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  Corliss was in bed when Shoop swaggered in. The foreman did a few steps of a jig, flung his hat in the corner, and proceeded to undress.

  "Did you see Kennedy?" yawned Corliss.

  "Bet your whiskers I did! Got the descriptions in my pocket. You owe me the price of seven drinks, Jack, to say nothin' of what I took myself. Caught him at 'The Last Chance' and let on I was the pore lonely cowboy with a sufferin' thirst. Filled him up with 'Look-out-I'm-Comin'' and landed him at his shack, where he dug up them ole water-hole descriptions, me helpin' promiscus. He kind o' bucked when I ast him for them papers. Said he only had one copy that he was holdin' for another party. And I didn't have to strain my guesser any, to guess who. I told him to saw off and get busy quick or I'd have him pinched for playin' favorites. Guess he seen I meant business, for he come acrost. She toots for Antelope six-forty tomorrow mornin'. This is where I make the grand play as a homesteader, seein' pore Sundown's eatin' on the county. Kind o' had a hunch that way."

  "We'll have to nail it quick. If you file you'll have to quit on the Concho."

  "Well, then, I quit. Sinker is right in line for my bunk. Me for the big hammer and the little ole sign what says: 'Private property! Keep off! All trespassers will be executed!' And underneath, kind o' sassy-like, 'Bud Shoop, proprietor.'"

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE ESCAPE

  About midnight Corliss and his foreman were awakened by a cry of "Fire!" They scrambled from bed and pawed around in the dark for their clothes.

  "Spontinuous conibustication," said Shoop, with a yawn. "A Jew clothin'-store and a insurance-policy. Wonder who's ablaze?"

  "I can see from here," said Corliss at the window. "Keep on dressing, Bud, it's the sheriff's office!"

  "Sundown!" Shoop exclaimed, dancing about inelegantly with one foot halfway down his pants-leg.

  They tramped down the stairs and ran across to the blazing building. A group of half-dressed citizens were passing buckets and dashing their final and ineffectual contents against the spouting flames.

  "He's sure done on both sides if he's in there," remarked Shoop. He ran around to the back of the jail and called loudly on Sundown. Jumping, he caught the high wooden bars of the window and peered into the rear room. A rivulet of flame crept along the door that led from the jail to the office. The room seemed to be empty. Shoop dropped to the ground and strolled around to the front. "Tryin' to save the buildin' or the prisoner?" he asked of a sweating bucket-passer.

  The man paused for a second, slopping water on his boots and gazing about excitedly. "Hey, boys!" he shouted. "Get an axe and chop open the back! The long gent is roastin' to death in there!"

  "And I reckon that'll keep 'em busy while Sun fans it," soliloquized Shoop. "Hello, Jack!" And he beckoned to Corliss. "He ain't in there," he whispered, "But how he got out, gets me!"

  "We might as well go back to bed," said Corliss. "They'll get him, anyway. There's one of Jim's deputies on a cayuse now."

  "Where do you reckon he'll head for?"

  "Don't know, Bud. If he heads for the water-hole, they'll get him in no time."

  "Think he set her on fire?"

  "Maybe he dropped a cigarette. I don't think he'd risk it, on purpose."

  Shoop glanced at his watch, tilting it toward the light of the flames. "It's just one. Hello! There comes the agent. Reckon he thought the station was afire."

  "Guess not. He's lighting up. Must be a special going to stop."

  "He's sure set the red. Say, I'm goin' over to see. Wait a minute."

  Shoop followed the agent into the station. Presently the foreman reappeared and beckoned to Corliss. "Listen, Jack! Reddy says he's got some runnin' orders for the Flyer and she's got to stop to get 'em. That means we can eat breakfast in Usher, 'stead of here. No tellin' who'll be on the six-forty headed for the same place, tomorrow mornin'."

  Corliss pondered. His plan of homesteading the water-hole ranch had been upset by the arrest of Sundown. Still, that was no reason for giving up the plan. From Shoop's talk with Kennedy, the lawyer, it was evident that Loring had his eye on the deserted ranch.

  Far down the track he saw a glimmering dot of fire and heard the faint muffled whistle of the Flyer. "All right, Bud. I'll get the tickets. Get our coats. We can just make it."

