Clarence Edward Mulford

NEWS ALL AROUND

At daylight Jerry went on his way rejoicing; the round-up started again in full swing on the SV, crossing the line onto Triangle range, to the later astonishment and vexation of Frank Gurley, Triangle rider on that section, whose hasty visit to his bunkhouse aroused a lively discussion, fortified him with Sam Gardner and Jim Lefferts to protect the interests of their ranch, and upon their return to the scene of activity, fortified Cimarron's smiling, but firm outfit, with three more men. In Highbank, Wolf Forbes, penniless now, was beginning to go without liquor and drift toward soberness, and the lambent flame of his reawakened anger burned constantly stronger; while out on the Double X, Johnny and the sleeping members of that outfit awoke to a new day's work, and to a firmer and warmer bond between them. The Bar H awakened to a new puzzle; the mysterious disappearance of Smitty and the discussion which followed his inexplicable absence resulted in Dahlgren being dispatched to Gunsight to see if the erring puncher had yielded to his well-known thirst and might be found snoring in that vicinity. Also, he was to keep an eye out for Wolf, and to make cautious inquiry concerning him.

Dahlgren was most successful in his mission, accumulating a fund of information staggering in its total and barren of reason. His first accretion of wisdom came when he left East Canyon and descried numerous punchers zealously bent upon an operation well known to him, and he rode up for what information he might be able to obtain. Hoping for a full loaf, expecting a half, he left with a few crumbs which only increased his appetite for more. In Gunsight his appearance caused unnecessary hilarity, and his questions as to Smitty's location were received with impolite guffaws, followed by an explicit description of Smitty's riding, looks, words, and actions, coupled to various prophesies, variously stated. When he mentioned Wolf, a veritable gale of laughter deafened and confused him, and the roundabout, cryptic, and fragmentary references to Wolf taxed his brain. He gathered the information that Wolf was wrapped in hides as his preference in perfumes; that Wolf was in the skin business, without competitors; that he had descended in the social scale to the point where he traveled as freight; that he took an arduous, unnecessary, and uncomfortable journey and was to be known, henceforth and hereafter, as Polecat, a name being better suited to his habits and preferences. It was explained that he was not expected back, which accounted for the half-masted flags and the black bands on the hats. He learned that Smitty was on the trail of Squint and would catch him if he went far enough in the right direction, and that Polecat was on the trail of Smitty, but would have to ride hard; and a further suggestion postulated the belief that Squint was on the trail of Wolf. Gunsight was as generous in its liquor as it was in its explanations; it was open-handed and lavish, and insisted that the distinguished Bar H ambassador imbibe freely, which he did; and when he was helped into his saddle and started for home, he tried to repeat what he had heard so that he would not forget it; and by the time he reached the bunkhouse he had not forgotten anything but the relations between the various parts of each thing to be remembered, and his account was verbal hash. Big Tom learned, among other things equally lucid and valuable, that Polecat Forbes went after Squint hunting Smitty's holy hat rounding up SV cows on the Double X part of the Triangle journey and would not be back until forty miles of hides went up toward Juniper with Two-Spot keeping tally on Cimarron's wagon.

In the presence of such loquacity, Big Tom lost the power of speech, choked with feelings of a murderous kind, and used the flat of his foot as a propulsive agent, which Dahlgren found helped him in getting to his bunk, where he sprawled out on his back and snored through a cloud of flies foregathered for their share of what had dribbled.

The foreman strode to the horse corral, swearing at every step, caught, saddled, and mounted his best horse and rode off to see and hear for himself. The first man he met was Cimarron, who was expecting visitors after Dahlgren's departure, and had placed himself where he would be seen easily. The segundo had been thinking things over and had about come to the conclusion that it would be foolish to try to deny the part the Double X was taking in the round-up; and when he caught sight of Big Tom riding toward him a feeling of contempt swept over him and decided the question.

"There's more excitement on this ranch than I've seen in some time," smiled the Bar H foreman. "Makin' a clean sweep of everythin' that's got hoofs?"

"Clean is th' word," answered Cimarron, his smile as friendly as the visitor's. "I reckon Lin is mebby thinkin' more about beef, though."

"Aimin' to start a herd up th' trail?"

