Clarence Edward Mulford

THE MESSAGE

Dailey, seated at a table, the everlasting pack of cards in front of him, beamed upon Fanning and Johnny as they entered. "Thought mebby nobody was goin' to show up tonight," he said. "Dave's scared of me."

"I never did care much for wild animals," retorted Dave. "An' I says that you shore go wild when you sees a deck of cards. If you'd only win somethin' once in a while, I wouldn't have a word to say."

"That's what makes him wild," chuckled Fanning. "Ben, how much has Nelson taken away from you?"

"Not very much, an' I more than got it back from th' others," retorted Dailey. "If I only had his luck with my skill—but what's th' use?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"You shore has got to have plenty of luck with yore skill," jibed Dave, "or you wouldn't even have a shirt left."

"Lemme ask you somethin' seein' that you know so much about poker," said Fanning. "How far should a man back two pairs?"

"Them assassins? You get up to this table, you scoffin' innocent, an' I'll show you when you ought to let loose of two pair," chuckled Dailey. "Who's this comin'? Fraser! Come over here, Bill, an' help me rope a couple of tenderfeet into a little game of draw. They're shy tonight."

"Who's th' other, besides me?" inquired Fraser, leaning against the bar.

"Huh!" snorted Dailey. "All right, then; help me rope in th' other two."

"If I'm goin' to be yore come-on, what do I get out of it?" laughed Fraser.

"Every cussed thing you can get an' hold onto, but you'd better sand yore hands. Here's another sheep: Hello, Gurley! Yo're just in time to get a seat—I allus did like a five-handed game. Come on! Come on! Don't be afraid of th' iron!"

"Make it four-handed for a little while," said Johnny. "That'll give Dailey a chance to stack it up in front of him all ready for me. I ain't as good at draw as some down here, but I can allus take it away from Ben, somehow. How's things on th' Triangle, Gurley?"

"Slowin' fast since them Double X fellers moved off. They made me wear out four cayuses a day. When will they finish up?"

"Purty soon, I reckon," answered Johnny, turning to Fraser. "You fellers are lucky. You don't get many strays over th' mountain, or through that canyon, I reckon."

"Not any that I've noticed," replied Fraser. "But we've been plumb lazy in our round-ups. We got an awful sight of brandin' to do next time."

"That so?" asked Johnny. "Been takin' life easy an' lettin' 'em go?"

"Shore; that northwest section is so rough an' full of brush that it's near impossible to get 'em out. There must be an awful lot of unmarked animals over there. We're goin' to have our hands full with 'em."

"Aimin' to tackle it this fall?" asked Johnny, carelessly.

"Mebby; mebby not. McCullough will save us from goin' up th' trail this year, so we might run a special combin' up out there."

"I'm runnin' one right here!" exclaimed Dailey, banging his fist on the table. "I'll run a brand on you fellers that'll smart so you can't sleep. Come on, let's get a-goin'. Hot iron! Hot iron! Ropers up!"

"I'll just take a bite out of you," said Fraser. "Anybody else hungry?"

"I just ain't never had enough to eat," chuckled Fanning, dragging up a chair, "not since I was a growin' kid—an' I ain't nowise shore that I had enough then."

"Which I says is frank, comin' from th' keeper of a hotel," laughed Gurley. "I've often felt th' same way when I ate in town. Turn it loose. I'm on."

"Let me see," pondered Dailey, "we deals five cards, don't we?"

"We do; but only one at a time," replied Fanning patiently. "Don't turn no trump."

"It's sorta comin' back to me," smiled Dailey, spreading out the cards to be cut to see who dealt "It's sorta comin' back," he repeated.

"Then I'm sayin' it's due to be laig weary, for it's goin' to have a long journey," remarked Dave. He looked up. "Cuss it! Here's th' Doc! Hello, stranger! Shore, this is Gunsight. Hey, Dailey! he's got a whole satchel full; ring him into th' game."

"Bet he's got a wad of wool soaked with that there chloryfoam. Somebody ride herd on him," laughed Fraser, but he was tense. It was the first time anyone had seen the Doc and Johnny together since the kidnapping had been explained, and anything was possible.

"I'm not collecting buttons," retorted the Doc, smiling. "Hello, boys! Hello, Dave! Say, Fraser, I wish you would tell Big Tom not to send in the wagon for me; I've changed my mind. I got a hurt leg, and it won't be right for nearly a week. Set out a round on me, Dave; I'll drink mine and hurry along. I just rode up to get word to Tom. Dave, you should use something milder when you load this whiskey—ever try nitric?"

"Don't you do it, Dave!" expostulated Dailey in alarm. "I can't hardly taste it now."