  When they stepped from the Flyer at Usher, the faint light of dawn was edging the eastern hills. A baggage-truck rumbled past and they heard some one shout, "Get out o' that!" In the dim light they saw a figure crawl from beneath the baggage-car and dash across the station platform to be swallowed up in the shadowy gloom of a side street.

  "I only had seven drinks," said Shoop, gazing after the disappearing figure. "But if Sundown ain't a pair of twins, that was him."

  "Hold on, Bud!" And Corliss laid his hand on Shoop's arm. "Don't take after him. That's the way to stampede him. We go easy till it's light. He'll see us."

  They sauntered up the street and stopped opposite an "all-night" eating-house.

  "We won't advertise the Concho, this trip," said Corliss, as they entered.

  Shoop, with his legs curled around the counter stool, sipped his coffee and soliloquized. "Wise old head! Never was a hotel built that was too good for Jack when he's travelin'. And he don't do his thinkin' with his feet, either."

  The waiter, who had retired to the semi-seclusion of the kitchen, dozed in a chair tilted back against the wall. He was awakened by a voice at the rear door. Shoop straightened up and grinned at Corliss. The waiter vocalized his attitude with the brief assertion that there was "nothin' doin'."

  "It's him!" said Shoop.

  "I got the price," came from the unseen.

  "Then you beat it around to the front," suggested the waiter.

  Shoop called for another cup of coffee. As the waiter brought it, Sundown, hatless, begrimed, and showing the effects of an unupholstered journey, appeared in the doorway. Shoop turned and stood up.

  "Well, if it ain't me old pal Buddy!" exclaimed Sundown. "What you doin' in this here burg?"

  "Why, hello, Hawkins! Where'd you fall from? How's things over to Homer?"

  Sundown took the hint and fabricated a heart-rending tale of an all-night ride on "a cayuse that had been tryin' to get rid of him ever since he started and had finally piled him as the Flyer tooted for Usher."

  "You do look kind o' shook-up. Better eat."

  "I sure got room," said Sundown. "Fetch me a basket of doughnuts and a pail of coffee. That there Fly—cayuse sure left me, but he didn't take me appetite."

  After the third cup of coffee and the seventh doughnut, Sundown asserted that he felt better. They sauntered out to the street.

  "How in blazes did you get loose?" queried Shoop, surveying the unkempt adventurer with frank amazement.

  "Blazes is correct. I clumb out of the window."

  "Set her on fire?"

  "Not with mellishus extent, as the judge says. Mebby it was a cigarette. I dunno. First thing I know I was dreamin' I smelt smoke and the dream sure come true. If them bars had been a leetle closter together, I reckon I would be tunin' a harp, right now."

  "How did you happen to jump our train—and get off here?" asked Corliss.

  "It was sure lucky," said Sundown, grinning. "I run 'round back of the station and snook up and crawled under the platform in front. I could see everybody hoppin' 'round and I figured I was safer on the job, expectin' they'd be lookin' for me to beat it out of town. Then you fellas come up and stood talkin' right over me head. Bud he says somethin' about eatin' breakfast in Usher, and bein' hungry and likin' good comp'ny, I waits till the train pulls up and crawls under the baggage. And here I be."

  "We'll have to get you a hat and a coat. We'll stop at the next barber-shop. You wash up and get shaved. We'll wait. Then we'll head for the court-house."

  "Me ranch?" And Sundown beamed through his grime. "Makes me feel like writin' a pome! Now, mebby—"

  "Haven't time, now. Got to scare up two more witnesses to go on your paper. There
's a place, just opening up."

  They crossed the street. Next to the barbershop was a saloon.

  Sundown eyed the sign pensively. "I ain't a drinkin' man—regular," he said, "but there are times…"

  "There are times," echoed Corliss, and the three filed between the swing-doors and disappeared.

  An hour later three men, evidently cow-men from their gait and bearing, passed along the main street of Usher and entered the court-house, where they were met by two citizens. The five men were admitted to the inner sanctum of the hall of justice, from which they presently emerged, laughing and joking. The tallest of them seemed to be receiving the humorous congratulations of his companions. He shook hands all around and remarked half-apologetically: "I ain't a drinkin' man, reg'lar… but there are times…"

  The five men drifted easily toward the swing-doors. Presently they emerged. Shoop nudged his employer. David Loring and his daughter had just crossed the street. The old sheep-man glanced at the group in front of the saloon and blinked hard. Of the West, he read at a glance the situation. Sundown, Corliss, and Shoop raised their hats as Eleanor Loring bowed.

