The Desire of the Moth; and the Come On Read online

  Chapter IV

  Navajo, Pima, and Hopi enjoy seven cardinal points--north, east,west, south, up, down, and right here. In these and any intermediatedirections from the Vorhis Ranch the diligent posse comitatus madeswift and jealous search through the slow hours of afternoon. Itcommandeered the V H Saddle horses in the corral; it searched for signin the soft earth of the wandering draws between the dozen low hillsscattered round Big Thumb Butte and Little Thumb Butte; it rodecircles round the ranch; the sign of Christopher Foy's shod horse wasfound and followed hotfoot by a detachment. Eight men had arrived inthe first bunch, with the sheriff; others from every angle joinedby twos and threes from hour to hour till the number rose to abovea score. A hasty election provided a protesting cook and a horsewrangler; a V H beef was slaughtered.

  The posse was rather equally divided between two classes--simpletonsand fools. The first unquestionably believed Foy to be a base andcowardly murderer, out of law, whom it were most righteous to harry;else, as the storied juryman put it, "How came he there?" The otherparty were of those who hold that evildoing may permanently prosperand endure.

  In the big living room of the adobe ranch house much time had beenwasted in cross-questions and foolish answers. Stella Vorhis had beenbanished to her own room and Sheriff Matt Lisner had privately toldoff a man to make sure she did not escape.

  Lisner and Ben Creagan, crossest of the four examiners, had beenprepared to meet by crushing denial an eager and indignant statementfrom Pringle, adducing the Gadsden House affair and his subsequentcompanying with Foy as proof positive of Foy's innocence. That nosuch accusation came from Pringle set these able but mystified deniersentirely at a loss, left the denial high and dry. Creagan mopped hisbrow furtively.

  "Vorhis," said Sheriff Matt, red and angry from an hour's endeavor, "Ithink you're telling a pack of lies--every word of it. You know mightywell where Foy is."

  The Major's gray goatee quivered.

  "Guess I'll tell you lies if I want to," he retorted defiantly.

  "But, Sheriff, he may be telling us the truth," urged Paul Breslin."Foy may very well have ridden here alone before Vorhis got here. I'veknown the Major a long time. He isn't the man to protect a red-handedmurderer."

  "Aw, bah! How do you know I won't? How do you know he's a murderer?You make me sick!" declared the Major hotly. Breslin was an honest,well-meaning farmer; the Major was furious to find such a man alliedwith Foy's foes--certain sign that other decent blockheads would dolikewise. "Matt Lisner tells you Kit Foy is a murderer and you believehim implicitly: Matt Lisner tells you I'm a liar--but you stumble atthat. Why? Because you think about me--that's why! Why don't you trythat plan about Foy--thinking?"

  "But Foy's run away," stammered Breslin, disconcerted.

  "Run away, hell! He's not here, you mean. According to your preciousstory, Foy was leaving before Marr was killed--or before you say Marrwas killed. Why don't you look for him with the Bar Cross round-up?There's where he started for, you say?"

  "I wired up and had a trusty man go out there quietly at once. He'sstaying there still--quietly," said the sheriff. "Foy isn't there--andthe Bar Cross hasn't heard of the killing yet. It won't do, Major.Foy's run away."

  John Wesley Pringle, limp, slack, and rumpled in his chair, yawned,stretching his arms wide.

  "This man Foy," he ventured amiably, "if he really run away, he done awise little stunt for himself, I think. Because every little ever andanon, thin scraps of talk float in from your cookfire in the yard--andthere's a heap of it about ropes and lynching, for instance. If hehasn't run away yet, he'd better--and I'll tell him so if I see him.Stubby, red-faced, spindlin', thickset, jolly little man, ain't he?Heavy-complected, broad-shouldered, dark blond, very tall andslender, weighs about a hundred and ninety, with a pale skin and ahollow-cheeked, plump, serious face?"

  At this ill-timed and unthinkable levity Breslin stared inbewilderment; Lisner glared, gripping his fist convulsively; and Mr.Ben Creagan, an uneasy third inquisitor, breathed hard through hisnose. Anastacio Barela, the fourth and last inquisitor, maintainedunmoved the disinterested attitude he had held since the interrogationbegan. Feet crossed, he lounged in his chair, graceful, silent,smoking, listening, idly observant of wall and ceiling.

  No answer being forthcoming to his query Pringle launched another:

  "Speaking of faces, Creagan, old sport, what's happened to you andyour nose? You look like someone had spread you on the minutes." Heeyed Creagan with solicitous interest.

