too!” “Do you really mean all that, Jim- my?” “You bet we do mean it; and more— if you try to make us trouble, Eddlong, we'll either subdue or kill you!” The Happy-go-lucky Sport laughed carelessly at this grim threat, never look- ing more completely at ease in mind as he slouched aside, leaving a clear passage to the cabin, at the same time adding: “Allright, gentlemen. It’s a fair warn- ing on both sides. Now, go on with your rat-killing!”’ Not one of the others present had spoken since the coming of the Vigi- lantes, but now, as the exponents of law and order moved upon his humble home, Old Gabe jeeringly said: * Don’t. steal arything more’n ye kin hide into the pockets of ye, gents! Fer I heven’t hed a fa’r pop at a thief fer so long that—” “Button that lip, Gannett, or maybe you'll git popped all over!” an irritated Vigilante made sour retort. As a matter of course, it did not take very many minutes to assure the man- hunters that he whom they sought was neither in nor immediately about that small building, and then they turned their attention toward other quarters. To do them simple justice, not one of the party slighted his work, so far as could be seen, but hunted with a firm resolve to find, if such luck lay within ‘ sources seemed exhausted, the chief bluntly asked Eddlong where the young fellow was, then. “Any other men you’ve lost, dear fel- low? If so, just lump ’em in a bunch and sling their names at me; do!” “ Will you tell me, then?” “ Haven’t I already, told you? It’s all I ean do to keep tab on my mother’s son without worrying o’ nights over other kids. So—hope you'll survive the double disappointment, old man!” “T’ll live long enough to see you sup bitter sorrow for playing the fool—or is it knave?” Happy-go-:ucky, Hugh laughed outright at this blunt query. Just then he felt that he could well afford to take as well as give, and he showed no resentment at that insinuation. “Well, Jimmy, I aon’t know a man living who ought to be a better judge as to that than—shall I hold a mirror up to the original? ” In spite of his fierce disappointment Strong could not quite control his facial muscles, and Eddlong laughed anew as he caught that brief-lived smile. “Ah, Jimmy, lad! you’re not half as nasty as you’ve been trying to make out. You wouldn’t hang a sick kitten on such evidence as can be brought against Harry Marqueduc; and you know it!” “T know that I'll hang him higher tham Gilderoy’s kite if I ever have the luck to’ clap eyes upon your pard!” harshly, re-: torted the mayor, as he sprang into sad-' dle and turned faced in the direction of; the bridge spanning that little river. His men likewise got under way, but. Headlong Hugh was not quite ready to bid the party good-by, moving along in their company, on foot. “That’s all right, gentlemen. You feel sore over it, right now, but the day’s coming ’round when every one of you will give me thanks for standing in the the bounds of possibility, in spite of the | Way of a—call it judicial murder, then!” grimly pleasant threats made by the Happy-go-lucky Sport. Possibly they believed that Eddlong was merely running a bluff, and that he would think twice before coming to actu- al blows in case the fugitive should be unearthed. Fortunately for all concerned, this did not occur, and so the question remained unaswered for the time being. The search was so thorough that the little cave in which Harry Marqueduc had spent the majority of the hours since his cleverly contrived escape from the lynchers was found, greatly to the sur- prise of those composing the party of man-hunters. ' Not one of them had known of such a& snug retreat before this, and that dis- covery served to make them all the more eager on the scent. But only disappointment rewarded their efforts, and finally even Jim Strong, mayor and Chief of Vigilantes, gave over in sullen despair. Again he strove to win a clew to the fugitive’s movements through question- ing the party, but totally without success. Old Gabe insisted on covertly scanning each member’s pockets, like one might who more than suspected sly thievery. Black Dog stood superbly cold and un- responsive, arms folded in front of his stalwart person, yet with hands drooping low enough to be very nigh butt of pistol and haft of knife. And Headlong Hugh? Full to over- flowing with quip and crank, turning all to jest, now good-humoredly, then with a barb that rankled like a poison-tipped arrow. As for Polly Gannett, she kept well screened from view, as a rule, and there was nothing to be seen of Jasper Spotts- round. He had been reported as present by, Owen Quinn when the spy made his re- port before the Vigilance Committee, but naught had been seen of him since their coming to the mountain shack. Recalling this fact, when his other re- No response was made to these words, unless it was by, looks. They certainly showed slight indications in the direc- tion hinted at by the Happy-go-lucky Sport. “T say, Mr. Strong!” called out Edd- long as the bridge was neared. “What is it, then?” “ Will you take a message Irom me to Hardpan? ” “Who for?” “Seneca Spottsround. Tell Lim that if he is the wise man people ordinarily give him credit for, he’ll keep his hands off the Homestake Mine until this busi- ness is fairly and honestly settled.” “That is his business, I reckon!” “He don’t want to run away with that notion, though, Jimmy. You tell him I said so, will