"I don't just know what dickerin' there may come out of this," answered the round-up boss. "He says for me to take some of th' boys an' round up over here. There's no tellin' what he may do. I know that I can report that there's quite some four-year-olds, an' a few three-year-olds. Where th' devil th' cattle under four years old are keepin' themselves I don't know. But if he's aimin' to throw in a herd for Arnold an' send 'em up th' trail with some of ours they'll be numerous enough to make a showin'. He may be gettin' sweet on this ranch, because of them Snake Buttes thieves. If he is, I reckon Arnold wouldn't turn down a fair cash offer for grazin' a couple of herds over here through th' fall an' winter. He's got room for three times th' number feedin' here now."

"There ain't no doubt about that," answered Big Tom. "When are you aimin' to round up for strays on our north end?"

"Why, there can't be many over there," replied Cimarron. "Th' natural barriers would keep 'em back. Have you noticed any?"

"Nary a one; but if you want to make shore, I'll lend you a couple of th' boys, 'though I'm shore gettin' short of men."

"If you say you ain't seen none, that's good enough for me until th' spring round-up, anyhow; an' then we can start combin' at the same time, if we do th' work for th' SV, of course."

"What's Arnold askin' for th' SV, lock, stock, an' barrel?" bluntly asked Big Tom.

"Don't know," answered Cimarron, surprised. "I don't reckon Lin would consider buyin' it, 'less, mebby, he could sell th' Double X. But what's th' use of you an' me talkin' about that? I don't know nothin' except orders, an' th' only orders I got was to run this round-up an' get back as soon as I can. I'll be leavin' you now, for I'm workin' harder than any man here, which shore is sayin' somethin'."

"An' I got to be ridin' on," said the Bar H foreman, and he made the words good. Reaching the Doc's shack, he dismounted and went inside, where he remained for nearly an hour, came out, glanced at the bullet holes and then went on to town, where he found the saloon deserted except for the proprietor.

Dave looked up and let his hand rest on the cap-and-ball under the bar, said cap-and-ball being .44 caliber, with the annoying habit of often sending one through the barrel, and igniting the caps on the nearest chambers and sending their contents along each side of the barrel with roving commissions.

"Well, Dave!" smiled Big Tom, motioning for a drink that he did not want, "I'm lookin' for strays—two-laigged strays."

"What you wants is another outfit to ride herd on this one," sympathized Dave. "Lookin' for Smitty?"

"He's one of 'em. Have you seen him?"

"I have. He didn't stop here, so I don't know where he got it," said the proprietor, grinning; "but from th' way he acted, insultin' folks, I reckon he must 'a' been bit by a passel of snakes, an' took too much cure."

"That's th' worst of them sponges," regretted Big Tom, a scowl going over his face. "I don't mind a periodic if there's plenty of time in between; but Smitty's periodics are like th' days in th' week durin' a round-up—they come too close together. Have you seen any others?"

"I ain't—not since Wolf was in here one afternoon last week," answered Dave. "Let's see: that was th' day Ol' Buffalo come down from Sherman, which would make it on a Friday. But," he said sorrowfully, "I has had distressin' news about Wolf. Young Jerry Wheatley, who's freightin' now, stopped in here only last night an' says Wolf was down in Highbank drinkin' 'em out of everything but water. He says yore puncher was on th' worst bender he's seen in months, which I says means somethin', comin' from a town like Highbank."

Big Tom's fist crashed on the bar. "Cuss it!" he exclaimed wrathfully, "that's th' worst of them periodics! You can't never tell when they'll start, an' nobody knows when they'll stop!"

"You lose, both ways," nodded Dave. "Jerry says he didn't have no hoss, saddle, or guns; an' a man can travel rapid on what they'd sell for."

"They wouldn't buy th' cayuse," reflected Big Tom, "seein' as he ain't supposed to own no Bar H animal. But I reckon it might 'a' strayed th' Lord only knows how far. We ain't noticed no cayuse missin', so far, but that don't mean nothin'. All right! He can come back when he goes broke an' sobers up an' he can walk, d—n him! Was Lang with him?"

"Lang? Is he missin', too?" Dave's astonishment was genuine.

"Disappeared like th' earth swallowed him," growled Big Tom. "They've hunted all over for him, an' can't find nothin' at all. I'm sayin' this country is goin' loco; an' I'll give a hundred dollars cash to find out what's at th' bottom of it all. Why, cuss it! Sherwood is roundin' up for the SV—what's th' matter with him? Is he loco, too?"

"Mebby he figgers on makin' them idle punchers of his'n bring in somethin' besides appetites," guessed Dave. "I don't blame him at all."

"Mebby; but they acts like they was havin' a picnic out there. Have you heard anythin' about th' Double X startin' a herd of their own up on th' trail?"

"Not a word; but ain't they throwin' their cattle into McCullough's this year?"