  Mr. Creagan's battered face betrayed emotion. Pringle's shamelessmendacity shocked him. But it was Creagan's sorry plight that he mustaffect never to have seen this insolent Pringle before. The sheriff'sface mottled with wrath. Pringle reflected swiftly: The sheriff's ragehinted strongly that he was in Creagan's confidence and hence was nostranger to last night's mishap at the hotel; their silence proclaimedtheir treacherous intent.

  On the other hand, these two, if not the others, knew very well thatPringle had left town with Foy and had probably stayed with him; thatthe Major must know all that Foy and Pringle knew. Evidently, Pringledecided, these two, at least, could expect no direct information fromtheir persistent questionings; what they hoped for was unconsciousbetrayal by some slip of the tongue. As for young Breslin, Pringlehad long since sized him up for what the Major knew him to be--agood-hearted, right-meaning simpleton. In the indifferent-seemingAnastacio, Pringle recognized an unknown quantity.

  That, for a certainty, Christopher Foy had not killed Marr, was apositive bit of knowledge which Pringle shared only with the murdererhimself and with that murderer's accomplices, if any. So much wasplain, and Pringle felt a curiosity, perhaps pardonable, as to who themurderer really was.

  Duty and inclination thus happily wedded, Pringle set himself to goadferret-eyed Creagan and the heavy-jawed sheriff into unwise speech.And inattentive Anastacio had a shrewd surmise at Pringle's design.He knew nothing of the fight at the Gadsden House, but he sensed anunexplained tension--and he knew his chief.

  "And this man, too--what about him?" said Breslin, regarding Pringlewith a puzzled face. "Granted that the Major might have a motive forshielding Foy--he may even believe Foy to be innocent--why should thisstranger put himself in danger for Foy?"

  "Here, now--none of that!" said Pringle with some asperity. "I maybe a stranger to you, but I'm an old friend of the Major's. I'm hisguest, eating his grub and drinking his baccy; if he sees fit to tellany lies I back him up, of course. Haven't you got any principle atall? What do you think I am?"

  "I know what you are," said the sheriff. "You're a damned liar!"

  "An amateur only," said Pringle modestly. "I never take money for it."He put by a wisp of his frosted hair, the better to scrutinize, withinsulting slowness, the sheriff's savage face. "Your ears are verylarge!" he murmured at last. "And red!"

  The sheriff leaped up.

  "You insolent cur-dog!" he roared.

  "To stand and be still to the Birken'ead drill is a dam' tough bulletto chew,'" quoted Pringle evenly. "But he done it--old Pringle--JohnWesley Pringle--liar and cur-dog too! We'll discuss the cur-dog later.Now, about the liar. You're mighty certain, seems to me. Why? How doyou know I'm lying? For I am lying--I'll not deceive you. I'm lying;you know I'm lying; I know that you know I'm lying: and you apprehendclearly that I am aware that you are cognizant of the fact that I amfully assured that you know I am lying. Just like that! What a verypeculiar set of happenstances! I am a nervous woman and this makes myhead go round!"

  "The worst day's work you ever did for yourself," said the angrysheriff, "was when you butted into this business."

  "Yes, yes; go on. Was this to-day or yesterday--at the hotel?"

  "Liar!" roared Lisner. "You never were at the Gadsden House."

  "Who said I was?"

  The words cracked like a whiplash. Simultaneously Pringle's tiltedchair came down to its four legs and Pringle sat poised, his weight onthe balls of his feet, ready for a spring. The sheriff paused midwayof a step;
his mottled face grew ashen. A gurgle very like a smotheredchuckle came from Anastacio. Creagan flung himself into the breach.

  "Aw, Matt, let's have the girl in here. We can't get nothing fromthese stiff-necked idiots."

  "Might as well," agreed Lisner in a tone that tried to be contemptuousbut trembled. "We're wasting time here."

  "Lisner," said the Major in his gentlest tone, "be well advised andleave my daughter be."

  "And if I don't?" sneered Lisner. He had no real desire to questionStella, but welcomed the change of venue as a diversion from his lateindiscretion. "If, in the performance of my duty, I put a fewcivil questions to Miss Vorhis--in the presence of her father, mindyou--then what?"

  "But you won't!" said the Major softly.

  "Do you know, Sheriff, I think the Major has the right idea?" saidPringle. "We won't bother the young lady."

  "Who's going to stop me?"

