Tank weighed like a beef when he got liquor-loose, and it was all me and Spider could do to get him to bed. His legs were like rubber; but he insisted on tellin’ us what he thought about things. He begged us to start back and let him ride, sayin’ that it was only the heat o’ the room, not the drink, which had upset him; but he was in no shape to ride a hay wagon, so we put him to bed.

“I think more o’ the Friar than of airy other man I know,” he sez to us at the head o’ the stairs; “but I own up ’at I don’t take kindly to religion; and I’ll tell ya why. The’s hundreds an’ dozens of hymns to the doggone sheep-herders; but the’ ain’t one single one to the cow-punchers. Now, what I sez is this, if ya want to round me up in a religion, you got to find one ’at has hymns to cattle men.”

We didn’t bother to explain it to him, ’cause he wasn’t in condition to know a parable from a pair o’ boots. We dragged him along the hall and flung him on his bed. By chance we put him on the bed with his boots on the piller; but he went sound asleep the moment he stretched out; so we just hung his hat on his toe, folded the blanket over him, locked the door, put the key in my pocket, and went across the hall to our own room.

I didn’t want to harbor that liquor any longer ’n I had to, so me an’ Spider slipped down, got some salt an’ mustard, soaked it in water, drenched ourselves—and repented of havin’ been such fools. Then we went up to bed. It had been some time since we had stretched out on springs, and we were cordial for sleep; so we mingled with it in short order.

Still, I wasn’t easy in my mind, and twice I woke up and went into the hall; but I couldn’t hear anything, though I had a feelin’ that the’d been some good cause for my wakin’ up. I lay on the bed the last time with my mind made up to watch. Skelty’s had allus had the name o’ bein’ a tough joint, and this red-eyed Maxwell with his Injun hair wasn’t of the kind to purify it to such an extent that the old customers wouldn’t feel at home.

As I lay there, I saw the window rise, slow and careful. The’ wasn’t any moon; but I could see a hand in the starlight. I made up my mind to sneak out o’ bed, grab the hand, pull it in to the shoulder, and then throw all my weight on it, and yell for Spider. I got up as noiseless as cider turnin’ into vinegar—and then upset a confounded chair, which sounded like two houses runnin’ together.

The window dropped with a bang; and at the same moment the’ came a shriek from across the hall, followed by some scufflin’ and the sound o’ broken glass. After this all we heard was Tank’s voice tryin’ to explain his opinion o’ that part o’ the country and all its inhabitants. I had thought that Tank had discarded most of his profanity; but by the time we had got our guns and crossed the hall to him, I changed my mind. When I put the key in the lock, he suggested to us what was likely to happen to any unfriendly individuals who attempted to enter that particular room.

I told him gently to stuff the piller into his mouth, if he couldn’t find any other way to stop his yappin’; and then I unlocked the door, just as Maxwell and his bartender came into the hall. The bartender had one gun and one candle, and Maxwell had two guns.

When we opened the door, there was Tank with the blood runnin’ down his leg, while he stood in a corner of the room holdin’ his weapon up above his shoulder. “What’s the matter with you?” I sez, a little cross.

“I’m homesick, you blame ijiot!” sez Tank. “What else would likely be the matter with me?” Tank was about as far out o’ humor as I ever saw him get.

Maxwell came in and looked at the pool of blood. “Don’t stand there and bleed on the floor,” sez he.

Tank looked at him baleful. “What do ya wish me to do—upset your rotten dive and bleed on the ceilin’?” sez he. “I didn’t come here determined to smear up your place with my life blood; and I want ya to understand that I didn’t punch this hole in myself simply to cool off. I know what you’re afraid of—You’re scared that some o’ your liquor has got into my blood, an’ that it’ll leak out and set your floor on fire.”

“You run get a bucket for him to bleed into,” sez Maxwell to the bartender.

“Yes,” sez Tank, sarcastic; “and be sure to get a big one, as I am minded to draw off all o’ my blood, just to see how much I have in me at this time o’ the year.”