you, please?” “All right. Ill tell him. Anything else? You’ve been so infernally accom- modating, and obliging, and polite, and— all that—ever since we rode up, that I’m actually dying to do you good!” “Thanks, awfully! I'll try to dream of you to-night, Jimmy! And now—oh, I say, sweetheart! ” “Say it, then, confound you!” growl- ingly answered the mayor, flushing warmly as a number ofehis men failed to quite smother their amusement over that good-natured baiting. “ Just this: Please tell Seneca Spotts- round to remain at home this evening, as I mean to call there. Important busi- ness, tell him. You will?” “ All right! Come on, lads, or he'll talk all the ears off o’ the whole crowd!” The Vigilantes crossed the bridge and rode briskly away; and just as they van- ished from view of the man who leaned easily, lazily there on one, of the rude hand-rails, a wet and water-dripping head and face of ,human being showed itself near a grass-fringed ledge of rock! And that face belonged to Harry Mar- queduc! The shades of evening were well de- scended over Hardpan when a couple of
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PC omitae on! ne " Chonesta. Headlong Hugh the Man-to-Tie-To. 29 light-steppmmg men came out of those foothills and moved silently across the more level ground, heading not only for the town itself, but for the house under awhose rooftree the Spottsrounds resided. Although the moon had not yet come into sight, the air was so clear and the stars sparkling so brightly that it was by no means a difficult matter to distin- guish between the twain; one was surely Headlong Hugh, the Happy-go-lucky Sport, while that bronzed skin and beard- free face just as certainly indicated his Haskell pard, Black Dog, the Cherokee. Neither man spoke while making their way through that scattered portion of the town, and now, as seemed to be his rule, Chonesta kept a slight distance to the rear of his white brother. “Here we are at last!” finally ex- claimed the sport, in subdued tones, as be paused in front of the building. ‘‘ You haven't forgotten all I told you, Injun?” “T know. You can trust me,” “All right. If there’s any, bobbery— but there mustn’t be! Now, we’ll see if Jim Strong delivered my message, and if the old man thought it worth while to pay heed!” Lifting hand as he moved a bit closer, the sport rapped sharply on a panel, when the barrier swung open with al- most startling celerity, thus proving that some one surely had been in wait. And a moment later Headlong Hugh recognized that person as— “You, Milly!” he ejaculated, at the game time stepping over the threshold and gently, pushing the blushing maiden back to make room. A swift whisper dropped from his lips, although the next instant showed him the figure of Mr. Spottsround just emerging from a room which opened directly off the fairly wide hall. The proprietor was frowning percepti- bly as he caught sight of that athletic figure, but Headlong Hugh smiled bland- ly, pushing hat back with careless ease as he genially saluted: “ Good-evening, Mr. Spottsround; de- lighted to find you at home, and still more pleased to see you looking so mon- strously chipper, sir!”’ “You sent me word that you intended calling, didn’t you, sir?” almost harshly demanded the capitalist, “By Jimmy Strong; yes! Then the fellow did have manners enough to leave my word? I just wanted to—step inside, You can wait here, for I'll not be very long.” The bronzed follower silently complied, and the Happy-go-lucky Sport moved toward the host, speaking easily the while: “A few words with you in private, please, Mr. Spottsround.” “Very well, sir. Come to my office, right back here,” stiffly spgke the mine- owner, turning and leading the way into that side-room. And the instant they vanished Chon- esta caught Milly in his arms! CHAPTER XXIX. CLAIMING THE HOMESTAKE. That very interesting spectacle escaped the eyes of Milly’s guardian, and as no scream of alarm or of indignation pene- trated that far, the door of the little home-office was closed behind the two men, with Seneca Spottsround still in a ‘state of (more or less) blissful ignorance. A comfortably furnished, snugly ar- ranged place it was, as Headlong Hugh was fain to acknowledge as he glanced quickly, curiously around, when once within that apartment. Books, a writing desk and table com- bined, a small but substantial safe in one corner, the usual complement of chairs, and other conveniences. Although rather noted for his affability as a rule, just now the capitalist showed little courtesy in either manner or speech, turning when near his desk to give curt nod toward a chair, then speaking: “Help yourself. Now—you sent me word that you wanted to see me on busi- ness, I believe?” “That’s right, my dear fellow,” came the easy. response, as Headlong Hugh picked out-the most comfortable-looking chair, to drop into it, only pushing back the leaf of his new hat, to leave eyes unshaded. “Well, what is it?” “* About the Homestake Mine, of course. You claim—” “ Nothing more than my legal meghts, sir.” “Ts that so?” * That is so!” “Then of course there is no use in my trying to say anything, is there?” asked the sport, with bare-faced innocence. Seneca Spottsround flushed a bit at this, feeling it more keenly than he would harshest insolence; and noting this fact, the Happy-go-lucky Sport added, in al- tered tones: “Sit down, Mr. Spottsround, This is hardly