CHAPTER XXIV
TEX BORROWS A BLACKSNAKE
Dinsmore recovered from his wound and was held prisoner by CaptainEllison for a month after he was well. Then the ranger captain dismissedthe man with a warning.
"Skedaddle, you damn jayhawker," was his cavalier farewell. "But listen.If ever I get the deadwood on you an' yore outfit, I'll sure put youthrough. You know me, Dinsmore. I went through the war. For two years Itook the hides off'n 'em.[5] I'm one of the lads that knocked the barkoff this country. An' I've got the best bunch of man-hunters you everdid see. I'm not braggin'. I'm tellin' you that my boys will make youlook like a plugged nickel if you don't get shet of yore meanness.They're a hell-poppin' bunch of jim-dandies, an' don't you ever forgetit."
Homer Dinsmore spat tobacco-juice on the floor by way of expressing hiscontempt. "Hell!" he sneered. "We were doin' business in this neck ofthe woods before ever you come, an' we'll be here after you've gone."
The Ranger Captain gave a little shrug to his shoulders. "Some folksain't got any more sense than that hog rootin' under the pecan tree,Dinsmore. I've seen this country when you could swap a buffalo-bull hidefor a box of cartridges or a plug o' tobacco. You cayn't do it now, canyou? I had thirty wagons full of bales of hides at old Fort Griffin twoyears ago. Now I couldn't fill one with the best of luck. In five yearsthe buffaloes will be gone absolutely--mebbe in less time. The Indiansare goin' with the buffaloes-an' the bad-men are a-goin' to travel thesame trail. Inside of three years they'll sure be hard to find outsideof jails. But you got to go yore own way. You're hard to curry, an' youwear 'em low. Suits me if it does you. We'll plant you with yore bootson, one of these days."
Dinsmore swaggered from the jail and presently rode out of town to joinhis companions. Three days later an acquaintance stopped Jack Roberts onthe street.
"Seen Cap Ellison this mo'nin'? He was down at the shippin'-pen an'wanted to see you. The old man's hot as a ginger-mill about somethin'."
The Ranger strolled down toward the cattle-yards. On the way he metArthur Ridley. They had come to be pretty good friends in the pastmonth. The standards of the Texan were undergoing revision. He had beenbrought up in an outdoor school which taught that the rock-bottom factorof a man's character is gameness. Without it nothing else counted. Thiswas as vital for a man as virtue for a woman. But it had begun to reachhim that pluck is largely a matter of training. Arthur had lived soft,and his nerve, like his muscles, needed toughening. Were his gayety, hisloyalty, his fundamental decency, the affectionate sweetness of hisdisposition, to count for nothing? He had a dozen advantages that Jackhad not, and the cowboy admired him even though he was not hard as arock.
"Have you spoken to Captain Ellison yet?" asked Ridley eagerly.
"Says he's thinkin' about it, Art. There's goin' to be a vacancy on theforce soon. My notion is that you'll get the appointment."
It was a part of Ridley's charm for the Texan that he would not give upto his timidity. The young fellow meant to fight it out to a finish.That was one of the reasons why he wanted to join the Rangers, to be putin places that would force him to go through to a fighting finish. Hehad one other reason. Arthur wanted to settle a score with theDinsmores.
Captain Ellison was listening to the complaint of a drover.
"I aim to drive a clean herd, Cap, but you know how it is yore own self.I start to drive in the spring when the hair's long an' the brand's hardto read. By the time I get here, the old hair is fallin' out an' thebrand is plain. But what's a fellow to do? I cayn't drop thoseoff-brands by the way, can I? The inspector--"
"That's all right, Steel. The inspector knows you're on the level.Hello, Jack! I been lookin' for you."
The Captain drew his man to one side. "Steve Gurley's in town. He cameas a spokesman for the Dinsmores an' went to see Clint Wadley. The damnscoundrel served notice on Clint that the gang had written evidencewhich tied Ford up with their deviltry. He said if Clint didn't call meoff so's I'd let 'em alone, they would disgrace his son's memory. Ofcourse Wadley is all broke up about it. But he's no quitter. He knowsI'm goin' through, an' he wouldn't expect me not to do the work I'm paidfor."
"Do you want me to arrest Gurley?"
"Wouldn't do any good. No; just keep tabs on the coyote till he leavestown. He ought to be black-snaked, but that's not our business, Ireckon."
Ridley walked back with the Ranger toward the main street of the town.From round a corner there came to them a strident voice.
"You stay right here, missy, till I'm through. I'm tellin' you aboutyore high-heeled brother. See? He was a rustler. That's what he was--alow-down thief and brand-blotter."
"Let me pass. I won't listen to you." The clear young voice wasexpressive of both indignation and fear.
"Not a step till I'm through tellin' you. Me, I'm Steve Gurley, thecurly-haired terror of the Panhandle. When I talk, you listen.Un'erstand?"
The speech of the man was thick with drink. He had spent the night atthe Bird Cage and was now on his way to the corral for his horse.
"You take Miss Ramona home. I'll tend to Gurley," said Roberts curtly tohis friend. Into his eyes had come a cold rage Arthur had never beforeseen there.
At sight of them the bully's brutal insolence vanished. He tried to passon his way, but the Ranger stopped him.
"Just a moment, Gurley. You're goin' with me," said Jack, ominouslyquiet.
White and shaken, 'Mona bit her lip to keep from weeping. She flashedone look of gratitude at her father's former line-rider, and with alittle sob of relief took Ridley's offered arm.
"You got a warrant for me?" bluffed the outlaw.
At short range there is no weapon more deadly than the human eye. JackRoberts looked at the bully and said: "Give me yore gun."
Steve Gurley shot his slant look at the Ranger, consideredpossibilities--and did as he was told.
"Now right about face and back-track uptown," ordered the officer.
At McGuffey's store Jack stopped his prisoner. A dozen punchers andcattlemen were hanging about. Among them was Jumbo Wilkins. He had ablacksnake whip in his hand and was teasing a pup with it. The Rangerhanded over to Jumbo his guns and borrowed the whip.
Gurley backed off in a sudden alarm. "Don't you touch me! Don't you dasstouch me! I'll cut yore heart out if you do."
The lash whistled through the air and wound itself cruelly round thelegs of the bully. The man gave a yell of rage and pain. He lungedforward to close with Roberts, and met a driving left that caught himbetween the eyes and flung him back. Before he could recover the Rangerhad him by the collar at arm's length and the torture of the whip wasmaddening him. He cursed, struggled, raved, threatened, begged formercy. He tried to fling himself to the ground. He wept tears of agony.But there was no escape from the deadly blacksnake that was cutting hisflesh to ribbons.
Roberts, sick at the thing he had been doing, flung the shrieking manaside and leaned up against the wall of the store.
Jumbo came across to him and offered his friend a drink.
"You'll feel better if you take a swallow of old forty-rod," hepromised.
The younger man shook his head. "Much obliged, old-timer. I'm all rightnow. It was a kind of sickenin' job, but I had to do it or kill him."
"What was it all about?" asked Jumbo eagerly. The fat line-rider was agood deal of a gossip and loved to know the inside of every story.
Jack cast about for a reason. "He--he said I had red hair."
"Well, you old son of a mule-skinner, what's the matter with that? Youhave, ain't you?" demanded the amazed Wilkins.
"Mebbe I have, but he can't tell me so."
That was all the satisfaction the public ever got. It did a good deal ofguessing, however, and none of it came near the truth.
[Footnote 5: To "take the hides off'n 'em" was the expressivephraseology in which the buffalo-hunter described his business.]