  Anastacio, in his turn, brought his chair to the floor, at the sametime unclasping his hands from behind his head.

  "I'll do that little thing, Sheriff," he announced mildly. "MissVorhis has already told us that she has not seen Foy since yesterdaynoon. That is quite sufficient."

  Silence.

  "This makes me fidgety. Somebody say something, quick--anything!"begged Pringle. "All right, then; I will. Let's go back--we've droppeda stitch. That goes about me being a liar and a damned one, Sheriff;but I'm hurt to have you think I'm a cur-dog. You're the sheriff,doin' your duty, as you so aptly observed. And you've done took my gunaway. But if bein' a cur-dog should happen to vex me--honest, Sheriff,I'm that sensitive that I'll tell you now--not hissing or gritting orgnashing my teeth--just telling you--the first time I meet you in astrictly private and unofficial way I'm goin' to remold you closer tomy heart's desire!"

  "You brazen hussy! You know you lied!"

  "You're still harpin' on that, Sheriff? That doesn't make it anyeasier to be a cur-dog. How did you know I lied? You say so,mighty positive--but what are your reasons? Why don't you tell yourassociates? There is an honest man in this room. I am not sure thereare not two--"

  Anastacio's eyes again removed themselves from the ceiling.

  "If you mean me--and somehow I am quite clear as to that--"

  "I mean Mr. Breslin."

  "Oh, him--of course!" said Anastacio in a shocked voice. "Breslin, byall means, for the one you were sure of. But the second man, theone you had hopes of--who should that be but me? I thank you. I amtouched. I am myself indifferent honest, as Shakespere puts it."

  The sheriff licked his dry lips.

  "If you think I am going to stay here to be insulted--"

  "You are!" taunted John Wesley Pringle. "You'll stay right here. What?Leave me here to tell what I have to say to an honest man and a half?Impossible! You'll not let me out of your sight."

  "My amateur Ananias," interrupted Anastacio dispassionately, "you are,unintentionally, perhaps, doing me half of a grave injustice. In thisparticular instance--for this day and date only--I am as pure as anew-mown hay. To prevent all misapprehension let me say now that Inever thought Foy killed Dick Marr."

  "In heaven's name, why?" demanded Breslin.

  "My honest but thick-skulled friend, let me put in my oar," imploredthe Major. "Let me show you that Matt Lisner never thought Foy wasguilty. Foy said last night, before the killing, that he was coming uphere, didn't he?"

  "Hey, Major--hold up!" cried Pringle. But Vorhis was not to bestopped.

  "Don't you see, you doddering imbecile? If Foy had really killedDick Marr he might have gone to any other place in the world--but hewouldn't have come here."

  "Aha! So Foy did come here, hey?" croaked the sheriff, triumphantin his turn. "Thanks, Major, for the information, though I was surebefore, humanly speaking, that he came this way."

  "Which is another way of saying that you don't think Foy did thekilling--that you don't even suspect him of it," said Anastacio. asthe Major subsided, crestfallen. "Matt Lisner, I know that you hateFoy. I know that you welcome this chance to get rid of him. Make nomistake, Breslin. I was not wanted here. I wasn't asked and none of mypeople were brought along. I tagged along, though--to wait. It's oneof the best little things I do--waiting. And I came to protect Foy,not to capture him. I came to keep right at his side, in case hesurrendered without a fight--for fear he might be killed ... escaping... on the way back. It's a way that we have in Las Uvas!"

  Lisner threw a look of hate at his deputy.

  "You don't mean to tell me there's any danger of anything like that?"said Breslin, staggered and aghast.

  "Every danger. That's an old gag--the _ley fuga_."

  "You lie!" bawled Creagan. His six-shooter covered Anastacio.

  "That'll keep. Put up your gun, Bennie," said Anastacio with greatcomposure. "Supper's most ready. Besides, the Barelas won't like itif you shoot me this way. There's a lot of the Barelas, Ben. I'll tellyou what I'll do, though--I'll slip the idea to my crowd, and any timeyou want to kill me on an even break, no Barela or Ascarate will takeit up. Put it right in your little holster--put it up, I say! That'sright. You see, Breslin? Don't let Foy out of your sight if he shouldbe taken."

  "But he'll never let himself be taken alive," said Vorhis. "Evenif anyone wants to take him--alive. Pass the word to your friends,Breslin, unless you want them to take part in a deliberate,foreplanned murder."

  "Damn you, what do you mean?" shouted the sheriff.

  "By God, sir, I mean just what I say!"