"They're supposed to; but you can't never tell," answered the foreman. He glanced around and then looked fixedly at his companion. "Yo're not forgettin' what I said about a hundred dollars cash, are you?" he asked.

"That's somethin' I ain't likely to forget," replied Dave ambiguously, "if you mean it, shore."

"I'm meanin' it 'though I ain't wantin' you to have no rivals," replied Big Tom, significantly. "You hears an' sees a lot in here an' there ain't no use of lettin' anybody else in on it, an' splittin' up with you."

"There ain't nobody else goin' to get in on it," truthfully assured Dave.

"Nelson got over his grouch ag'in' wimmin?" laughed the foreman.

"Don't reckon so; but he ain't seen her yet, I guess," replied Dave, grinning. "When he does, there ain't no tellin' what's goin' to happen to him. Don't it beat all? You better look out, Tom; he may edge you out of th' game."

"Me!" demanded the foreman. He let out a roar of laughter. "I ain't got no interest thataway at all. I passed, cold." He turned away. "Don't forget Dave."

"Goin' so soon?"

"Yes; I'm ridin' back. Adios."

Dave stared out of the window for a few minutes, his face slowly getting redder. "Yo're lyin', Big Tom," he muttered. "Yo're aimin' to get that girl more'n ever you was. An', d—n yore shriveled soul! Do I look like a Judas?"

Down on the SV, Cimarron was weighing something in his mind. Perhaps he had said too much to the Bar H foreman. Coming to a sudden decision he rode over to Bud Norris.

"Hello, Boss!" said Bud, grinning from ear to ear. "Big Tom's visit ridin' you?"

"Bud, we've got enough men here for this toy round-up," replied Cimarron. "There ain't no use of robbin' th' ranch of a man that ain't really needed here, an' I'm wishin' to send word to Lin by somebody who won't shuffle it. Now, you listen close," and the round-up boss gave him the facts of Big Tom's visit. "Tell him that, an' what I said. He ought to know my leads in case that big coyote rides out to th' house an' gets curious. Now you tell me what I've just told you." Bud complied, and when he had finished, his companion nodded. "Big Tom ain't seen you. You go north, foller th' Juniper trail back, an' don't pass within sight of th' Doc's place. Tell Lin to keep you with th' outfit—I don't need you here, an' he's too short handed. Get a-goin'."

Bud obeyed and in due time he came within sight of Gunsight, where a growing thirst lured him to ride in for a visit at Dave's. The proprietor still was smarting under the sting of Big Tom's attempt to bribe him and was glad to see someone who would help him get his mind on pleasant subjects. Dave regarded the story of the kidnapping of Wolf as being in that category, and when Bud left he was howling with laughter, and drove his horse toward home at a speed which awakened a resentful surprise in that animal.

"Th' locoed sons-of-guns!" repeated the delighted rider at intervals. "I knowed we had some locoed sage hens under our roof, but I thought they had limits! Why th' devil wasn't I in on that? I'm stickin' too close to home nights; but not no more. Any future Double X parties goin' to Gunsight will shore have little Buddie right in their midst! Th' nervy coyotes! Th' stem-windin' fools! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Further on he gave vent to another burst of laughter as a new thought struck him. "It's all Nelson's fault. Cuss it! now I know why there has been so much hilarity about th' kidnappin' of th' Doc! They was plannin' to go it one better—an' I'm sayin' that they shore succeeded. They aimed purty high, but they done it, an' without even a scratch. I wonder who put th' sand burr under Smitty's saddle? Cuss that west section! I'm goin' to change an' ride our southeast line!"

When he pulled up at the bunkhouse door he found Lin and two other men who had ridden the last trick on the west section and he delivered Cimarron's message as soon as he dismounted. Answering the foreman's few questions, he let out a whoop and unburdened his news about Wolf and Smitty, painting the word pictures in a way which did him credit, and he felt the thrill of pride of an artist in the responses he obtained. After the greater pressure of their hilarity had escaped they began the puzzle of trying to name the jokers, and their foreman did that for them.

"Friday night," mused Lin. "Huh! Th' last that went to town was Slim, Tom, Gus, an' Bill. An' it was Friday night, too, because they said somethin' about hearin' Buffalo rumblin' in. That makes it Friday night, an' puts 'em in town when th' wagon was there. Well, I'm d—d! I can believe it of Slim and Tom, purty near, but not Bill an' Gus; still, there ain't no tellin' what any man of this fool outfit will do after he's been in Dave's all evenin'. I'm sayin' that mebby they got a tail holt on a mean varmint; that's their business, 'though, an' they ain't helpless kids."