Sayin’ which, Tank walked over an’ sittin’ on the bed, held out his boot for me to pull off. He had been stabbed through the leg, through the thick part o’ the calf, and a jet was spoutin’ out of the top cut, and a steady stream oozin’ from the bottom one. I put my finger knuckle above the top jet, and the palm of my other hand over the lower one, and then sent Maxwell after a small rope and some bandages.

While he was gone, a couple o’ the girls strolled down the hall to see what the excitement was; but Tank began to lecture about morals and manners, and they didn’t bother us long. We patched Tank up in good order, and made him lie down again. He said that he had been woke up when his leg got stabbed, and had grappled with a man; but the man had got out the window again.

Skelty had built his place on a side hill. The bar and dinin’ hall was in front, and a small dance hall and kitchen back of it. Upstairs were bedrooms, and the ground sloped so, that the back rooms were only about five feet from the ground. This made the downstairs easier to heat in winter—and it was also convenient for any one who wanted to get in through a window.

Me and Spider ate breakfast next mornin’; but we wouldn’t let Tank eat, rememberin’ the Friar’s rules for wounds. When we started away, Tank insisted on goin’ along; so we had to ride slow. We went north, instead of in the direction we wanted to go, for fear some one might be spyin’ on us. I was mighty sorry we had come, even though I had found out that Promotheus was under suspicion; and as soon as we had come to a pass where we could see a good distance in all directions, I sent Spider on a circle to tell the boys to bring things to a head as soon as possible.

Tank’s leg ached him consid’able; and we had to ride purty slow; but by noon we had come to the Simpsons’ cabin. We told ’em that Ty Jones was suspicious about the Greasers and intended to get square with all who had took a hand in removin’ ’em; so they agreed to stand with us whenever we were ready to make a raid on Ty.

I made Tank lie down all afternoon, and drink all the water he could swallow, but that night when I started to ride over to the look-out, he insisted on goin’ along. It was a hard ride, and I wanted him to wait until the next night, but he tagged along, so I had to ride slow. We had figured out that the feller who had tried to get him had seen the hat on his foot at the head o’ the bed; and before he had had time to locate him proper, the noise the other one had made slammin’ the window to my room had scared him, so he had taken his stab haphazard.

This must ’a’ been the way, ’cause when drinkin’, Tank was usually a regular long range snorer, and only a hurried man would have mistaken his feet for his head. Tank insisted that he had seen the feller’s outline again’ the window, and that it had been Dixon. I doubted this; but Tank insisted that the feller had had a neck like a beer bottle, and then I had to give in.

We didn’t reach camp until sun-up, and then we found ’at Promotheus had been there the night before, with word that he had had a long talk with the woman, who had been in the most rational mood he had ever seen her in. He had drawn her into tellin’ him all she could remember. She had told him about havin’ her head full o’ pictures; but not bein’ able to tell the real ones from those she had dreamed. She said she had lost the key to them and could not understand ’em, that she remembered havin’ sung on many different platforms, but could not tell where or when, and could not sing any more, though she sometimes tried. She said that whenever he said the name Carmichael, she saw the picture of a young man in white robes, but that he had died. When Promotheus had tried to make her understand that he was still alive, she had become frightened, and told him never to speak the name again.

He asked her about the Winter Garden in Berlin, and she said ’at this called up the picture of a man with curled-up mustaches, and then she had covered her eyes, and told him he must not mention this again, either. Horace was tellin’ me all this; and when he finished, I sez: “Well, if this is the most rational she has ever got, she’d be a nice one to handle in her usual condition. I don’t see what we’re to do; but we have to move fast, as Ty Jones is suspicious.”

The next night the Friar and I were down at the head of the path leadin’ into the ravine when Promotheus came. He said that Dixon had come in with his face cut, and had told about seein’ us over at Skelty’s, and how we had bragged about gettin’ him rail-roaded, and Dixon and the others had told him they were ready to back him up any time he wanted to go an’ get even. He also said ’at Ty had been roastin’ the whole gang of ’em for bein’ afraid of Olaf, and advised us to warn Olaf to be on guard. He said the woman had told him that day that at all times she had a dull pain in the top part of her head. The was beginnin’ to get worried, this was plain to see, and he didn’t stay very long.