a matter which can be settled by a dozen words, or even by the unsupport- ed dictum of a gentleman as ’way-up in life and business as all Hardpan recog- nizes you to be. Sit down, or—shall I stand up?” Eddlong rose to his feet as these words crossed his lips, but he remained stand- ing barely a score seconds. The mine-owner flushed and frowned, hands instinctively clenching; but then he yielded so far as to take a chair, whereupon the sport resumed his seat. “That’s a little bit more like it,” he coolly quoth, as one leg crossed and hat came off to cover a knee, “I always did like to make a man feel at home, you understand? ” “Especially in his own house? How remarkably kind of you, sir!” “Don’t mention it, pray; ’tis merely a little way I’ve got.” : A brief pause, then the mine-owner spoke again: “ About ‘this business, sir; will it be too much to ask you to come to the point as quickly as may be?” “Not at all. The mayor led a few gentlemen out my way this afternoon, on a little trip for exercise, and \some- thing happened ‘to be let drop which—” “About my claiming the Homestake property?” cut in Spottsround, with an impatient gesture. ‘‘Come to the point, please! ’”’ “Yes. You really mean to put forward such a claim, then?” “T have already done so.” “On what grounds?” “That of ownership, of course.” “Indeed! Then your name is Harry Marqueduc? ” : “My name is—what do you mean by that, sir?” ‘Just this. The Homestake Mine be- longed to two pards. One of them died, which left all to his mate. And that owner now is my pard, Harry Marque- duc. Is that plainly stated, sir?” Headlong Hugh spoke with almost painful distinctness, but his words made not the slightest impression upon his present adversary. Cool and composed, Seneca Spotts- round waited until he ceased speaking, then made cold reply. “More plain than truthful, Mr. Edd- long.’’ “Then I’m a liar, is it?” “A man may put forward a mistaken statement without the slightest intention of saying what lacks foundation on truth, remember,” coldly explained the capitalist, with just the ghost of a smile coming into his face. “And just now you are seriously mistaken, Mr. Edd- long.” “In just what way?” “ Like this: Miles Rockweed came into full ownership of the Homestake Mine, either by purchasing or winning ‘the share which his partner originally held.” “You say it?” “ And I mean it all, sir. Then I bought the entire property from Miles Rockweed, | as I have all the documents necessary, to show to those who may demand a sight— | after a proper manner, of course.” Seneca Spottsround uttéred these words with all the coolness of a man who knows his position is impregnable; but the Happy-go-lucky Sport was not so readily satisfied. “As a man of business, Mr. Spotts- round, you are perfectly satisfied with your bargain?’’ he asked, easily. *‘Blse I should never have gone into the speculation; yes, sir.” “And you have all the papers essen- tial? Nothing lacking?” ** Nothing at all.” “Then, of course, you hold the writ- . ten consent given by Harry Marqueduc to that transfer?” As he asked this question, Hugh leaned forward as though curious to note the effect of his shot. But his adversary showed no signs of either annoyance or discomfiture, even smiling more pro- nouncedly as he made reply: “What has that got to do with me, pray?” “You forget that—” “TI forget nothing, sir. In securing the Homestake property, I was dealing with the sole owner. The fact of that transfer is ample proof that I had won the full consent of the only other being interested in ‘the affair.” “ Except mean!” “J mean precisely what I say; neither more nor tess. Marqueduc has not had anything whatever to do with that trans- fer. He went out of the property before I entered into a bargain with Miles Rock- weed.” “He says not, and says it most decid- edly, too!” Seneca Spottsround shrugged shoulders at this blunt statement. “To whom has Mr. Ma.queduc made that statement, pray?” “To me, for one; and there are others!” “Of course you are not so much to blame for placing credence in the words of one whom you have called your friend—” “A thorough gentleman, sir, and one whom I am more than proud to call my friend in the face of the whole world!” “Very wel. That is a matter with which I have naught to do. As for the other affair, just this,” tapping finger on palm, as though to lend emphasis to his words. “JT can prove my right and title to the Homestake Mine. If Harry Marque- duc denies that right, both moral and legal, let him come to ‘the front and do so in his own proper person! "’ “When your crowd of whoopers-up would lynch him, is it?” “That’s his lookout, not mine, Mr. Eddiong. Business is business, as 1f scarcely need remind a gentleman of your age and experience, and if your friend is innocent—” “TI say he is just that, sir!” flashed the Happy-go-lucky Sport, for the mo- ment losing temper before that cold, sneering demeanor. “Do you deny it?” The capitalist smiled: and bowed, one white-fingered hand going out in a depre- catory gesture. “ Excuse me, please, my dear sir. I am not a professional fire-eater, nor do I make it an every-day practice insulting guests beneath my own rooftree, So you really must excuse me, sir!” There was such a delicious coolness in all this—such an adroit method of con- veying his actual sentiments under guise of a polite refusal to make them known— that in spite of himself and the cause he was advocating, Headlong Hugh could not entirely suppress a half-smile. “Well, Mr. Spottsround, you’l] never be ‘hanged for lack of an excuse to slip the noose upon some other neck,” he said, with grim pleasantry. *. “ Thanks!’”’ Harry Marqueduc, you