The Doc looked at him, shook his head sadly, said good night, and went out.

"He didn't act like his laig was hurt," remarked Fraser wonderingly. "But you can't never tell nothin' about him; he's a queer bird. An' changeable? There ain't no cussed word for it."

"I've often wondered how he made a livin'," said Johnny curiously.

"Well, I'll be cussed!" snorted Dailey incredulously. "You have been here all this time an' don't know that? Huh! Th' Doc is a sort of self-actin' remittance man. He's got a wad banked back East, an' once a month I cash a check for him."

"Two pairs," muttered Fanning, scratching his head, and telling the truth to mislead his opponents. "That was what I was askin' about. Well, I'll see it an' add a blue."

"Any time you raise a blue, you got two pairs, all right!" snorted Dailey. "Two pairs, deuces up!" He held up a finger warningly. "I hears hosses' feets," he chuckled. "Move over, Gurley, an' give th' visitors a chance to edge in."

The sounds grew louder and soon stopped outside, and a laughing voice said, "There's Dailey, th' hoss thief, tryin' to learn th' game. He's a persistent dummy, for he's allus tryin'."

"He don't know one card from another," laughed a second voice.

"Hey!" shouted Dailey. "Come in here, you fellers, an' I'll show you how much I know!"

Slim appeared, followed closely by Larry and Arch.

"They ought to make you roll up yore sleeves, you mosshead," said Larry, grinning.

"Sit down there!" ordered Dailey, "an' I'll have you rollin' up th' bottoms of yore pockets!"

"Wimmin' an children first," quoth Fanning. "Come on, Larry."

"Did you hear that?" snorted Larry, staring at him. "I shore will, now!"

"This is goin' to be pay-day for me," said Dailey in great content. "Where th' devil are we at, anyhow?"

Over at the bar Johnny and Slim were carrying on a low-voiced conversation and figuring on a piece of paper, while Arch and Dave entertained each other at the other end of the counter. After a few minutes Johnny nodded his head in quiet satisfaction, put the paper in his pocket and, going up for a few words with Arch and Dave, wandered over to the table and sat down close to it, leaning back to enjoy the fight. He always found keen enjoyment in watching the storekeeper play, for Dailey's red-brown face was suffused with wrinkles of good nature, quite independent of how his fortune tended; his high, shining forehead and the bald spot above and behind it reflected the light and glistened. The eternal cigar he chewed on, cold, stale, and odorous, bobbed animatedly and his shrewd black eyes peered out from under bushy eyebrows, glittering, glinting, and alive with his emotions, like twin mirrors on which were reflected the subtle complexities of a nature enriched by a life crowded with experiences. He had no poker face, but knowing the sad fact, he had made an adept liar out of the one to which Nature had given so much expression.

He glanced at Johnny, his eyes dancing. "Yo're comin' nearer th' candle all th' time, little moth," he laughed. "I'll singe them wings of yourn—you see! My flush takes this game. Deal 'em up, Dailey," he grunted, raking in chips and cards.

"Come on, Nelson," said Fanning. "Better get in this. Th' old hoss thief is stackin' 'em up for you."

"Huh!" Johnny remarked. "It ain't as big a pile as I was hopin'. Oh, well," he sighed, "I'm like th' SV round-up: I take 'em as they come."

"How'd they come to start that so early?" asked Fanning. "It's plumb warm for workin' hard."

"Wanted to know how many head they had," answered Johnny. "An' what do you know about workin' hard?"

"He's seen me lots of times," cut in Dailey. "Did they find out?"

"Shore. They've got twelve hundred an' twenty, which would be fourteen hundred an' fifty-five, if Arnold hadn't sold two hundred an' thirty-five head."

"That's good, considerin' how things has been let slide over there," remarked Fraser.

"Th' old figgers of three years ago," said Johnny, "when Arnold took possession, were sixteen hundred an' eighty-five, in th' fall. Now, lemme see—do I need two or three?" he mused. "Reckon there ain't no use of throwin' away a nice, high card, so I'll take two. I'm plumb fond of holdin' up a sider." He glanced at the two cards, slipped them into his hand and looked around. "Now, I was askin' th' Double X what factor they used to figger natural increase—an' they says one to five. That right?"

"That's allus been sort of gospel down here," said Fanning. "For th' Lord's sake!" he snorted, in playful pretense. "You takin' eight cards again?"

"You ain't got no right to ask nobody but th' dealer how many cards he takes," retorted Dailey. "As a matter of fact, I only took seven. I'm h—l-bent to get me a pair."

"You are dealing," declared Gurley. "How many did you take?"

