Part 35 (1/2)

”I think I know,” said Lafe.

He left them and went in search of Ba.s.s. He could not find him at the house. Upon that he sped to the corrals, but Mordecai's horse was gone.

The half-breed Baptismo informed him that Ba.s.s had ridden off only a few minutes before. Johnson did not hesitate. He was no longer a sheriff, but he was boss of the Anvil range, and Anvil hospitality had been outraged and dishonored. He would track down the slayer. Arriving at this decision while Horne plied question on question without obtaining a reply, he went to inform Hetty.

”All right,” said that young woman sleepily. ”Take care of yourself.”

It is probable that in her drowsy state she did not appreciate his mission, else she would not have let him go so readily.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

HE ARRESTS A SUSPECT

Johnson caught his most dependable horse and rode out from the Anvil headquarters. Strapped to his hip was a .45 Colt and he had a 30-30 Winchester in his saddle holster. Florence Steel, on foot, overtook him at the gate of the home pasture.

”What's this I hear? Where're you going, Mr. Johnson?”

Lafe told her glibly that he had been sent by Mr. Horne to recover certain cattle which had been run off by hostile nesters during the festivities. It was true that some cattle had been stolen.

”Sure,” said Florence, gazing intently into his face. ”If you meet up with him, better watch out. A man who'll stab in the back will do most anything.”

”What do you know about this?”

”When you catch him,” the girl added, ”just give him this. Ask if this doesn't belong to him.” She thrust into Johnson's hand a large clasp knife. There were blood stains on the blades and handle. Lafe nodded and put it in his pocket. He did not even inquire how the girl had come by it.

About dusk, on the following day, Johnson sighted Ba.s.s moving quietly up a ravine on the west side of The Hatter. Some cottonwoods intervened to spoil a shot. Lafe made a detour and quickened his pace, hoping to head him off. As he emerged from the ravine on to a mesa, Ba.s.s perceived him. Instead of fleeing, he turned his horse and threw up an arm as a caution to Lafe to halt.

”What do you want?” he cried.

”I want you. Better come along quiet. It'll save trouble.”

”I wouldn't choose to, thanks. No. I reckon I won't.”

Johnson was not one to take chances with an a.s.sa.s.sin. He began to pump his Winchester. At the second shot Ba.s.s's horse lurched forward on to his knees with a scream and stretched out, its legs stiff. His rider scrambled clear and shot Johnson through the fleshy part of his right forearm before he could pull again.

The boss had drawn his six-shooter and was coming on. He coolly changed the weapon to his left hand and threw down on him at twenty yards.

It had often been a.s.serted in Badger that the sheriff could not miss at any distance under two hundred feet. This was scarcely an exaggeration.

He had pulled only once when Ba.s.s held up empty hands in token of surrender. His gun lay on the ground and two fingers of his right hand were gone.

”I reckon I ought to have killed you, Mordecai,” said Lafe, ”but I couldn't forget that me and you had slept under the same blankets. Do you remember that roundup on the Lazy L? What'd you do this for?”

”I knew you'd think I did it,” was all Ba.s.s said, and he began to make a ligature out of his handkerchief.

”Well, get up here in front and come along. We've got twenty-one miles ahead of us. Let's go.”

”I know what you want me for,” Ba.s.s said, ”but you're wrong, Lafe. I didn't do it.”