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30 Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. “No trouble in life, sir, so don’t men- | tion it! And now: If Harry Marqueduc holds certain scruples against coming | to ‘the front just now, he has furnished @ substitute with full powers to act.” “Meaning yourself, I presume, Mr. Eddlong?”’ let me give you fair warning to keep all hands off the Homestake property. Your claims are denied, in toto; and if neces- sary we'll fight you at the pistol’s muz- zle!” Seneca Spottsround rose to his feet, face coldly grave and tones as steady as fate when next he spoke. “Have you anything further to offer, Mr. Eddlong?”’ “Whole gobs of it! Unless you flatly back down from the position you have so strangely assumed, sir.” “And brand myself fraud in general?’’ “ Oh, we'll let you off lighter than that, my dear fellow!” Spottsround smiled faintly, bowing in sarcasm. “You’re too kind, much too kind, my dear sir! As for backing down, I have nothing to retract or to alter in the slightest degree. I know my rights, and stand ready to defend them against all who dare dispute my claims.” “Do you really mean all that, sir?” “Every word of it. But I’H debate the matter no longer, here. At any other time or place—that will be different!” “All right. Call it to-morrow, and at the Homestake?”’ “T expect to be there, to look after my interests; yes.” Mr. Spottsround crossed the room to fling open the door leading into the hall, and taking the hint, Headlong Hugh fol- lowed his host. And as they stepped forth, there stood Black Dog by the other door, silent and alone! liar, swindler, ee a CHAPTER XXX. BY THE SKIN OF THEIR TEETH. There was nothing to be seen of Milly Fickeson, and to all appearances. the Cherokee had been waiting the end of | that business interview in solitude. Hugh Eddlong flashed one keen glance around, then turned toward the capitalist to add: “All right, my dear fellow. We'll meet that the way of it?” “Tt is more than likely that business will call me there; yes, sir,” came the cold response. “Tf you’re in the neighborhood [ll rout you out; never you doubt that for an instant, pardner; So, good-night! Dream over your riches while you have the chance, Mr. Spottsround!”’ “Ts that meant for a threat, sir?” “T never quarrel with a gentleman— under his own rooftree,”’ declared the Happy-go-lucky Sport with a half-bow and whole grin. “Come, Injun!” he said, turning toward the exit. “Reeckon we’ll puck- achee for now. Pick up your heels and walk, Black Dog!” The two pards left the house, and Sen- eca Spottsround. slammed the door be- hind them, much as though he was pro- nouncing a sonorous “ wooden damn” by way of malison. Both pards maintained silence while near the house, walking briskly, as though eager to quit its neighborhood. Eddlong was not quite ready to divulge What passed between himself and the capitalist during that not very protracted interview, while the redskin apparently had other food for thought. They were striding along in utter si- lence, each busy with his own reflec- tions, when a startling interruption came. A dark figure sprang from the way- side, making a swift gesture as it came. “Look sharply. For with that sudden appearance and cut!” cried the redskin, | “That’s right! And as my first step, | | over at the Homestake, to-morrow. gesture, something came whizzing | through the air, leaving a trail of spit- ting sparks upon the night, then strik- ing squarely against the broad breast of the Happy-go-lucky Sport. Swift as thought itself Black Dog made a grasp—by wonderful luck actually catching the fiery missile as it rebounded, and hurling it away with lightning | quickness. Not even the part of a second too) quickly, either, for, as the missile left his hands—almost before it could fairly leave them, it seemed—a tremendous ex- plosion took place, throwing the two pards to earth, sending them sprawl- ing and rolling away, separated, and neither knowing what evil might have befallen his mate. There followed a slighter crash; .the tumbling of boards and timbers where | a shanty was completely wrecked by | that exploding bomb, for such the fiery | missile surely must have been! | The entire town seemed fairly shaken | up by that explosion, and the lumbering | sound itself had not time to die entirely away before other sounds came to fill its | place; shouts and cries, shrieks and | screams of feminine terror. ~ The pards were partially stunned by | the explosion and fall combined, the | wind fairly driven out of them for} the moment. Headlong Hugh was first to rally, scrambling to his feet and dashing hand | across his dust-blinded eyes as he roared | forth something; a call to his pard, no} doubt. ) So Chonesta evidently interpreted that | bellow, for he made answer while dizzily | climbing to his feet: ; “ Here—all right, and—you, Eddlong? ” * Sound enough, only for—what the devil was it, anyway?” “Dynamite, by the smell, I just caught | sight of—” “T know! I saw the sparks, and was hit—the dirty devil! Which way did he; gZ0? ” The enraged sport, now beginning to realize what a dastardly attempt upon their lives