"Three jacks," answered Dailey. "If I only had th' other three mebby I'd have a pair."

"Which same I calls enlightenin' an' 'lucidatin'," muttered Gurley. "I demands a count of th' deck. But, speakin' of factors, I'd say one to nine was nearer right, over on th' SV."

"Let him count th' deck," growled Fanning, "before he gets worse. One to nine! I'm sayin' one to five is close whittlin' down on this range. It'll come right eight out of ten. Well! well!" he chuckled, as he looked at his card. "Welcome, welcome, little stranger; how I wondered what you was! But I'm not pressin' my luck too hard. I sees, an' trails."

"I'm passin'," sighed Johnny. "Now I says that th' natural increase of them sixteen hundred an' eighty-five cows th' next year would be three hundred an' thirty-nine, usin' that gospel factor. Th' herd would finish th' second year with two thousand an' twenty-four. Usin' that gospel factor again, it would increase four hundred an' five, an' finish th' third year with twenty-four hundred an' twenty-nine. This is the summer of that third year, an' that twenty-four hundred an' twenty-nine ain't there. There's only twelve hundred an' twenty, which added to them that Arnold sold, makes fourteen hundred an' fifty-five. Now I figgers that fourteen hundred an' fifty-five from twenty-four hundred an' twenty-nine leaves nine hundred an' seventy-four head. That's what is missin'—nine hundred an' seventy-four head. Call it nine hundred seventy. Cimarron O.K.'s th' last tally figgers. Everybody but th' Bar H allows one to five is right. Where did them cattle go to?"

"I call," growled Gurley. "Kings up!"

"You can't never trust assassins," chuckled Dailey, laying down three tens.

"An' three tens ain't no good tonight," said Fanning, revealing an eight-full. "Two pair ain't no good to bet on hard, but they're plumb fine to draw to. What you got, Fraser?" he demanded.

"A headache," grunted Fraser, throwing down his hand.

"Deal 'em up, Fanning," said Dailey. "Where did they go to?" he asked Johnny.

"I've gone over everythin' I can think of," replied Johnny, leaning back. "I've figgered hard winters, wolves, fever—there wasn't none of them. Strayed off? Where to? Would they leave Clear River for an arid stretch forty miles wide—an' stay away? They have to drink, don't they? Quicksands? Those that wandered in wouldn't be many, an' them that was drove in we'll count part of that nine seventy. Where did they go?"

"Mebby they heard them angel voices callin'," said Fanning, grinning.

"I'm sayin' somethin' is plumb wrong down here," replied Johnny. "Somebody has been ridin' th' line careless, an' a lot of mavericks has got across. Fraser, how many riders has Big Tom kept on his northwest lines?"

Fraser looked serious and pretended to ponder deeply. "Only one—Wolf. An' he was allus payin' more attention to th' west line, facin' th' Snake Buttes country than he was to th' north line, though. All he could think of was rustlers. Cussed if he didn't near sleep with 'em, he had 'em in his mind so strong." He did not see Slim's sneering smile or the look he exchanged with Arch. Slim was beginning to regard that outfit very much in that light.

"That's what I thought," replied Johnny, triumphantly. "He wasn't ridin' sign at all—he was only lookin' for rustlers. An' while he was prancin' along that west line lookin' for Nevada, them mavericks was driftin' off th' SV to get in that brush where th' flies wouldn't bother 'em so much. That accounts for a lot of them unmarked cows you was speakin' about."

"Does look like mebby there's somethin' in that," cogitated Fraser. "As I said, we never paid much attention to th' cattle out there; but it don't sound reasonable that all them SV mavericks would drift over onto us. An' why only mavericks?" He thought for a moment. "I'm sayin' nothin', but there's somethin' plumb wrong, somewhere. Want me to ask Big Tom about it? Mebby it was rustlers—they're plumb active."

Johnny considered. "Well, you might," he said, slowly, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "Tell you what, Fraser; I'm dead shore about them nine hundred seventy. Suppose you tell him to brand that many mavericks, takin' 'em as they come, with th' SV mark, an' throw 'em over to Arnold when he holds his fall round-up? Th' SV will provide stampin' irons, an' a couple of men to help. As to rustlers, they'd have to drive across th' Bar H an' th' Double X to get to Arnold's ranch—any rustlin' that was done would be done on th' fringes of th' Double X. Why, you fellers ain't never been raided; an' to get to th' SV would be worse than gettin' to th' Bar H. That's what we'll do; we'll have him throw over nine hundred an' seventy head this fall, an' that'll make things right."