When we told the others what he had said, we decided it was our duty to go and tell Olaf that very night, so that he could send over the next day and get a couple o’ the Simpson boys to come over and help watch his place at night, until we were ready to finish with Ty. We wanted to put it off as long as possible, as Ty would soon be in the fall round-up and there wouldn’t be so many men at the home place.

Mexican Slim and Tillte Dutch started to ride to Olaf’s; but I was restless that night, so I rode along with ’em. Just before we reached the Spread, we saw a bright light at the side o’ the cabin. In a minute two other lights shot up, and we knew they were firin’ brush at the side of it. We threw in the spurs and rode, keepin’ close watch. Two men rode towards us, and we drew off to the side of the road. Just as they got opposite, we ordered ’em to halt; but they whirled and fired at us. We fired back, and started after ’em; but it was dark in the cottonwoods, and they gave us the slip and got away.

When we reached the cabin, we saw it was doomed. Piles o’ brush had been heaped on all sides of it and fired one after the other. Everything was so dry that even the dirt on the roof would have burned, and there was nothing to do. Kit with the boy in her arms, and Olaf and Oscar beside her were standin’ close by, watchin’ it burn, and they felt mighty bitter. We told ’em why we had come, and advised ’em to go and leave Kit with the Simpsons, and come to our camp the next night. Then we rode back before daylight and told the others what had happened. We were all purty hosstile. Settin’ fire to a cabin with a sleepin’ woman inside wasn’t no fair way o’ fightin’.

That afternoon as we were watchin’ the ranch through the field glasses, we saw the woman and Promotheus walkin’ together toward a little open space in the cottonwoods where the’ was some grass close to the edge o’ the crick. Thick bushes was all about this place, and it was cool and pleasant in the heat o’ the day. They hadn’t been gone very long when we saw two others sneakin’ after them. I looked through the glasses, and one appeared to be the skinny feller, Dixon, and the other, the Chinese cook. We saw ’em sneak into the bushes and disappear close to where the woman and Promotheus were sittin’. Part o’ the time they talked together, and part of the time she read to him out of a book.

We fair ached to yell to ’em and put ’em on their guard; but all we could do was to sit up above in our look-out, feelin’ weak and useless. I suppose we felt like a mother bird when she sees some inhuman human foolin’ about her nest.

After a time the Chink crept out and scurried along to the old house. He bounced across the porch, all crouched over, and we knew he had some evil tale to cheer up his yellow soul with. In half a minute, Ty came out with him and follered him into the clump o’ bushes. We could see the woman and Promotheus plain, with our naked eyes. It was a good thing, too; for Horace hung on to his glasses as though they were life preservers.

In about ten minutes, the bushes parted, and Ty stepped into the open space in front of ’em. Promotheus got to his feet slow, but the woman sat still, and didn’t seem much interested.

Ty glared at Promotheus durin’ the few minutes he was questionin’ him, and then they all went back towards the ranch house. The woman went on to her own cabin, and Ty blew on the horn which hung at the side of the door, and that sneak of a Dixon came on the run, as though he had no idee what was wanted. Actin’ under orders from Ty, he took The’s gun and then tied his hands behind him and shut him up in an out buildin’ near the stables. There didn’t appear to be any one else about the ranch, and I suggested that we make a rush and take possession right then.

While we were debatin’ it, we saw the punchers comin’ in from the east, across the crick. There were about a dozen of ’em, strung out and ridin’ hard the way they generally rode.

“They’re likely to string him up this very night,” sez I; “and we’ll have to settle this business before sun-up.”

“They are not likely to be in any hurry,” sez the Friar. “If we go to-night it will mean a lot o’ bloodshed. To-morrow they will go out on the range again, and we stand a good chance of rescuing him without even a fight.”

Olaf, of course, sided with the Friar, Horace sided with me, and we had a purty heated discussion. The Friar argued that he had the most at stake and had a right to select the plan with the least risk. I argued that Promotheus had the most at stake, and we had no right to take risk into account. We got purty excited, I usin’ the word coward freely, while the Friar stuck to the word folly and kept cooler ’n I did. He finally won ’em over to a compromise. We were to go down close and keep watch durin’ the night; but not to make a rush until we saw Promotheus actually in instant danger.