had been made, gripped re- volver and brushed hand over eyes to clear his vision, while glaring around in quest of the vile assassin. But nothing like a man caught his sight, and Black Dog, gripping an arm, | in low tones called attention to those nearing sounds, “They’re coming this way, Hugh! If we don’t want to—” With marvelous rapidity the Happy- go-lucky Sport regained something of his usual coolness, and gripping arm in turn he spoke swiftly: “We'd run right into rather than away from them, Black Dog. And that might lead to their mistaking us for the rascally cur who—steady!’” Half-wild with excitement and curios- ity combined, scores of citizens were now afoot, flocking toward the quarter from whence that startling sound came. Already the two pards were hemmed in, and making a virtue of necessity, Headlong Hugh raised his voice in a sonorous shout: “This way, all! Stop and hold any devil you find sneaking in the other di- rection, men of Hardpan!”’ With that voice to guide them, only a few seconds elapsed ere the foremdst of that startled crowd came to the scene, asking questions and uttering cries of indignant amaze as they looked upon the ruin caused by. that miscreant’s mis- sile. Its whole force had centered upon a building directly opposite the point to which the pards had attained when the bomb or cartridge was hurled at Head- long Hugh. The house was ruined past redemp- tion, timbers torn and splintered into kindling-wood, only a fragment stand- ing erect, to still further emphasize that awful force, Fortunately, the building had been va- cated, and, with the exception of a few superficial cuts and bruises received by the pards when hurled endlong by the force of the explosion, no harm had been done to mortal being. The next few minutes were taken up with hasty explanations and no less hur- ried queries; every, man and woman con- gregating there wanted to learn all about the ugly affair. Hugh Eddlong was willing enough to tell all he knew, which-—was but little beyond the visible fact of an explosion. “The dirty whelp never showed up long enough to let us tell what he might be, or what he looked like, you under- stand?” “It was a man, wasn’t it?” “ Something made up in the shape of a man, rather. No man would come at another fellow like this!’’ sweeping hand around toward yonder wrecked building. ; And I'd give my. best finger just to know what and who that same dirty whelp of Satan really is!” Black Dog said nothing, as usual leav- ing the Happy-go-lucky Sport to speak for them both. He merely shrunk back when that valuble-tongued pard told all present how the Injun saved both of their lives through his rare presence of mind. “T saw the spitting devil in air, and I felt it strike me right here,” he said, tap- ping his broad bosom, ‘I knew, some- thing like a fool in a half-waking dream, that mischief was in the air, but—that’s all I did know, and mighty, sight more than I would have known a moment later, only for Black Dog. yonder!” Eddlong told how the redskin caught and instantly passed the infernal ma- | chine on, to spend its main force upon yonder ruin. “Only for that, I do reckon our ribs would have been sticking up in air pretty, mueh like yonder studding!” he declared, then altering both tone and manner as he spoke on: “ Now, everybody! I didn’t seethat devil clearly enough to locate him, body or phiz, but this much I’ve got to say: Find who he was, and let me know while there’s life enough left in his hide for just ten seconds’ worth of fun, and I’ll pay a cou- ple of hundred dollars—just for good luck to the finder!” With this offer as a further incentive to work, the crowd began to widen out in search of a possible clew'to the author of that dastardly outrage; but Headlong Hugh was not quite done with the men of Hardpan, and so called forth in clear tones: “Just one thing more, gentlemen, please! ” That hint proved to be sufficient, and when he saw that all eyes were turning his way, the Happy-go-lucky Hercules spoke on: < “Hope you'll overlook my slipping in a word or two of business, my good friends, but it’s an honest fact that you are, one and all, more or less deeply con- cerned in the affair, after all.” “What is it, pardner?” asked one of that gathering. “About che Homestake Mine. You may have heard that Seneca Spotts- round is laying claim to the property, but I’m here to represent the rights of the now sole owner, Harry Marquedue—” “Whar’s the rope?” called forth a lusty voice from the shadows. “Tf the rope is lacking, the bull-calf is on deck!” retorted the sport, defiant- ly. “A coward chipped in right then, and I'll give him cash enough to keep him on a drunk for one solid week if he can pluck up courage enough to step out in the clear and say it all over!” Sudden silence reigned. No response came to that offer, and with a wave of hand, as though wafting the fraud away, Headiong Hugh spoke further: “As white men and- honest citizens, gentlemen, you are deeply interested in seeing this thatter settled according to law and justice. For that reason, then,