Fraser boiled inwardly, but controlled himself. There had been no accusation, nothing to call for defense, and to take it angrily or as an accusation he felt would be to play into Johnny's hands. Being guilty of the very thing which the other had gone so carefully around, made him find the hidden meaning in the heavy circumlocution, and keep quiet about it for fear of revealing the real meaning of the words to the others in the room. He knew how Big Tom would take it, for he knew that his foreman was smouldering like a volcano, charged with the cumulative anger caused by recent events; and he felt sure that the news he would take back to the ranch that night would cause an eruption, and a great one. This was another reason for remaining calm: not knowing what Big Tom might decide to do, it would be well to give Johnny no cause to exercise any unusual caution, or to strike hard and suddenly. So he growled a little as he resumed the play.

"That's shore a whole lot of cattle to throw over to anybody, free, but, h—l!" he said, "it ain't no funeral of mine. It's Big Tom's business, 'though I reckon it'll sort of take his breath. Did Arnold say that?"

"He's sayin' it through me," answered Johnny quietly. "I'm workin' for him, an' actin' for him, an' I'm usin' my own judgment."

Slim lounged into an easier position against the bar and grunted. "Well," he drawled, "we're comin' to th' conclusion that th' round-ups down here has got to be general, spring an' fall. This here maverick business allus is a bad proposition, an' it's worse in th' kind of country that's plentiful on parts of this range. Sherwood is standin' out, set for a general drive. He says for all th' ranches to join hands, sweep th' whole range, do our brandin' an' divide up an' brand th' mavericks accordin' to some fair plan. I suggests dividin' 'em in proportion to th' number of cattle on each ranch, but that's only my idea. He goes even further, an' says that th' runnin' iron an' this brush brandin' we all have been doin' down here has got to be done away with, on th' Double X an' every other ranch in this section. Anybody knows that chutin' 'em, an' stampin' on th' brand is easier, an' that there ain't no honest reason for th' straight iron no more. Texas threw it into th' discard ten years ago or more. We're discardin' it, an' we're goin' to raise th' devil with any outfit that don't foller suit. That's flat, an' goes as it lays, regardless, to th' SV, th' Triangle, an' th' Bar H, with Sherwood's compliments."

"What about that nine hundred an' seventy, then?" asked Gurley.

"We've got nothin' to say about them, but if they are throwed over, th' rest will be divided," answered Slim. "Bein' th' biggest ranch out here, we stand to lose more than any other by throwin' over them cows to th' SV; but we admits its title to 'em. Tell Big Tom to think it over, an' see us about it before fall."

"One to five is figgerin' too strong," remarked Gurley, thoughtfully. "One to nine is nearer th' real figgers."

"There ain't no reason that I can see to change figgers that have proved themselves, time an' time again, down here," replied Slim.

"Havin' been talked plumb weak," growled Dailey, "suppose we rest ourselves with a nice, quiet game? It's yore deal, Fraser. Comin' in, Slim?"

"No, I ain't; I'm goin' out," answered Slim. "I got more than twenty miles an' I'm tired. Comin', you fellers?" he asked Larry and Arch.

"Shore," said Larry, arising. "Glad to escape. Better come along, Arch—what's a few more miles?"

"I'd like to," replied Arch. "Cuss it, I will! I can go to town th' next day. Good night, fellers."

They made a noisy exit and soon their banter and laughter grew silent down the trail. Fraser stretched, and yawned prodigiously, and his friend Gurley became restless.

Dailey, sensing the break-up of his beloved pastime, made an effort to save it. "Don't bust up th' game, boys," he begged. "I got a feelin' comin' over me that I can clean up th' whole pack of you. Let's see if I'm right."

"Try it on th' rest of th' boys," growled Fraser. "I'm cashin' in what's left, an' dustin' up th' trail for my little bunk. Comin', Gurley?"

"As far as th' partin' of th' ways," smiled the Triangle puncher, "unless you aim's to ride home by way of our house, so I won't be lonesome. It's only a few miles out of yore way."

"I'm likely to," retorted Fraser. "So-long, fellers," and he preceded his friend to the horse rail.

The remaining four smoked and talked for a little while and then Johnny arose. "Put them supplies in th' shed, Dailey?" he asked.

"Shore; in a strong sack, like you said," replied the storekeeper. "I put in a few more cans of tomatoes, seein' as they're handy when there ain't no drinkin' water near."

"Yo're usin' yore head," commended Johnny, and turned to Dave. "I'm goin' to th SV to let Cimarron's boys know that there's trouble comin', shore. You don't know when I'll be back or where I'm goin'; but I reckon mebby th' whole town will hear me, when I do come back. Somethin's goin' to bust loose tomorrow. I ain't no blind fool. Good night."