Chapter X: Bud Finds a Note

Billee Dobb approached deliberately and gazed long and earnestly into the face of the recumbent man.

"So that's Delton, is it?" he said. "He sure took a funny way to come back. Wonder if he's--" the rancher stooped swiftly and laid his hand on the breast of the man. "Nope! Still living. We'd better get him to the house soon as possible. Grab hold there, Bud."

Lifting him as gently as they could, so they might not cause the blood to flow more strongly, they carried the injured man toward the ranch house. They laid him on the couch in the living-room, which was known as the "parlor," and generally reserved for funerals.

"I'll get some water and bandages--if I can find any," said Bud when he had disposed of his burden.

"That white shirt of the Kid's will do," Billee suggested as Bud made for the door. "He's got it rolled up in his saddle pack."

The man on the couch seemed to be breathing more strongly now. The blood from the cut had partly clotted, and the flow was greatly diminished. But a glance at his face showed that he was in a very weak condition.

"Must have been lyin' out there quite a spell," Billee commented, as Bud returned with the shirt and a basin of water. The news of the unconscious visitor had traveled fast, for Dick, Nort and the Kid followed Bud into the room.

"Who is he?" asked the Kid as he bent over. "Little feller, ain't he?"

"Recognize him, Dick?" Bud said, kneeling down by the man's side and dipping one end of the shirt in his basin.

"No, can't say that I--yes I do, too! It's the fellow that was here when we came--the one who offered us the thousand! It's 'J. D.'!"

"Right. We found him lying over by a shack, dead to the world. Billee and I carried him in here. Seems to have a nasty cut, but I don't believe it's dangerous. Way he talked to me here awhile ago, he's too ornery to die."

"Must have been caught in the big wind," Nort said. "Hit by a board, probably."

"So that's Delton, hey?" Yellin' Kid drawled. "Well, mister, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. You don't look pertikerly dangerous to me. But you can't tell about these quiet ones. Liable to fly up any minute. Don't wash that blood off, Bud! Leave it lay. Have him bleedin' again if you don't watch out. Nort, mosey out an' see if that dumb Mex has got the coffee ready. Bring in some, will you? Leave the 'Canned cow' out of it. When this boy wakes up he wants something strong."

The man's eyes opened for a minute, then closed again. The dusk outside was settling rapidly now, and the room was growing darker. Dick ran to the kitchen and returned with a lighted candle, which he held close to the head of the recumbent figure. By this time their visitor had regained consciousness, and was staring wide-eyed at the group surrounding the couch--three men leaning expectantly over his body, while a fourth held a lighted candle aloft like a weird statue. Little wonder that a man awaking to such surroundings would be somewhat bewildered.

"How do you feel, mister?" Yellin' Kid asked solicitously when he saw that Delton was conscious.

"Not so--good," was the jerky answer. "Stomach--sick--head feels--"

"Swally this," urged Billee holding to his lips the steaming coffee Nort had brought from the kitchen. "Sure it's hot! Don't want cold sody, do ya? 'At's-a-boy--drink 'er down! Better now?"

"Yea," the man answered in a weak voice. "What happened? Woolworth tower fall on me? Wow! What a head! Seems to me I remember takin' a subway train at Times Square--or was that last year? Can't just think straight now----"

"New York," whispered Bud to Dick. "Thought he didn't look like a westerner!"

"Just you lay quiet," advised Yellin' Kid. "Won't do you a bit of good to talk now. Got lots of time to do that. You stay here to-night, an'----"

"I remember now! That storm! I was riding over toward the Shootin' Star ranch, when the sky got black, and that dumb-bell horse of mine started to act up. The next minute I got hit by a ton of bricks."

He was silent a moment, thinking.

"Say--" he suddenly propped himself up on one elbow and glanced around. "I know where I am! Yes. And I know you--and you!" pointing at Bud and Dick. "You're the two galoots that--oh!" he finished weakly, and sank back. He closed his eyes again. It was not evident to the watchers whether he had really fainted, or whether he realized he was talking too much.

At all events it was useless to expect him to say more. At Bud's suggestion he was carried upstairs, and after his heavier clothing had been removed he was laid in one of the beds. He seemed to be resting easily, and if his sleepy attitude was simulated at first, it certainly was not now, as his regular breathing and relaxed condition indicated.

"Better let him sleep," Dick said in a low voice. "He'll be all right when he wakes up. The bleeding from his head has stopped, and if he had anything else the matter he would have told us. I think we'd all better eat. Let's get out of here, anyway--we'll disturb him if we talk much."

"Eat!" exclaimed the Kid when they had all left the room wherein Delton lay. "Let's see now--have I heard that word before, or did I dream it? Believe me, when I sit down to this chow nothin' is goin' to drag me away--fire, wind or flood! Seems like that Mex cook of ours is a hoodoo. Every time we start to eat something happens."