  "Beat him by a neck!" said Shoop. "Guess we better fan it, eh, Jack?"

  "There's no hurry," said Corliss easily. Nevertheless, he realized that Sundown's presence in Usher was quite apt to be followed by a wire from the sheriff of Antelope which would complicate matters, to say the least. He shook hands with the two townsmen and assured them that the hospitality of the Concho was theirs when they chose to honor it. Then he turned to Bud Shoop. "Get the fastest saddle-horse in town and ride out to the South road and wait for us. I'm going to send Sundown over to Murphy's. Pat knows me pretty well. From there he can take the Apache road to the Concho. We can outfit him and get him settled at the water-hole ranch before any one finds out where he is."

  "But Jim'll get him again," said Shoop.

  "I expect him to. That'll be all right."

  "Well, you got me. Thought I knowed somethin' about your style, but I don't even know your name."

  "Let's move on. You go ahead and get the cayuse. I want to talk to Sundown."

  Then Corliss explained his plan. He told Sundown to keep the water-hole fenced and so keep the sheep-men from using it. This would virtually control several thousand acres of range around the water-hole ranch. He told Sundown that he expected him to homestead the ranch for himself—do the necessary work to secure a title, and then at his option either continue as a rancher or sell the holding to the Concho. "I'll start you with some stock—a few head, and a horse or two. All you have to do is to 'tend to business and forget that I have ever spoken to you about homesteading the place. You'll have to play it alone after you get started."

  "Suits me, boss. I ain't what you'd call a farmer, but me and Chance can scratch around and act like we was. But the smooth gent as pinched me—ain't he goin' to come again?"

  "Sure as you're wearing spurs! But you just take it easy and you'll come out all right. Loring put Jim Banks after you. Jim is all right and he's business. Loring wants the water-hole ranch. So do I. Now, if Loring tells the sheriff he saw you in Usher, and later at the water-hole, Jim will begin to think that Loring is keeping pretty close trail on you. When Jim finds out you've filed on the water-hole,—and he already knows that Loring wants it,—he'll begin to figure that Loring had you jailed to keep you out of his way. And you can take it from me, Jim Banks is the squarest man in Apache County. He'll give you a chance to make good. If we can keep you out of sight till he hears from over the line, I think you'll be safe after that. If we can't, why, you still have your title to the water-hole ranch and that holds it against trespassers."

  "Well, you're sure some shark on the long think! Say, I been scared stiff so long I'm just commencin' to feel me legs again. The sun is shinin' and the birds are sawin' wood. I get you, boss! The old guy that owns the wool had me pinched. Well, I ain't got nothin' ag'in' him, but that don't say I ain't workin' for you. Say, if he comes botherin' around me farm, do I shoot?"

  "No. You just keep right on. Pay no attention to him."

  "Just sick Chance on him, eh?"

  "He'd get Chance. I'm going to run some cattle over that way soon. Then you'll have company. You needn't be scared."

  "Cattle is some comp'ny at that. Say, have I got to ride that there bronc Bud jest went down the street on?"

  "As soon as we get out of town."

  "Which wouldn't be long if we had hosses like him, eh?"

  "I'll give you a note to Murphy. He'll send your horse back to Usher and let you take a fresh horse when you start for the Concho. Take it easy, and don't talk."

  "All right, boss. But I was thinkin'—"

  "What?"

  "Well, it's men like me and you that puts things through. It takes a man with sand to go around this country gettin' pinched and thrun and burnt up and bein' arrested every time he goes to spit. Folks'll be sayin' that there Sundown gent is a brave man—me! Never shot nobody and dependin' on his nerve, every time. They's nothin' like havin' a bad repetation."

  "Nothing like it," assented Corliss, smiling. "Well, here's your road. Keep straight on till you cross the river. Then take the right fork and stick to it, and you'll ride right into Murphy's. He'll fix you up, all right."