  "Why, girls!" said Pringle. "You shock me! This is most unladylike.This is scandalous talk. Be nice! Please--pretty please! See, herecomes some more pussy-foot posse--three, six, eleven hungry men. Havethey got Foy? No; they have not got Foy. Is he up? He is up. Lookwho's here too! Good old Applegate and Brother Espalin. I wonder nowif they're goin' to give me the cut direct, like Creagan did? Younotice, Mr. Breslin."

  The horsemen rode into the corral.

  "No; don't go, Sheriff," said Anastacio.

  "I'm anxious to see if those two will recognize Ananias the Amateur.They'll be here directly. You, either, Creagan. Else I'll shoot youboth in the back, accidentally, cleaning my gun."

  From without was the sound of spurred feet in haste; three menappeared at the open door.

  "Why, if it ain't George! Good old George!" cried Pringle, risingwith outstretched arms. "And my dear friend Espalin! What a charmingreunion!"

  Applegate's eyes threw a startled question at his chief and atCreagan; Espalin slipped swiftly back through the door.

  "I don't know you, sir," said Applegate.

  "George! You're never going to disown me! Joe's gone, too. Nobodyloves me!"

  The third man, a grizzled and bristly old warrior with a limp, brokein with a roar.

  "What in hell's going on here?" he stormed.

  "You are, for one thing, if you don't moderate your voice," saidAnastacio. "Nueces, you bellow like the bulls of Bashan. Mr.Applegate, meet Mr. Pringle."

  "What does he mean, then, by such monkeyshines?" demanded theother--old Nueces River, chief of police, ex-ranger, and, for thisoccasion, deputy sheriff. "I got no time for foolishness. And youcan't run no whizzer on me, Barela. Don't you try it!"

  "Oh, they're just joking, Nueces," said the Major. "Tell us how aboutit. Here, I'll light the lamp; it's getting dark. Find any sign ofFoy?"

  Nueces leveled a belligerent finger at the Major.

  "You've been joking, too! I've heard about you. Lisner, I'm ashamed ofyou! Let Vorhis pull the wool over your eyes, while you sit here andjaw all afternoon, doing nothing!"

  "Why, what did you find out?"

  "A-plenty. Them stiffs you sent out found Foy's horse, to begin with."

  "Sure it was Foy's horse?" queried Lisner eagerly.

  "Sure! I know the horse--that big calico horse of his."

  "Why didn't you follow him up?"

  "Follow hell! Oh, some of the silly fools are milling round outthere--going over to the San Andres to-night to take a big huntmanana. Not me
. That horse was a blind. They pottered round tryin' tofind some trace of Foy--blind fools!--till I met up with 'em. I'd donegathered in that mizzable red-headed Joe Cowan on a give-out horse,claim-in' he'd been chousin' after broom-tails. He'd planted Foy'shorse, I reckon. But it can't be proved, so I let him go. He'll haveto walk in; that's one good thing."

  "But Foy--where do you figure Foy's gone?"

  "Maybe he simply was not," suggested Pringle, "like Enoch when he wastranslated into all European languages, including the Scandinavian."

  "Pringle, if you say another word I'll have you gagged!" said theexasperated sheriff. "Don't you reckon, Nueces, that Cowan brought Foya barefooted horse? He can't have gone on afoot or you'd have seen histracks."

  "Sheriff, you certainly are an easy mark!" returned Nueces, in greatdisgust. "Foy didn't go on afoot or horseback, because he was neverthere. I've told you twice: Cowan left that calico horse on purposefor us to find. Vorhis is Foy's friend. Can't you see, if Foy hadtried to get away by hard riding he would have had a fresh horse, notthe one he rode from Las Uvas, and you wouldn't have found a penful offresh horses to chase him with? Not in a thousand years! That was tomake it nice and easy for you to ride on--a six-year-old kid could seethrough it! It's a wonder you didn't all fall for it and chase away.No, sir! Foy either stopped down on the river and sent his horse on tofool us--or, more likely, he's up in the Buttes. Did you look there?"

  "I sent the boys round to out sign. I didn't feel justified in huntingout the rough places till we had more men. Too much cover for him."

  "And none for you, I s'pose? Mamma! but you're a fine sheriff! Looknow: After we started back here we sighted a dust comin' 'way upnorth. We went over, and 'twas Hargis, the Major's buckaroo, throwin'in a bunch from the round-up. He didn't know nothin' and was not rightsure of that--till I mentioned your reward. Soon as ever I mentionedtwenty-five hundred, he loosened up right smart."

