Chapter XX: Up Horse-Thief Canyon

A common cause will bring strange people together, but a common hatred will make them like brothers. The Bassetts suspected Grimes of fishing for sheep-rights, and he _knew_ they had run out on him in his fight; and a month before Meshackatee had been a gunman, engaged in fighting all three of them; but a common desire to get revenge on the Scarboroughs made them partners, if not exactly friends. And McIvor, who would have quit all four of them in a minute if there was any other way of winning Allifair, plunged heart and soul into the council of war which was to plan the downfall of Isham. For it was Isham after all who was the head and front of the Scarboroughs, and he had a genius for making men hate him.

"I'm for riding up to his house," declared Grimes, swaying truculently, "and shooting it out, right there. We could slip up on 'em after dark."

"Nope, that house is a fort," vetoed Meshackatee instantly; "he could pot the whole bunch of us through them loop-holes. And that passel of hounds would raise such a hooraw you couldn't git nigh the place."

"And besides," interposed McIvor, "there are the women folks to think of----"

"They didn't think of ours!" broke in Bill resentfully. "And for all we know, Maw's dead. They went up to the store and told Johnson they'd kill him if he sold the old lady anything."

"Well, let's begin right there," suggested McIvor pacifically. "Let's go down to that store and hold up the store-keeper and take Mrs. Bassett some supplies. I'm ready to start right now."

"Nope, not to-night," objected Meshackatee cannily, "they're liable to be out somewhere looking for us."

"Well, I'll tell you," suggested Winchester, "let's go after them two horse-thieves that Bill and I were chasing. They headed right up that side canyon."

"That's the talk!" agreed Grimes, springing eagerly to his feet. "Them's the boys we want to git. D'ye think you can follow their trail?"

"They's a cabin up there," explained Winchester, "kind of a hold-out for horse-thieves, I reckon. The chances are good they'll come back to it."

"Well, let's wait till before daylight," suggested the practical Meshackatee, "and ketch 'em jest at dawn."

"It's a dirty damned way of fighting," grumbled Winchester morosely, "but I'm game--they pulled it on me."

So they slept until the morning star, glowing round like a ball, gave warning that daylight was near; and then, with Winchester ahead, they forded the roaring creek and followed a beaten trail up the canyon. No one or two horses had trampled that broad path--a band had been over it, and more than one band, and they could see the Texans' tracks leading on. At dawn they sighted a house, a small, chunky cabin built from the biggest logs that could be moved; and chock against it was a corral where two jaded ponies stood drooping inside the bars. It stood in a little opening, tucked up under the north hill, and they withdrew to lay their plans.

"We'll surround it," directed Meshackatee, "two men on each side and one here to guard the horses; and the first man that comes out you can all pull down on him--and if he don't halt when I order you can shoot. But if he gits inside that cabin it'll be a long siege at best, because she's mighty nigh bullet-proof."

They separated then, Grimes and Winchester going up one ridge and Meshackatee and Hall up the other; and as the sun began to shine on the bald slopes to the west they settled down to watch the house. It had been built all too evidently for purposes of defense, though no loop-holes appeared in the walls; but no windows appeared either and the door was of heavy oak slabs. The Texans were safe as long as they remained inside of it, and they seemed in no hurry to come out. A shrewd suspicion was beginning to form in Hall's mind that in some way their presence had been discovered, but they waited patiently until the sun was an hour high and then a tall cowboy stumbled out. He was a typical Texan, all boots and high hat, and he headed for the woodpile without so much as a glance at the sinister hillsides above him.

"Put 'em up!" bellowed Meshackatee as the Texan reached for the ax, but instead the man started to run. He did not even look up, simply bolted for the doorway like a rabbit caught away from his hole. But the posse had been watching, and as he started for the door their rifles all spoke at once. The pile of chips at his feet seemed to leap into the air as the bullets struck all around him, but he escaped by some miracle and slammed the door behind him, at which Meshackatee ripped out a great oath.

"Come out of that cabin!" he roared from his hiding-place, "come out, or we'll blow you to hell!"

But the men inside the cabin were punching loop-holes through the chinks and Meshackatee opened fire. The work on the loop-holes was given over precipitately, for the heavy bullets bored their way through the chinks, and when a couple of explosive bullets almost blew down the door the Texans were ready for a parley.