"Mebby Wolf don't know who done it, but blames us all," suggested Rich Morgan, unconsciously resting his hand on the butt of his gun. "In which case I'm all eyes an' ears from now on."

"He knows who was in town that night," replied the foreman. "But if he goes shootin' promisciously like, I'll have to take my rifle an' go get him, an' any way will do." He thought for a moment. "He knows who to look for. Well, they started it, an' nobody's got any right to help 'em out, not if he goes about it open an' aboveboard. Now, if Big Tom Huff comes a-visitin', you don't know nothin' at all. Cimarron sort of declared us in an' I'll play our cards, myself. You better fix that horse corral. There's five posts loose near th' northeast corner. Set 'em tight an' bind around th' corner with a couple strands of wire. Keep it outside as much as you can so th' barbs won't do no damage. Th' locoed fools—kidnappin' a man like Wolf!"

"Wait till Nelson comes in tonight," exulted Deuce, who by this time had learned quite a lot about the old Bar-20 outfit. "We got somethin' that beats th' kidnappin' of th' Doc every way!"

"Huh!" muttered the foreman thoughtfully. "That was th' night Dailey played in such hard luck, wasn't it? Shore it was. Then Nelson was there, too." He paused and looked out of the window for a moment. "Well, go out an' wrestle with them posts. Bud, you go on day shift with Tom an' Nelson. I'm takin' th' second night shift with Bill an' Gus."

Darkness had fallen when Johnny and Tom Wilkes rode in from the day shift after being relieved by the first night shift. They had heard the bare outlines of the joke, and now got it as completely as the foreman could give it to them while they ate their supper. Johnny looked serious and did not laugh as much as they had expected he would.

"What's th' matter, Nelson?" bantered Matt. "Jealous?"

Johnny pushed back. "Boys, you've forced my hand. I wasn't goin' to say nothin' to nobody about some few things till I had made all th' plays I was aimin' to make. But this here joke on Wolf, gettin' out like it did, shore forces me to lay down my cards, face up. An' I want th' whole range to see 'em—to spread th' news before it's too late. It ain't my way to sneak out of anythin' I've started an' let some innocent party take th' comeback. I freighted Wolf away; I shot th' holes in Smitty's hat; I drove Squint out of th' country; I kidnapped th' Doc, an' I killed Lang in a fair fight, his wits ag'in' mine, in fair sight of each other, when I was mired in them cussed quicksands. I can prove what I say by showin' where Squint's things are hid, by Wolf's six-gun, that I kept to remember him by, an' by describin' what them holes in Smitty's hat looked like. I was savin' Wolf's gun to show it to him, sometime, an' ask him if he couldn't take a joke. Now I ain't apologizin' to nobody for nothin' I've done. I claim I was justified—an' I'll leave it to you if th' joke on Wolf wasn't a hummer? Wasn't it a three-ringer, with a side show? I says it was; an', further, I says I'll do it over again if I feel like it. No cussed man can spy on me without riskin' a comeback. An' I says there wasn't nothin' I could do to him that would 'a' been as good a joke as what I did do. Now, Sherwood, I better be ridin' to tell Cimarron's boys about it, so they won't be caught off their guard in case Wolf gets to them before he looks anywhere else. I'm wantin' to warn Slim 'specially—he was in town that night. Then I'll rustle to town an' stay there. I reckon he'll come to Gunsight, an' I'm aimin' to be there when he does, to ask him if I ain't the cussedest practical joker he ever knowed. If he's gone an' got on th' prod about a little joke like that, then I'll have to look out for myself. I'm startin' now."

"No use goin' now," said the foreman quickly. "That's a bad trail for a stranger to tackle at night, an' that cayuse of yourn is too good to risk bustin' her laigs. If you leave here before daylight—say half an hour before—tomorrow mornin', you'll be in plenty of time. Them boys ain't kids. I'm honin' to hear about these jokes, an' so are th' boys. You stay here, with us, tonight."

"Lin's dead right," earnestly endorsed Tom Wilkes, the others unanimously backing him up. "You ain't goin' till we hears about 'em—that is, of course, if you feels like tellin' us."

Johnny looked from one to another and then sat down again, and for the rest of the evening he had an audience which expressed its appreciation of what it heard, and in unrestrained enthusiasm. When he had finished and started to turn in, the foreman strode over to him and held out his hand.

"Nelson, I'm proud to know you. Put it there!"

The others shook his hand with an enthusiastic sincerity which warmed Johnny's heart, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.