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_ Headlong Hugh, the Man-to-Tie-To. 31 I ask one and all of you—which leaves out the riff-raff and curs like the one who yelped but a bit since—to be on deck at the Homestake Mine to-morrow forenoon. Will you come?” “You just bet we will, sport!” “Good enough! Now, good-night to ye all, for I’m sleepy and have a couple of nights to make up for. Come, Injun; let’s be mogging along!” The two pards moved off in the direc- tion of the hotel cnce more. CHAPTER XXXI. THR HOMESTAKE CLAIMANTS. In spite of all that had passed, and all that doubtless yet lay before him, Hugh Eddlong slept long and soundly, not lift- ing head from pillow until the morning sun was well in sight beyond the east- ern hills. Although it had been his intention to be quite early upon the debatable ground, the Happy-go-lucky Sport would not slight his breakfast or cut that animal enjoyment short. “Take your time and make the most of it, Injun,” ne advised. “ There’s no tell- ing how soon ye’ll need the good of it, nor how long it’ll be before we get an- other whack at a table so well supplied.” Black Dog grunted, doubtless in as sent, for he certainly was no laggard with knife and fork. Then, each one smoking a cigar as good as the hotel bar could provide, the pards moved off in the direction of the Homestake. Not being inconveniently crowded by either friend or enemy, some confidential talk was indulged in by the way, but when they won a point from whence their first view of the disputed property could be had, both men stopped short, while Chonesta let fall something which was more than mere surprise. Doubtless in hopes of both hearing and seeing something well worth the trouble they were taking, a large crowd had as- sembled near the Homestake, where sun- dry, changes had been wrought very’re- cently. Among these showed quite a formida- ble-looking stockade of hastily thrown together timbers, blocking all admission to the tunnel-mouth, as well as to the rude office buildings hard by. “Looks Like it meant business, for a fact!” coolly commented Headlong Hugh, then moving leisurely forward once more, Black Dog following after the old fashion, black eyes glittering and bronzed hands tightly gripping Winchester. Appearing not at all abashed or em- parrassed, the sport gave cool greeting to one and all of the citizens there as- sembled, then cast a keen glance over that barricade. Rather less formidable than it had ap- peared from a distance, and hardly one fitted for repulsing a strong, well-armed, and determined force, if well officered; still, it was sufficient to lend confidence to such fellows as were likely to be manning the place, just now. “Looks as though some idiot had been taken with a claim-jumping fancy,” was his easy comment, when that inspection was completed, “ Who’s at the bottom of it, gentlemen?” There was no hesitation in giving an answer, and at least a dozen voices called out the name of Hardpan’s rustler, Seneca Spottsround. Of course this was no surprise to the Happy-go-lucky Sport, after his recent interview with the capitalist, yet he affected amazement. “Not that I blame a fellow for want- ing to own such a bonanza, you mind, but because I'd hardly take such a man for an everyday thief!” “Speak up louder, sport, so he can hear ye,” called forth one of the citi- zens. ‘‘ He’s in yonder, now!” “Ts that so? Then—I say, you fellow with nails and lumber to waste!”’ A brief silence after this whimsical glimpse could be caught through the stockade of men bustling about, then a rude gate was swung open barely far enough to permit a -single man to slip through, then closed again. A mutter of growing interest ran around the crowd of spectators, for all could recognize Seneca Spottsround, and all could see that the mine-owner was thoroughly armed, just as though he counted on war. Headlong Hugh took a cool survey, while the capitalist was advancing in that direction, and never a word crossed his lips until Mr. Spottsround was nigh to hand “Ah, you, is it, sir?” he said, at length, giving a feigned start, as of sur- prise. “Surely you haven’t been so foolishly extravagant as to throw away both work and money, building on an- other man’s property? ” “T deny having done either, Mr. Edd- long,’” was the cold retort. Headlong Hugh waved hand toward the stockade as he asked: “Then what does all this mean, sir?” “Nothing more than that I mean to defend my property. against any and all pretenders who may come this. way. Have you any further objections to offer, sir?” ““Well, for a starter, how’s this: The property isn’t yours, never was yours, never will be yours.” “T’ve heard that two negatives make an affirmative, but I never knew that three lies could be footed up as one truth,” retorted Spottsround, who seemed to care little how soon the matter might come to a crisis. “Wait, please,” and the Happy-go- lucky Sport seemed to grow more bland and smiling the harsher terms were used. ‘I gave you fair warning only last night that this claim belonged wholly and solely to—’ “Myself! I have the papers to show for it whenever one with authority ‘to ask such a favor wishes to examine them.” “Don’t over-run the scent, please, my dear fellow. Nothing like getting at these matters in orderly fashion. So—as a starter: I demand full and immediate possession of the Homestake workings, before all of these reputable witnesses.” “By what shadow of right, even?” “By the*full right of ownership, if you are determined to spar against all rea- son, Mr. Spottsround. The Homestake Mine, with all its claims, now belongs wholly to me, individually!” In spite of his cool and steady nerve, Seneca Spottsround seemed just a little taken aback by this terse statement, al- though