  "Did you think in this note to tell him to give me a hoss that only travels one way to onct?" queried Sundown.

  Corliss laughed. "Yes, I told him. Don't forget you're a citizen and a homesteader. We're depending on you."

  "You bet! And I'll be there with the bells!"

  Shoop and Corliss watched Sundown top a distant rise and disappear in a cloud of dust. Then they walked back to the station. As they waited for the local, Shoop rolled a cigarette. "Jest statin' it mild and gentle," he said, yawning, "the last couple of weeks has been kind of a busy day. Guess the fun's all over. Sundown's got a flyin' start; Loring's played his ace and lost, and you and me is plumb sober. If I'd knowed it was goin' to be as quiet as this, I'd 'a' brought my knittin' along."

  "There are times…" said Corliss.

  "And we got just five minutes," said Shoop. "Come on."

  CHAPTER XX

  THE WALKING MAN

  Sundown's sense of the dramatic, his love for posing, with his linguistic ability to adopt the vernacular of the moment so impressed the temperamental Murphy that he disregarded a portion of his friend Corliss's note, and the morning following his lean guest's arrival at the ranch the jovial Irishman himself saddled and bridled the swiftest and most vicious horse in the corral; a glass-eyed pinto, bronc from the end of his switching tail to his pink-mottled muzzle. He was a horse with a record which he did not allow to become obsolete, although he had plenty of competition to contend with in the string of broncs that Murphy's riders variously bestrode. Moreover, the pinto, like dynamite, "went off" at the most unexpected intervals, as did many of his riders. Sundown, bidding farewell to his host, mounted and swung out of the yard at a lope. The pinto had ideas of his own. Should he buck in the yard, he would immediately be roped and turned into the corral again. Out on the mesas it would be different—and it was.

  He paid no attention to a tumble-weed gyrating across the Apache road. Neither did he seem disturbed when a rattler burred in the bunch-grass. Even the startled leap of a rabbit that shot athwart his immediate course was greeted with nothing more than a snort and a toss of his swinging head. Such things were excuses for bad behavior, but he was of that type which furnishes its own excuse. He would lull his rider to a false security, and then…

  The pinto loped over level and rise tirelessly. Sundown stood in his stirrups and gazed ahead. The wide mesas glowing in the sun, the sense of illimitable freedom, the keen, odorless air wrought him to a pitch of inspiration. He would, just over the next rise, draw rein and woo his muse. But the next rise and the next swept beneath the pinto's rhythmic hoofs. The poetry of motion swayed his soul. He was enjoying himself. At last, he reflected, he had mastered the art of sitting a horse. He had already
mastered the art of mounting and of descending under various conditions and at seemingly impossible angles. As Hi Wingle had once remarked—Sundown was the most durable rider on the range. His length of limb had no apparent relation to his shortcomings as a vaquero.

  Curiosity, as well as pride, may precede a fall. Sundown eventually reined up and breathed the pinto, which paced with lowered head as though dejected and altogether weary—which was merely a pose, if an object in motion can be said to pose. His rider, relaxing, slouched in the saddle and dreamed of a peaceful and domestic future as owner of a small herd of cattle, a few fenced acres of alfalfa and vegetables, a saddle-horse something like the pinto which he bestrode, with Chance as companion and audience—and perhaps a low-voiced señora to welcome him at night when he rode in with spur-chains jingling and the silver conchas on his chaps gleaming like stars in the setting sun. "But me chaps did their last gleam in that there fire," he reflected sadly. "But I got me big spurs yet." Which after-thought served in a measure to mitigate his melancholy. Like a true knight, he had slept spurred and belted for the chance encounter while held in durance vile at Antelope. "But me ranch!" he exclaimed. "Me! And mebby a tame cow and chickens and things,—eh, Chance!" But Chance, he immediately realized, was not with him. He would have a windmill and shade-trees and a border of roses along the roadway to the house—like the Loring rancho. But the señorita to be wooed and won—that was a different matter. "'T ain't no woman's country nohow—this here Arizona. She's fine! But she's a man's country every time! Only sech as me and Jack Corliss and Bud and them kind is fit to take the risks of makin' good in this here State. But we're makin' good, you calico-hoss! Listen:—