  "Well? Did he know where Foy was?"

  "No; but he knew of the place where I judge Foy is, this very yet.Gosh!" said Nueces River in deep disgust, "it beats hell what men willdo for a little dirty money! Seems there's a cave near the top of theleast of them two buttes--the roughest one--a cave with two mouths,one right on the big top. Nobody much knows where it is, only the V Houtfit."

  Pringle had edged across the room. He now plucked at Bell Applegate'ssleeve.

  "Say, is that right about that reward--twenty-five hundred?" hewhispered. His eyes glistened.

  "Forty-five," said Bell behind his hand. "The Masons, they put up athousand, and Dick's old uncle--that would have let Dick starve orwork--he tacked on a thousand more. Dead or alive!" He looked downat Pringle's face, at Pringle's working fingers, opening and shuttingavariciously; he sneered. "Don't you wish you may get it? S-sh! Hearwhat the old man's saying."

  During the whispered colloquy the old ranger had kept on:

  "There's where he is, a twenty-to-one shot! He'll lay quiet, likely,thinkin' we'll miss him. Brush growin' over both the cave mouths,Hargis says, so you might pass right by if you didn't know where tolook. These short nights he couldn't never get clear on foot. Thirtymile to the next water--we'd find his tracks and catch him. But hemight make a break to get away, at that. Never can tell about a he-manlike that. We can't take no chances. We'll pick a bite of supper andthen we surround that hill, quiet as mice, and close up on him. Hecan't see us to shoot if we're fool enough to make any noise. Comedaylight, we'll have him cornered, every man behind a bowlder. If heshows up he's our meat; if he don't we'll starve him out."

  "And suppose he isn't there?" said Creagan. "What would we look like,watching an empty cave two or three days?"

  "What do we look like now? Give you three guesses," retorted Nueces."And how'd we look rushin' that empty cave if it didn't happen to beempty? Excuse me! I'd druther get three grand heehaws and a tigerfor bein' ridiculous than to have folks tiptoe by a-whisperin': 'Hownatural he looks!' I been a pretty tough old bird in my day--but goin'up a tunnel after Kitty Foy ain't my idea of foresight."

  "Some man--some good man, too--will have to stay here and standguard on the Major and this fresh guy, Pringle," said the sheriffthoughtfully. "He'll get his slice of the money, of course."

  "You'll find a many glad to take that end of the job; for," saidNueces River, "it is in my wise old noddle some of us are going to befesterin' in Abraham's bosom before we earn that reward money. LeaveApplegate--he's in bad shape for climbing anyway; bruise on his bellybig as a washpan."

  "Bronc' bucked me over on the saddle horn," explained Applegate."Sure, I'll stay. And the Pringle person will be right here when youget back, too."

  "Let the Major take some supper in to Miss Vorhis," suggested Breslin."I'll keep an eye on him. He can eat with her and cheer her up alittle. This is hard lines for a girl."

  Lisner shrugged his shoulders.

  "We have to keep her here till Foy's caught. She might bring a sightof trouble down on us."

  "Say, what's the matter with me going out and eating a few?" askedPringle.

  "You stay here! You talk too much with your mouth," replied thesheriff. "I'll send in a snack for you and Bell. Come on, boys."

  They filed out to the cook's fire in the walled courtyard.

  "George, dear," said Pringle when the two were left alone, "is thatright about the reward? 'Cause I sure want to get in on it."

  "Damn likely. You knew where Foy was. You know where he is now. Whydidn't you tell us, if you wanted in on the reward?"

  "Why, George, I didn't know there was any reward. Besides, him and mesplit up as soon as we got clear of town."

  "You're a damn liar!"

  "That's what the sheriff said. Somebody must 'a' give me away,"complained John Wesley. He rolled a cigarette and walked to the table."All the same, you're making a mistake. You hadn't ought to roil me.Just for that, soon as they're all off on their man hunt, I'm goin' tostudy up some scheme to get away."

  "I got a picture of you gettin' away!"

  "George," said John Wesley, "you see that front door? Well, that'swhat we call in theatrical circles a practical door. Along towardmorning I'm going out through that practical door. You'll see!"

  He raised the lamp, held the cigarette over the chimney top and puffedtill he got a light; so doing he smoked the chimney. To inspect thedamage he raised the lamp higher. Swifter than thought he hurled it athis warder's head. The blazing lamp struck Applegate between the eyes.Pringle's fist flashed up and smote him grievously under the jaw;he fell crashing; the half-drawn gun clattered from his slackenedfingers. Pringle caught it up and plunged into the dark through thepractical door.