"Who air you fellers, anyway?" they shouted through the doorway. "We're all right--we ain't done nothin'!"

"We're a posse of deputy sheriffs and you're wanted for horse-stealing. Come out!" thundered Meshackatee, "or we'll kill ye!"

"You'll kill us anyway!" answered one of the men, and they went to work on their loop-holes.

"I'll fix 'em," announced Meshackatee, and, slipping in another explosive bullet, he fired it through the hole in the door. There was a smash inside and a loud yell of protest and then, very reluctantly, the shattered door was thrown open and the Texans stepped out with hands up.

"Come up here!" ordered Meshackatee, over the top of a rock. "Is there anybody else in there?"

"Nope, the other boys are gone," answered the trembling prisoners, who were both barely out of their teens, and Hall quickly searched them for concealed guns.

"All right," he said, "you can put down your hands. Come on, we'll go back to camp."

They returned to the horses, where Bill had a fire going and a pot of coffee on the coals, and Grimes and Winchester joined them.

"You sure ruined that cabin," observed Winchester to Meshackatee, but Grimes strode over to the prisoners.

"Oho!" he said, "so you're the young bucks that have been raising all this deviltry. Well, we'll just make you an example for the rest of 'em to look at when they come over to steal our stock."

He made the grewsome motions of tightening a loop about his neck and the Texans turned deathly pale.

"I thought you were deputies," said one of them at length, but no one responded directly. With two prisoners on their hands they would be handicapped at every turn, and the question before them was whether to let Grimes hang them or allow them to go scot free.

"Well, what you got to say for yourselves?" asked Meshackatee at length, after they had eaten a scanty breakfast. "Where'd you git that band of horses you had yesterday?"

The younger of the boys was by now too scared to talk, but the older one spoke up boldly.

"We were coming in from Holbrook," he said, "and some men that we met said they'd give us ten dollars to drive these broncs down into the Basin."

"Come from Texas?" inquired Meshackatee. "Well, couldn't you see by them brands that half those horses was stolen? I know you could now, son; so don't make us hang you for a liar."

"You're a liar yourself!" flashed back the boy indignantly. "Didn't you claim you was a deputy sheriff!"

"Take the witness," shrugged Meshackatee, rolling his eyes at Winchester. "He's too danged smart for me."

"Lookee here, kid," began Winchester with a placating smile, "you'd better come through with the truth. Who're you working for--Isham Scarborough?"

"Don't know him," denied the boy. "We were jest rambling through the country when we met up with them fellers with the horses. Say, are you deputy sheriffs? Well then, you don't _dare_ to hang me! Don't I git a trial, or nothing?"

"You're gitting a trial, right now," returned Winchester. "And if you git too gay we'll jest take off these tin stars and _show_ you whether or not we can hang you. You're a tough little devil, I can see that with one eye; but--oh, hell, let the little whelp go!"

He laughed shortly and turned away, pretending to adjust his pistol, and McIvor nodded at Meshackatee.

"We're not fighting boys," he said, but Grimes took the opposite view.

"Now, gentlemen," he objected, rising up from where he sat, "I think you're wrong--dead wrong. These boys may be young but they knew what they were doing; and this stealing has got to stop, that's all! I'll jest take off this star, so they won't be no complications, and--you can turn them over to me."

"No, don't you do it, Mister!" cried the boy in a panic, running to cling to Meshackatee's knees, "I--I'll never steal another horse again. And this other boy, he's only a kid--we ran away from home together."

"Oh, I see," mumbled Meshackatee, and glanced questioningly at Grimes who stood with his lips grimly pursed.

"Well?" he demanded, but Meshackatee shook his head.

"Nope," he said, "they's too small, Mr. Grimes. And I ran away from home myself."

"Then I resign," snarled Grimes, beginning to unpin his star and Meshackatee held out his hand.

"Gimme the star, then," he replied, "you're too rough-shod for us. We didn't come out here to hang any kids--we came to git Isham Scarborough."

Grimes paused and rolled his evil eyes on the boys, then snapped his badge back in place.

"I'll stick," he said. "You're chicken-hearted, but I'll stick. But if these kids turn up later with a gang of their confederates, don't say I didn't warn ye!"

"Very well, Mr. Grimes," returned Meshackatee politely, "and being as you're so brave we'll jest head back for the Basin and put you up against some grown _men_."