he rallied as swiftly, demanding in harsh tones: = “What sort of proof can you have to back up such utterly preposterous claims, Mr. Eddlong? I hardly like to accuse you of lying, or even trying to run in a bare- faced fraud—’ “Well, now, I really wouldn’t advise you to go quite that far, my dear fellow. For one thing, I have the documents to back up my claims, nor am I afraid to let any and every man in or near Hard- pan take a fair look at them.” “What manner of documents, pray?” “What’s the matter with a bill of sale?” “Nothing, provided it is regular. Mine is that, which brands the one you claim to hold as fraudulent on the fece of it!” “Touch lightly, please! My bill is signed by the then sole owner, Harry Marqueduc, who is—” “A runaway assassin, with a reward put upon his head! A red-handed fraud, who sold his share of the Homestake to the nartner whom he afterward so brutally stabbed to death!” sternly cried Spottsround, fairly thrown off his balance by this cool assurance. Under ordinary circumstances such words would have precipitated a fight, My ~ Serer ing an unusual hand for one of his fiery nature, and listened through all that outburst with cool composure. “Look ye here, Mr. Spottsround,” he said, speaking in even tones, although his big brown eyes were fairly aglow with suppressed emotions. ‘“ You’re talk- ing of my pard, my almost brother. A. whiter, cleaner, honester lad never trod the footstool than Harry Marqueduc!” “A branded assassin! A common cheat, who first sold his claim, then comes back with forged papers which—’” “Stop right where you are, Mr. Spotts- round,” sternly interrupted Headlong Hugh, one hand slipping inside his breast for the papers spoken of, while the other was flung up in a restraining gesture. There was a bare possibility that this double gesture was misunderstood by the armed mercenaries yonder back of the stockade. The two men were but a short dis- tance apart, and as he spoke Headlong Hugh took a single step nearer his ad- versary, making that impulsive gesture; but nothing» was further from his thoughts than a blow. Yet from yonder stockade there came a bull-like roar, out of which could be distinguished the words: “Don’t ye slug him, ye overgrown devil! Don’t ye—take that!”’ A sharp explosion followed, the rifle shot plainly coming from that speaker, and with an involuntary cry the Happy- go-lucky Sport staggered back, one hand clapped against his side. But, screaming like one in horrible agony, Seneca Spottsround spun _ half- way, around, falling heavily to earth! CHAPTER XXXII, THE HAPPY-GO-LUCKY SPORT ON TOP. Shrill and fierce burst a yell fromthe Injun Pard, and almost like an echo his Winchester cracked, sending a pellet of lead straight as the finger of fate into that little cloud of blue vapor, through that loophole, and crashing through skin, bone, brain, and all—swiftly avenging that fall without! Headlong Hugh swiftly rallied, his hand clasped over the hunting-cased watch to which he almost surely owed his life. “Down ’em, lads!” he roared, charg- ing in company with his red-skinned pard upon the'stockade. ‘ Take pay for murdering Spottsround, anyway!” Almost as a single man the crowd surged forward, yelling in. mad rage, stirred as they seldom were by that das- tardly attempt at murder before their very eyes. A few cast glances toward the fallen capitalist, who now lay like a dead man, but not one lingered to lend him aid; one and all seemed set on fire by that fierce call and headlong example. The men within the stockade seemed taken as wholly by surprise, yet far less swift to rally; and it was not until Hugh, with Black Dog close to his shoulder, had fairly gained the stockade that one of the mercenary gang took thought of the firearms which Seneca Spottsround had supplied them with for holding the mine. There was a mad rush and scramble; a wild uproar, where each man made noise enough for a round dozen; a fight at the stockade, but one which lasted barely a minute after Headlong Hugh picked up his pard and fairly tossed him over the barrier, then splintered a couple of pine plank with savage thrusts of his booted heel. Once within the stockade the end came right swiftly, although the Homestake was not won without loss; blood flowed freely, and there were two other knaves ready to keep Bulldog Ben Beebe passage across the Styx when the glad shout of victory went up in good earnest. ° One of the citizens had been killed out- right, and several others received hurts but just then Headlong Hugh was play-! of more or less gravity; but Headlong
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Headlong Hugh the Man-to-Tie-To. Hugh had eyes and care for one being As fate would have it, Spottsround saw alone; for a pard whose fall had come} that coming together, and the actual to his knowledge first through the} collision was delayed sufficiently long for startled cry which shaped the words: him to clap on a disguise, then start out “Look! The Injun isn’t—white hide, | from cover to stab—Harry Marqueduc, as by thunder!” he believed, until the fatal blow was An instant later the Hercules Sport} struck! was standing over the prostrate figure Owen Quinn was the only eye witness of he who had recently figured as Black | to that foul blow, and he was not actually Dog, guns in hand and voice ringing | sure Seneca Spottsround played the as- forth in fierce menace: sassin, until after