  He ran down the adobe wall of the water pen; a bullet whizzed by; heturned the corner; he whisked over the wall, back into the water pen.Shouts, curses, the sound of rushing feet without the wall. Pringlecrouched in the deep shadow of the wall, groped his way to the longrow of watering troughs, and wormed himself under the upper trough,where the creaking windmill and the splashing of water from the supplypipe would drown out the sound of his labored breath.

  Horsemen boiled from the yard gate with uproar and hullabaloo; Pringleheard their shouts; he saw the glare of soap weeds, fired to helptheir search.

  The lights died away; the shouts grew fainter: they swelled again asthe searchers straggled back, vociferous. Pringle caught scraps oftalk as they watered their horses.

  "Clean getaway!"

  "One bad actor, that _hombre_!"

  "Regular Go-Getter!"

  "Batting average about thirteen hundred, I should figger."

  "Life-size he-man! Where do you suppose----"

  "Saw a lad make just such another break once in Van Zandt County----"

  "Say! Who're you crowdin'?"

  "Hi, fellers! Bill's giving some more history of the state of VanZandt!"

  "Applegate's pretty bad hurt."

  "----in a gopher hole and near broke my fool neck."

  "Where'd this old geezer come from, anyway? Never heard of himbefore!
"

  "'Tain't fair, just when we was all crowdin' up for supper! He mighthave waited."

  "This will be merry hell and repeat if he hooks up with Foy," saidCreagan's voice, adding a vivid description of Pringle.

  Old Nueces answered, raising his voice:

  "He's afoot. We got to beat him to it. Let's ride!"

  "That's right," said the sheriff. "But we'll grab something toeat first. Saddle up, Hargis, and lead us to your little old cave.Robbins, while we snatch a bite you bunch what canteens we've got andfill 'em up. Then you watch the old man and that girl, and let Breslincome with us. You can eat after we've gone."

  "Don't let the girl heave a pillow at you, Robbins!" warned a voice.

  "Better not stop to eat," urged Nueces.

  "We can lope up and get to the foot of Thumb Butte before Pringle getshalfway--if he's going there at all. Most likely he's had a hand inthe Marr killing and is just running away to save his own preciousneck," said the sheriff. "We'll scatter out around the hill when weget to the roughs, and go up afoot till every man can see or hearhis neighbor, so Pringle can't get through. Then we'll wait tilldaylight."

  "That may suit you," retorted Nueces. "Me, I don't intend for anyman that will buck a gun with a lamp to throw in with Kit Foy while Istuff my paunch. That sort is just the build to do a mile in nothingflat--and it's only three miles to the hill. I'm goin' now, andI'm goin' hellity-larrup! Come on, anybody with more brains thanbelly--I'm off to light a line of soap weeds on that hill so this Mr.Pringle-With-the-Punch don't walk himself by. If he wants up he'llhave to hoof it around the other side of the hill. We won't makeany light on the north side. That Bar Cross outfit is too damninquisitive. The night herders would see it; they'd smell trouble;and like as not the whole bilin' of 'em would come pryin' down hereby daylight. Guess they haven't heard about Foy or they'd be here now.They're strong for Foy. Come on, you waddies!"

  Mr. Pringle-With-the-Punch, squeezed, cramped, and muddy under thetrough, heard this supperless plan with displeasure; his hope had beenotherwise. He heard the sound of hurried mounting; from the thunderof galloping hoofs it would seem that a goodly number of the posse hadcome up to the specifications laid down by the old ranger.

  The others clanked away, leaving their horses standing. The manRobbins grumbled from saddle to saddle and gathered canteens. As hefilled them from the supply pipe directly above Mr. Pringle's head, heset them on the ground within easy reach of Mr. Pringle's hand.Acting on this hint Mr. Pringle's hand withdrew a canteen, quiteunostentatiously. An unnecessary precaution, as it turned out; Mr.Robbins, having filled that batch, went to the horses farther down thetroughs to look for more canteens. So Pringle wriggled out with hiscanteen, selected a horse, and rode quietly through the open gate.

  "Going already?" called Robbins as he passed.

  Secure under cover of darkness, Pringle answered in the voice of onewho, riding, eats:

  "Yes, indeedy; I ain't no hawg. Wasn't much hungry nohow!"