"Guess we'll go through with it all right this time," Dick remarked with a laugh. "Here we are, boys. Set! And go to it! Enough bacon here for an army. Kid, go easy on that bread! You want to choke?"

The five were seated around a table in the rear of the house. In the middle of the table was a huge plate of bacon, and next to this was a mess of beans, steaming hot. Bread, butter, coffee and condensed milk or "Canned cow" completed the repast.

"Wonder where the Mex got all this food?" Nort asked as he reached for the bread. "Real good, anyhow. Guess we'd better keep the Greaser, if he'll stay."

"Keep him 'til we get settled," added Dick. "I don't exactly like his looks. He's too much like the Mex that Joe Hawkins pointed out--the one he said to watch out for--remember?--to suit me."

"Don't be tryin' to find trouble, Dick," advised Bud. "That Mex is just as good as the next one. But it is funny why he should be lingering around here when all the rest lit out. And to have this food all ready for us. Well----"

"Got a few suspicions up your own sleeve, eh?" laughed Dick.

"Boys," Billee said slowly, "I want to tell you something. You remember what your Dad said about smugglin', Bud?"

At the word the men at the table gave a slight start.

"Yes, smugglin'. You'd forgot all about it, hadn't ye? Well, I ain't. While we were in Hawkins's office I noticed a bill-head on his desk. I took it. Here it is."

He passed over the paper to the Kid. The others got up and leaned over the Kid's shoulder, reading it.

"Two thousand dollars' reward," said the Kid haltingly, "for the a-rest and con-viction of--the person whose picture is below, and who is known in New York as Dapper Dan Craven. He is wanted for smuggling Chinese. Escaped custody at----"

He stopped. His eyes sought the picture.

"By the ghost of my aunt Lizzy's cat!" he exclaimed. "If it ain't our friend Delton!"

Bud reached over and slowly took the paper from the Kid's nerveless hand.

"Delton!" he cried, as he saw the picture. "Just as sure as I'm living, that's who it is!"

"But why didn't Hawkins arrest him, then?" Nort asked in a puzzled tone of voice. "He knew where he was. He could have come out any time and put the bracelets on him and he'd have his man."

"Now, boys, if you'll give me a little time, I'll--" started Billee Dobb in a calm voice.

"Go ahead!"

"We're listenin'!"

"Well, in the first place, I don't think Joe Hawkins ever saw this Delton. You know what a hard job we had gettin' to the ranch--I bet if we had had Hawkins with us we would have had to fight our way in. That's what that guard was out for--the one that tried to stop us. He knew we weren't deputies, so he let us go through.

"Also, that bill was just printed and sent to Hawkins. Perhaps he didn't have time to look at it. And say--that accounts for Delton's quick get-away, too. One of his men rode in an' told him that there was a price on him, and he got, fast. He must have made this ranch his headquarters. No wonder he didn't have no sheep around! Boys, we can expect some right excitin' things to happen, in the next few weeks!"

Silence followed Billee's long speech. The veteran rancher had thrown a veritable bombshell into camp. Delton--the man lying asleep upstairs--the head of the smugglers! Two thousand dollars' reward! Why, all they had to do was to tie him up and carry him to town--over to the deputy's house. Capturing the smuggling king the first night at the Shooting Star! It seemed too good to be true.

"There's a catch in it somewhere," commented Dick. "No man with a reward like that on his head is going to dump himself into our hands."

"Why not? It wasn't his fault. He came sneakin' around the place to spy on us and got caught by the cyclone. Then a board or something hit him on the head and he fell where we found him. Nothing strange about that! We got him and got him good! Wow, what can't we do with two thousand dollars!"

"There's one thing we forgot, boys," the Kid broke in.

"And what's that?"

"We're downstairs, an' Delton is upstairs."

"That's soon fixed!" Bud cried, as he sprang for the steps. "Let's go, boys!"

"Take it easy!" cautioned the Kid quickly. "What's the use of scarin' him? We'll just go up there and truss him up while he's asleep. Won't hurt him. That cut on the head was all that ailed him. Now, take your time!"

The ranchers moved quietly toward the room in which they had left Delton. As he reached the door, Bud opened it slowly and peered in. Not a sound. Then he stuck his head in a bit further. Still no action. In the darkness he could see the outline of the bed but faintly.

Softly he turned the covers down. Farther--farther! Then he let out a yell.

"Hey, come here! Quick!"

"What's the trouble?" The Kid called as he entered the room.

"He's gone! He beat it! Look!"

In the bed, molded into the shape of a man, were two pillows. Delton had escaped, leaving the pillows in such a way as to make it appear that he was still in the bed.

"Here's a note!" Bud cried. "He left it on one of the pillows. Let's have that candle, Dick."

By the flickering spluttering light of the candle Bud read aloud:

"Sorry I got to go so sudden, but this bed is too hard. I wouldn't sleep well. If you guys want a little advice, you'll move along out of this section. It ain't healthy. A word to the wise. J. D."