a series of tests which “Stand back, the pile o’ ye! I’ll kill | he cunningly. carried out to his own sat- { the devil who dares even point a crooked | isfaction. finger at this—my pard!” With the light already cast upon the -half score seconds thus, then Head- | bold plot by Spottsround himself, nothing long Hugh picked up the wounded man, | further need be said’ on this particular ; holding him on broad bosom, while he] point. Enough that his daring schemes =) ! backed into the adit, a veritable lion at| were foiled by, the touch of death—aj] > 5 y! death intended for a vastly better man. “Back, one and all!” he shouted. Owen Quinn declared that Bulldog ‘ “Back, I say! I’ll clean out the whole| Ben hurled that dynamite cartridge, hop- town if you dare come for my. pard!” ing to thus effectually, dispose of the Sundry ominous cries were heard, and} dangerous sport; but more than one be- threats were spoken, but no man cared | lieved that the Irishman himself had to take the lead where such a defender | made the futile attempt at murder. was giving fair warning; and then—the Ginger Chump was one of the men necessity soon vanished! killed while trying to hold the stockade, Among the wounded was Owen Quinn, | and thus his share in that decoy-note and his nerve all melted away when he| and death-trap affair was fully avenged. heard threats of bringing the rope into Shortly before the heavy stupor of such play, if only, to avenge the dastardly | a death fairly deadened his senses, Sen- | shot which had so strangely laid Seneca | eca Spottsround told how and why, that ; Spottsround low. note was written, and made perfectly “'T was Bulldog Binny, sors!” groaned | clear the manner in which Dick Tate met ; ) the terrified wretch, shivering more} his just reward. : through terror of’ the rope than from All of this, naturally, was a sad and ‘ his wounds. “ An’—divil take me wid-| heavy blow to Jasper Spottsround, who out absolution av Sphottsround worn’t— | certainly merited a better father; but he stobbed Moiles Rockweed, thin!” Polly managed to win the “ red-head” It seemed an utterly preposterous | from his despondency, and in due course . charge, and not one of those who caught | of time the twain became as one. F the words placed faith in the revelation; At nearly the same date, Harry Mar- Sie Ba yet the renewed mention of that name, | queduc placed a ring upon a certain fin- B® coupled with the recent tragedy, caused | ger of pretty Milly Fickeson’s left hand, ; ee - attention to be turned in that direction, | and gave her his first kiss as—not Black ; Ma ae and Seneca Spottsround was found alive, | Dog, but—her husband! “ty = far from being a corpse, yet surely with Both Headlong Hugh and the original : : prs mee a mortal wound. Chonesta were’ guests upon that happy a The bullet intended by the revengeful | occasion, and the most honored ones} Bulldog Beebe struck the heavy gold | but that goes without question, of course. watch worn by Headlong Hugh in vest Lacking a genuine parent, worthy May~ pocket, then glanced aside to tear ajor Strong filled the place of proud ragged way. through the abdomen of the| father, so far as “giving the bride capitalist, inflicting an injury from | away.” was concerned; and then bantered which recovery was impossible! the Happy-go-lucky Sport to a drinking Hugh Eddlong learned something of} bout for the championship of Hardpan, all this from where he stood at bay in | all to be in honor of the bridal couple! front of the wounded Harry Marqueduc, And for once in his eventful career, let and when convinced that the whole truth | {t be recorded that—in place of taking was about to come out, he called a truce, | whisky, the sport took water! entering into compact with Mayor Strong, Having seen his “ side-partner” safely ag Chief of the Hardpan Vigilantes, that | through his sore troubles, leaving him [> no attempt should be made upon his] blessed beyond compare, Happy-go-lucky = pard’s life within the week. Hugh bade all a jolly farewell, saying: * And before that we’ll have him show- “T’ve had a polite sufficiency of life ing as clear from guilt as’ ‘you or I, Jim- | in town, people. I’m going off on the my!” declared the Happy-go-lucky Sport, tramp once more!” * Me too, you bet!” echoed a. Dog, oh ‘And go it proved, not only inside of a | the Cherokee. ~ Ihe week, but before another day had come THE END. a and fairly, spent itself. _ §$eneca Spottsround was removed to his ———s own residence, there to receive the best of attention; but from the very first Dr. ‘ ts Branscombe had no hope to offer, grave- : : ; : See ty warning the mine magnate that death was certain, being bat a question of ‘hours. At first the patient refused to give ta ; je these words credence, but his iron nerve began to give way, and long enough be- fore grim death claimed its rights the whole story was told and the truth made |. clear. For many months past—ever since the ‘wonderful richness of the claim had been made manifest—Seneca Spottsround had] _ been plotting and scheming how he could P easiest get hold of the Homestake. ; Thanks to the peculiarly worded con- tract which the pards had signed in com- 4 % mon, his task was rendered well-nigh ~ hopeless, until— | -: , | An adroit, unscrupulous man can work ose es : oh “much harm with his tongue, and so the ree sre: . sae : Pee eat See e result being Rie ee . mage paca Spee Se ¥ <